Description: On an earlier trip west, rafting trips on the Snake River in Grand Teton and on the Flathead River along Glacier’s southern edge were definite highlights. As I planned this trip to the southwest, I wondered what experiences might provide us with a similar glimpse into the landscape, led by a knowledgeable guide taking us through parts that we otherwise might not see. Once we settled on visiting only the North Rim of the Canyon (I briefly entertained the insanity of trying to include both sides on an already overfilled itinerary), I was intrigued, enchanted, and eventually intoxicated with the idea of visiting Toroweap.
This isn’t easily accomplished. A relatively recent addition to the Park itself (1975), the Park Service "manages this area for its primitive values". Given the difficulty of accessibility, this will be certainly be easier to do here than elsewhere along the Canyon. From Kanab, Tuweep is a 75-mile drive, much of it along unpaved roads—and the further you go, the lower the effective speed limit. This seemed like a great place to have someone experienced do the driving (and someone who had the resources and knowledge to call for help if something went wrong).
In the end, I only found one company who offered to take people to Toroweap. Dave and Marilyn Devooght fell in love with southern Utah two decades ago, and eventually left their home in Northwest Missouri to live the area they loved to explore. Through their company—
Dreamland Safari Tours—they take people to Utah’s backroads, as well as Toroweap. They met us at the Kanab HIE at 9am, and 6 hours later, deposited us back at the doorstep.
In between, they gave us a fantastic experience. The five of us piled into their Suburban, where Marilyn immediately offered us a bag of glazed donuts and bottles of juice and water from a full cooler. They provided this unexpected breakfast as well as the deli sandwiches and lunch that we later enjoyed in a picnic at the rim. Dave is a quiet guy, who handled the driving, keeping the rate of progress remarkably high and the discomfort low. Marilyn was knowledgeable about the area, and made the two-hour trip to Toroweap an event in itself.
About 20 miles from the rim, you cross the park’s boundary. A little further in lies the Toroweap Ranger Station, currently staffed by a young ranger and his wife and their large, attention starved dog (who just ate up the petting and cooing from my kids). There’s a small, rough airstrip nearby, with signs that comically label it ‘Toroweap International’, a remnant of the stewardship of John Riffey who served here as ranger for decades.
That’s it for official facilities. The terrain gradually changes as you approach the canyon. The elevation is lower than the Kaibab Plateau that leads to the North Rim, and thus the cool aspens forests that line the road to Grand Canyon Lodge are absent. The surroundings transition from scrub-covered to barren, and just before the canyon, the volcanic activity that makes gives much of this section its darker colors is visible in Vulcan’s Throne. This large lava dome lies to the west of the road, but lava from this flow tumbled over into the abyss, creating the challenging 1.5mi day hike (yes, full day hike) to Lava Falls.
We passed the few, primitive and empty campsites on the way in, arriving in a small ‘parking lot’ with one other car. We never saw its occupants, and for the two hours we were there, it was just what I’d hoped: we had the Canyon to ourselves.
A picnic table sits in the shade of the largest tree, and we ate our sandwiches, drank more water, and talked. I was itching to see the rim, but my fear of heights made me think it was better to wait until I had company. After lunch, Marilyn walked us around the area, and then left us to experience the surroundings on our own.
Chances are, if you’ve seen photos of the Grand Canyon, they’re of Toroweap. The rims are uncharacteristically close here—it’s just a mile across to the Hualapai Reservation on the south side of the River, but it feels like just a few hundred yards. And the drop to the Colorado that faces you is also uncharacteristically vertical, the rim falling away 3000’ nearly straight down, dropping to the river in what looks like no horizontal distance at all. In keeping with the commitment to primitive, there are
no guardrails or improvements of any kind along the edge—this is
NOT a place for small children, or anyone who has trouble setting their own limits.
We sat at the edge and just reveled in the view. It was noon, and the Sun shone down directly on the Colorado, lighting it like a mirror. Suddenly, we made out a pair of rafts moving down the still, grey-brown water, providing a sudden sense of scale. Even here, where the Canyon loses some immensity—but none of its grandeur—it was hard to keep track of its size.
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