After spending two weeks (one) (two) in Death Valley, and a week in the Mojave Preserve before that, I figured it was time to get out of the Mojave Desert for a bit. My first inclination was to head east towards Cedar Mesa to continue my search for the Juniper Tree ruin. This, I figured, would be a relatively straightforward affair, since I'm confident that I've narrowed down its location, so I knew I'd need more to fill a trip.
Pouring over my usual sources of inspiration, I came upon a reference to the Shamans Gallery along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and was blown away. For those - like me - who are unfamiliar, the Shamans Gallery is one of only a handful of rock art sites that fall into a group known as the Grand Canyon Polychrome, nearly all of which are found on the Esplanade.
Shamans Gallery.
Over the next several days, I searched diligently for clues to any of the remaining sites. Alas, those who know where they are, also know how that keeping them special means keeping their locations unknown. Still, I was able to find several more places in the Arizona Strip to keep me busy over the course of a few days, so I put the Juniper Tree ruin on hold, lined up my permits for the north rim, and set out for the single-digit temperatures that would make for a few chilly days in the strip!
- - - - -
Even before stepping out of the airport in Las Vegas, I was worried about the temperatures I'd encounter as I worked my way along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Still, as I exited the terminal, a blast of cool air - in the mid-40s °F - caught me off guard, so different than the 60-70°F temps that I look forward to when heading south for the winter.
I made up my mind right there - as I was waiting for the Uber that would deliver me to the Tacoma - that I would be doing no cooking on this trip. Even if warm food would be pleasant for a moment or two, the process of assembly would chill me to the bone, and washing up afterwards would surely necessitate the removal of my frostbitten fingers. That was if I was even able to clean up after dinner, something that would entirely depend on whether the water in my jerry can was frozen solid.
And so, after stowing my belongings and grabbing my usual lunch at In-N-Out, I picked up some milk and cereal for breakfast, and several burritos from Chipotle. These, I decided, I would carry around during the day, allowing the sun - and my body heat when I was hiking - to bring them to a warm-enough-to-enjoyably-consume temperature. I'd eat half a head-sized burrito for lunch, and the other half as an early dinner. For water, I hoped that the jerry can would thaw enough over the course of each sunny day - as long as I left it in full sun - that I could fill my water bottles and stow them under my blankets before I went to bed, keeping them from freezing for the following day's adventure.
It was 2:00pm as I pointed the Tacoma east towards the Arizona Strip and the Tuweep Campground along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. With six hours of driving, there was no question as to whether I'd arrive in the dark. Rather, this fact raised two additional questions: (1) would the road be open, and (2) how unbearably cold would it be?
Showing up in the dead of winter, I had no trouble finding a camp site; the entire campground was mine alone.
I'd been worried about the road, not because of weather or muddy conditions, but because Toroweap Overlook is home to the only backcountry outpost - the Tuweep Ranger Station - along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and permits for the area make it clear that one must arrive 30-60 minutes before sunset, lest the gates be closed until morning.
Note: Camping at Tuweep Campground and hiking in the area (including visiting Toroweap Overlook) requires a permit, and a National Park pass.
Permits range in price from free (day use hiking) to inexpensive (camping) and help to maintain this amazing place so we can all enjoy it. For more information and to get permits, see Tuweep Permits.
There's no better way to get a National Park pass than to pick up an annual America the Beautiful Pass.
Luckily for me, the gates at Tuweep were open, rangers likely assuming that anyone crazy enough to make their way to this point in the dead of winter - should they take the long plunge over the edge - wouldn't be missed by many. After a quick jaunt to the dark, bottomless, edge of the canyon, I worked my way back to the campground where I quickly settled on site #3. Off the main route, it was nicely level, allowing for a quick tent deployment in the frigid night air. It was still only a few minutes after 8:00pm.
Not sure I wanted to spend quite such a long night under the covers - sunrise wasn't until 7:40am the following morning - I decided that a quick jaunt around the campground could be a good way to pass a bit of time.
All sites in Tuweep Campground are first-come, first-serve, and as I worked my way further along the road, it didn't take long for me to realize I'd made a mistake. Site #3 was nice, but wow, site #7 was fantastic! Soon, I was folding up the tent and blasting the heater as I made my way deeper into the campground!
Setup under the red sandstone and bright Milky Way.
After redeploying the tent and distributing a bit of lighting along the ledge for a few photos, I cozied down under my comforters. It was going to be a cold night, and - I assumed, with plans to head to the overlook an hour before sunrise - an even a colder morning!
Sometime while I was asleep...
Unbeknownst to me, Mike @mk5 departed the greater Los Angeles area just as I was climbing into bed. I'd sent him my location using my Garmin inReach Mini, knowing that he wanted to join me for a little more than a day, but not knowing if he'd actually be able to make it, largely due to the Southern California wildfires.
At some point along the way, he posted this to TacomaWorld:
Hey Dan, why don't you pick the destination this time... maybe just not super far away, and not too cold?
The following morning...
I still had no idea if Mike was coming when my alarm sounded, and after pulling on my freezing clothes, I climbed down the ladder to start the day at my favorite overlook of the Grand Canyon. With just under a mile between my campsite and the edge, I moved quickly to generate heat, my fingers already painful in anticipation of touching the freezing camera body and tripod when the huge gash in the ground presented itself.
The view was as wonderful as I remembered.
Looking west from Toroweap.
Looking east, it's a long way down.
I hung out for more than an hour as the sun worked its way toward - and crested - the horizon. My heart raced as I hopped from precarious place to another, warm blood and adrenalin keeping me warm as played on the edge.
Canyon walls gleamed as the sun kissed them to start the day.
My tummy grumbling, I eventually pulled myself from the edge and headed back toward camp. As with the overlook, darkness prevented my enjoyment of the landscape the previous evening. And, though the sandstone boulders that backed my camp were splendid, they were nothing compared to the Kanab Plateau that now filled my view.
There aren't many places in the world where the views extend both up and down like they do at Toroweap.
Look at that, a second truck has arrived!
I'd later discover that Mike rolled into camp just after sunrise. Whether or not he thought I was in my tent at the time, he wasted no time trying to find out - or say hello - instead pulling out his sleeping bag and sunshade to get as much shuteye as he could.
I putzed around for an hour or so, enjoying breakfast - Wheat Chex and mandarins - as the sun warmed my back, and putting away the tent as I wondered how long I should let him sleep. Ultimately though, it wasn't for me to decide; as I grabbed my Kindle to read at the picnic table, his driver side door slowly opened, and a weak mumble - that I can only assume was a greeting - emanated from within.
The view east from site #7.
A few minutes later, the mumbling turned to rustling, and a few minutes after that, a staggering and stumbling Mike wandered over to wonder at what day it was and why I'd chosen such a cold, faraway place to explore.
"Let me show you," I said, and a few minutes later we were in our trucks, crawling over small ledges and rough roads, on our way to the overlook.
No rest for the weary.
Nap time yet?
As with many deep canyons, even the parking area at Toroweap - only a few hundred feet from the edge - gives little indication of what one will experience as they reach the rim. And so it was with great joy that I watched a smile - and some trepidation - spread across Mike's face as he finally reached the precipice.
"Huh," he said, "Probably not a good idea to get to close with the amount of sleep I've had."
"Reasonably Grand." -Mike
And then, just as I'd done only a couple hours earlier, we hopped about along the edge, enjoying the sun as it warmed us and the red rock cliffs of Toroweap.
No guardrails.
"I might not make it if I fall." -Mike
Apparently, Mike was also taking photos of me. And, despite his nonchalant photo-taking style - just sort of randomly pointing his camera at things and pressing the shutter button without ever looking at the screen or viewfinder - he seems to have shown me up. Again.
"Hey over there!"
A perfect shot from the hip, and the guy only ever uses a wide-angle lens. I officially give up.
There are only so many photos you can take on a single morning at a place like this, and by the time we were done, I'd thoroughly exceeded my allotment. As we made our way back to our trucks, Mike asked what was next, hopeful that it would include at least 6 hours of napping, and an increase of approximately 30°F. Neither of those were in the cards, but - I assured him - our hike wasn't too long, and would culminate at what I hoped were some reasonably cool petroglyphs.
"Cactus petroglyphs?" he asked?
"They didn't make cacti petroglyphs, Mike," I assured him, as I pulled the door closed and fired up the ignition to get underway. As I did, I could see him talking at me through the window. I'm not sure what he was yelling as I departed, but knowing Mike, he was probably trying to argue with me about cacti rock art again, even though he'd only seen his first petroglyph three months earlier.
This part of Arizona sure does remind me of Utah.
The local riff-raff made sure we were following the rules and keeping to the trails.
Our destination - Nampaweap, which means 'Foot Canyon' in Paiute - was one that I'd known about since 2018 when I'd approached it from the opposite direction with Mike @Digiratus and Monte @Blackdawg as part of our two-week long adventure that'd become known as F U Rain. On that trip, we'd stopped for lunch at the trailhead on the Uinkaret Plateau, but knew that we didn't have time to tackle the 1.5-mile hike to the petroglyphs themselves.
Out of the Park, and into the Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument.
With significantly more sleep over the previous 48-hours than Mike, I arrived at the trailhead several minutes before he did, his reflexes dull and his eyelids continually reminding him that he wasn't as young as he used to be. Still, I reminded him, he was younger than I was, so no complaining.
We grabbed a bite to eat as we ambled down the old mining road toward the rock art, chatting about the site - an important prehistoric travel corridor from the Grand Canyon to the resources of the ponderosa pine country around Mt. Trumbull - as we wondered what we would discover.
When visiting rock art and ruin sites, be respectful.
This is most easily done by following the Leave No Trace principles; leaving the place exactly as you found it and taking with you only photographs and memories. In case that is not clear enough for some reason, here are examples of respectful behaviors:
Nampaweap petroglyphs.
Life spiral and a wall of petroglyphs.
Standalone sheep.
There were plenty of anthropomorphs in and amongst the other symbols.
"Look, it's a cactus! With spikes!" -Mike
(It's probably not a cactus, Mike. That looks like a hand...)
The proliferation of bighorn sheep on display may have led to miners eventually naming this canyon "Billy Goat Canyon."
Dappled clothes hangers.
One of the more interesting glyphs we discovered was that of what could only be described as a horny tyrannosaurus rex. Get your head out of the gutter, I mean "horned." It was unlike any I've seen before, and proof positive that these enormous chickens and the Native American Paiute shared this land as recently as 1,000 years ago. Surely, there is no other explanation. Also, the earth is flat. And did we really land on the moon? 
Nampaweap dinosaur.
After wandering along the volcanic stones for half a mile, we reached the end of the art - though I've since seen pictures of figures we never discovered - and worked our way back up the canyon to the trailhead. From there, we were headed to camp, where I assumed that Mike would quickly call it an afternoon, and sleep 15-hours straight, until morning.
Working our way through a juniper forest, toward the Tuckup trailhead.
As with the previous evening in Tuweep, we'd find ourselves along the edge of the Grand Canyon and inside the National Park boundary, so I'd forked over $8 on recreation.gov for our NL9 backcountry camping permit (same link as above). It was an amount that seemed outrageously cheap for the views that it provided.
All this for $8? Yes, all this, and more.
After setting up camp, I wandered off to snap a few photos of the sunlight racing across the Esplanade while Mike - I hope - took a nap in his passenger seat.
Last light.
As the sun disappeared below the horizon, the temperature dropped quickly. A wind - to this point, not terrible - also picked up, freezing our fingers even more quickly. Huddled around Mike's propane fire ring, we turned up the dino juice and danced around the flames as long as we could before calling it a night.
"Sorry in advance," Mike piped up, as he climbed - fully clothed - into two sleeping bags he'd laid out on his passenger seat, "but you'll probably hear me turn on the engine a few times throughout the night."
"I won't hear a thing over the flapping of my tent in this wind," I assured him, as I shoved plugs into my ears and turned my electric socks to hot.
With that, we both settled in for what we were certain would be a long, cold night. But we also fell asleep with anticipation of what the next day had in store. We were going to see - we hoped - ancient eyelashes!
The Whole Story
unrelated to this post, but someone recently sent me this and I think you would enjoy too given your love of hunting things down
https://www.otherhand.org/home-page/search-and-rescue/the-hunt-for-the-death-valley-germans/