Grand Canyon - The North Bass Trail

William Wallace Bass - NAU Library Collection

Few explorers and entrepreneurs had as much impact and influence on early Canyon visitors as William Wallace Bass. His arrival at the rim in 1883 marked the beginning of a long and successful enterprise that included mining, farming, tourism, writing, trail and road building, and advocating for native inhabitants.

His years long association with the region resulted in many natural features being named for him, including the subject of this post, the North Bass trail.

The North Bass trail was constructed in the 1890s primarily to access various mining claims north of the river, but it was also used by Bass to conduct tours to Point Sublime.  When it was completed, together with the South Bass trail it became part of the first developed rim to rim trail at Grand Canyon.

In the beginning a crude wooden ferry was used to cross the river, but eventually William Bass built a tramway to transport visitors.  He also built a tent camp at Shinumo Creek, where he tended a garden and orchard to provide food for friends and family.

The completion of the railroad from Williams to the present day South Rim Village in 1901 and the subsequent construction of the El Tovar hotel in 1905 was the beginning of the end for the Bass empire.  Ease of access by train and more modern lodging options diverted most tourists away from the rustic charms of Bass Camp, and after William retired from his business interests at the Canyon in 1923 the North Bass trail swiftly fell into disrepair.

Over the ensuing years the North Bass gained a reputation as one of the most challenging trails as rockfalls, erosion, and fire took their toll on the landscape.  Fortunately in 2005 the National Park Service trail crews undertook the challenging task of reestablishing and repairing this historic route.  Although still remote and relatively difficult, today the North Bass is a rewarding and scenic hike for experienced Canyon visitors.

Swamp Point

Just getting to the trail head provides challenges to those who wish to enjoy it.  Like most North Rim trails, the North Bass is located far from developed areas of the National Park.  The start and end on the North Rim of the Kaibab Plateau means it is likely to be snowbound much of the winter, as back roads are not plowed.  Additionally access may not be available by vehicle until later in the spring as Forest Service and Park Service crews must clear any down trees before roads will open to public.

If that weren't enough, summer and fall bring the possibility of fire or early season snow, and those who have a trip planned are wise to check forecasts and closures just prior to departure.

I won't detail the directions to the trail here, as the Park Service includes fairly concise instructions with the issuance of a permit.  I do strongly suggest a current map of the North Kaibab Ranger District, as much of the off highway travel occurs through the forest before reaching a gate at the National Park boundary.  Also be aware that at large camping is possible anywhere on the National Forest, but once you pass the gate you may not stay the night on the rim (or in the Canyon) unless your permit specifically allows it.

Once in the Park the last 8 miles of the journey to the trail head are suitable for high clearance passenger cars, although the road is narrow in places.  The southern terminus brings you to a location on the rim prosaically named Swamp Point.  There is usually ample parking available adjacent to the trail head, although especially popular seasons may force you to leave the vehicle at one of the turnouts along the way.

The North Bass Trail

The trail into the Canyon and eventually the Colorado River is 14 miles one way, although anyone who only wishes to make the trip as far as the bed of Shinumo Creek can shave 2 miles off that total.  It primarily follows the drainages of White Creek in the upper section and then Shinumo Creek nearly all the way to the river.  As trails go it is not especially difficult, at least on the scale by which Canyon treks are measured.  Sure, it goes way down and then climbs way up, and the path is often rocky and narrow with some exposure, but hey it's the CANYON.......

North Rim trails have two aspects to them that makes them different from South Rim routes.  First, due to higher elevation and the process known as headward erosion the trails are longer and farther away from the river.  Second, because of a southern aspect they receive more sun and in some cases are more exposed.  This makes them especially challenging as summer hiking destinations.

In the beginning the North Bass descends via switchbacks for a mile or so along a flank of Muav Saddle, which connects the sky island of Powell Plateau to the rim.  Here the views extend mostly to the northwest and the prominence of Steamboat Mountain looming over the Esplanade.  In this region the Canyon makes a wide turn to the north after a mostly east/west orientation, and the bulk of the Powell Plateau is the landform around which it curves.

At Muav Saddle a trail junction offers the hiker a couple of choices:  Continue into the Canyon or climb up to Powell Plateau.  A spur also branches off and leads a short distance to what is known as the Teddy Roosevelt Cabin.

The building was constructed in 1925 as a patrol cabin for the newly created Grand Canyon National Park.  Although the 26th President of the U.S. never actually slept in it, it was built on the same spot where Roosevelt had camped in 1913 while hunting cougars in the area. 

Somewhat ironically it was Teddy's love of bagging big game animals which ultimately led to his declaring much of the North Rim as the Grand Canyon Game Reserve in 1906, which was a precursor to what would eventually become a National Park in 1919.

View from Muav Saddle - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

Continuing the descent from the saddle, the trail drops quickly through the Kaibab and Toroweap formations before making a 1/4 mile traverse below the Coconino sandstone.

A fairly reliable spring or seep is found at the base of the Coconino, and at this point the trail begins a quick 1 mile descent to the bed of White Creek.

North Bass trail descending into head of White's Creek

The trail stays in the bed of the creek for quite a while, with lots of vegetation and boulder hopping.  Although not difficult, hikers will need to pay attention to the path as it winds in and out of the drainage and through the brush.

After a couple of miles, the trail climbs out of the creekbed and begins to contour along the Supai layer just above the Redwall, crossing a series of 4 drainages.  Just beyond the last drainage the path begins the steep drop through the imposing limestone barrier.

At the base of the Redwall the path resumes in the bed of the creek.  Although water is usually present in White Creek, it is intermittent with stream flows occasionally disappearing from the surface.

 

Once again the trail follows the creek, this time confined to a narrow channel surrounded by towering walls of Redwall limestone.

White Creek below the Redwall - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

Downstream the canyon opens up again and the trail once more winds in and out of the creek bed, with lots of crossings and boulder hopping to keep hikers on their toes.

White Creek below the Redwall- Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

There is a short bypass (1/2 mile) of a pouroff in the Bright Angel shale that briefly takes the trail out of the drainage and onto the Tonto before dropping back into the streambed.  From here it continues a long and meandering negotiation of White Creek until finally climbing back out to the Tonto platform to the west.

The North Bass climbs onto the Tonto Platform - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

The Tonto is an extensive bench formation found throughout Grand Canyon composed of eroded Bright Angel shale which rests on the Tapeats sandstone layer below.  The relatively level and broad nature of the Tonto makes for excellent (but waterless and shadeless) hiking, and much of the east/west travel that is possible in the Canyon occurs here.  The North Bass also makes good use of the Tonto to bypass a pouroff in White Creek and deliver the hiker to the final descent into Shinumo Creek.

The North Bass drops into Shinumo Creek - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

Rocky switchbacks leading to Shinumo Creek - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

A series of steep and loose switchbacks mark the last mile or so of trail into Shinumo Creek.  The sight of verdant cottonwood trees and streamside vegetation is alluring, and hikers who plan to camp along the creek will be glad to see their destination after a long and tiring journey.

Shinumo Creek - Photo courtesy of Mike Wolf

At the creek the year-round stream flows vigorously towards the Colorado River.  Several campsites can be found near the trail junction with the creek bottom, but they offer little shade.  Small parties can explore further downstream to find more attractive options.

Staying at the creek is just one option.  Hikers can also continue 1.5 miles downstream to the Colorado, although it is likely you would end up sharing a beach with larger river parties.  I recommend setting up camp at the creek and making a hike to the River, which not only assures more privacy but makes for a great layover day.

The setting at Shinumo Creek is also a worthwhile destination in and of itself, and just sitting back to absorb the grandeur would be a good choice for the visitor.

Stone hoodoos - harder "cap" rocks protects the softer rock below

The trip to the River is desirable not only for the journey and the surrounding scenery, but along the way you'll see the historical remnants of William Bass's Shinumo Camp.

Artifacts at Shinumo Camp

There is one detail worth mentioning if you choose to hike to the River.  The lower end of Shinumo Creek has a large pouroff, and getting around it requires a detour which includes climbing a saddle some 700 feet in each direction.  Of course if it were easy this wouldn't be the Grand Canyon.

Even with the added effort, a hike along the creek to the River offers a chance to see beautiful scenes like this inviting plunge pool - a great place to cool off on a warm summer day.

Like many North Rim trails, you have to want to hike the North Bass.  The best times for experiencing the North Bass are also the times when access may be impossible due to weather or road conditions.  Also, because the window for the optimum hiking conditions are so narrow and the North Bass use area is one unit, you may have lots of competition for a backcountry permit. 

But if chance is on your side and the weather holds, like some of the earliest visitors to the region you may be fortunate enough to experience one of the more remote and beautiful canyons found in the Park.

A Range of Options - Exploring the Henry Mountains Part II

Bull Creek Pass - 10,500 feet

My second favorite activity on public lands is cruising scenic dirt roads in remote locations, discovering new, unpopulated areas that warrant exploration. What's my favorite, you ask? Parking the truck and using my feet to wander some trail or path that takes me even further into places I've never been.

This post is about one such outing that took place on an excursion into the Unknown Mountains, aka the Henrys. Located in southeastern Utah, these rugged and rarely visited peaks provide respite from high temperatures when canyons and deserts are baking under the summer sun. To view the beginning of this journey, check out Part I, which describes a drive to Bull Creek Pass.

The elevation at the pass is 10,500 feet above sea level, and is the starting point for a moderate hike to the summit of Mt. Ellen, the highest point in the Henrys at 11,522 feet.  Although I can't seem to locate mileage for this particular hike, it can't be much more than 2 miles or so each way.  Any real challenge to the trail has nothing to do with steepness, although those unused to high elevations will undoubtedly struggle a bit - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

A split rail fence at the pass marks an otherwise undistinguished trailhead.  The way ahead is obvious for much of the trip. Following the ridgeline, the path begins with the destination in plain view. At this elevation the vegetation is sub-alpine, with small grasses and forbs being practically the only ground cover.  There are some stunted, wind blasted trees tucked into hollows along the way, but for the most part the terrain is devoid of anything taller than a shrub.

Like many above treeline hikes, exposure is significant during thunderstorms.  Through the months of July, August, and September anyone attempting to reach the summit should get an early start, and be well off the ridge before any electrical activity begins.  Winds are also typically quite strong along the crests, making spring hikes more challenging from the standpoint of potential hypothermia.  Although the risk of serious injury is relatively minor, the environment here does pose challenges for the unprepared, and the remoteness of the setting means help would take a lot longer to arrive.

As you can imagine, the lack of trees also affords excellent panoramas of everything on the horizon.  The views are quite distracting, and more than once I found myself stumbling along as I tried to look around me instead of where I was supposed to be going.

Despite being mesmerized by scenery progress is quick as the grade is mellow and the trail easy to follow.

The only reason I'd rate this hike as challenging is because it traverses large and unavoidable fields of what I call "ankle-eating rocks".  For the most part the stones are stable and at rest, but it is advisable to pick your way through these sections with care to avoid a sprain.

Ankle eating rocks

With a steady climb the path soon reaches the ridge, where it seems to vanish.  Not to worry though - the way is straightforward.

There are actually three distinct high points along the crest.  Looking ahead it appears as though the foremost peak is the target, but Mt Ellen proper lies beyond.

I had lost the trail upon reaching the spine, but elected to forge on anyway across uneven terrain.  Nearing the first "false" summit the way is barricaded by a steep slope of dreaded ankle eating rocks.  Making careful selection of foot placement, I scrambled upwards.  As I went I noticed a curious phenomena - the stones had a ringing quality as they shifted and collided with my passage, and I wondered if they had a high metallic content.

At the apex of this first point is a very large cairn.  I suppose it is natural to make use of the overly abundant materials at hand to mark the spot, but for what reason? I wonder if the folks who built it mistakenly believed they had reached Mt. Ellen, or maybe it was just for fun.

Even though this is not the highest point, it still offers an unlimited survey of the entire horizon, and makes a good place to pause for reflection.

The view north to Bull Mountain

Once again the trail is nowhere to seen, but the lack of a path is not a problem where this hike is concerned.  Basically continue along the ridge, picking the easiest line through large sections of loose rock.

 

Looking below me I spot a multitude of game trails criss-crossing the slopes. Apparently the creatures who call this place home are no better at finding the way than I am.

Persistent scrambling leads to the goal - the summit of Mt. Ellen.  Here another rock pile awaits the few travelers who make the journey, although this one is much less ostentatious.

The marker hides an unexpected human artifact at its base - a mailbox with an ABS register tube.

I've hiked lots of places where a trail register exists to record completion of the journey, but rarely do these posterity archives have paper or usable pens.  This was the case here as well, so I used a tiny margin on a previous entry to scribble my initials and date (I carry my own pen, thank you).

Of course noting my presence here is not the reason for the trip.  I came mostly because I could, and knew if the weather was fair I would have unparalleled vistas of the landscape around me.  On that point I was correct.

Tilted formations in the Waterpocket Fold

Tarantula Mesa

Powell Point, a readily identifiable landmark in the region

Looking south towards Mt. Pennellen

Some enterprising soul constructed a makeshift seat using a large slab of rock.  This impromptu throne served as an excellent vantage from which to take in the expanse of land and sky, and the occasional bird of prey soaring overhead.

On this particular trip I was to see only 3 other people in the mountains, and none of them were hikers.  This meant I had the highest point in southeastern Utah all to myself, and that was just fine.  The vault of sky overhead and seemingly endless horizon provided all the distraction I needed.  Thanks to an early start I was able to loiter in my seat of cool native stone for a good long while.

Unfortunately, the one factor that cut my visit short was the threat of possible thunderstorms later that day.  Although towering cumulus clouds had yet to form, I knew it would be far safer to leave early than to overstay my welcome.  Besides, I wanted to take my time on the way back down, and soak in more of the surroundings as I went.

The timing of the trip was in late summer, so most of the wildflowers had come and gone before my arrival.  Even so, there were a few hardy and colorful exceptions to be found along the way.

As I made my way down, I was finally able to discern the trail I had lost earlier located on the west flank of the peak.  There were still a multitude of ankle eating rocks to contend with, but at least I did not have to wend my way through, around, and over random piles of stone as I had on the way up.

I made it back to the truck well before the promised rains arrived, and used the extra time to scout out another place to boondock for the night.  Although I had accomplished a primary goal of the trip in hiking to the high point of the range, there was still a good deal left to explore the following day.

A rainbow arcs over the mountains after an afternoon storm

In the next and final chapter I'll complete my near circumnavigation of the Unknown Mountains.  Based on what I've discovered so far, I'll be making many trips back here to become even more familiar with Mons Montis Incognita.