Day 5, Grand Canyon East Rim to Grand Canyon North Rim

After walking 1.2 miles, I arrived at Crystal Spring, a concrete structure designed to keep the water clear. With two liters still left from yesterday, I only needed to filter one more.

This would be plenty for me until I reached the next water source, a ranger station inside the park.

The trail continued another mile or so through North Canyon Wash, a narrow and shallow dry swale. Cold air hung at the bottom of this depression. Compared to the balmy air near the rim, it was frigid here, and I soon had to stop again to put on my jacket and gloves.

Less than an hour later, I came to a refreshment table like the one I saw yesterday. A sign posted on this table explained that the biking and running event was called the North Rim Ramble. It included a marathon, half-marathon, seven-mile run, and a six-hour bike race.

No one was here. Robert said yesterday at the other table it was okay to take water and snacks, so I presumed that was also true today. I took an orange and about a half-liter of sports drink.

The sun was high enough by 7:15 a.m. that I began to feel warmer. As soon as I stopped to take off my jacket, a squirrel started to shout at me. I can't translate squirrel, but I was certain from the hateful tone that my presence was not welcome.

The landscape remained gently rolling, with occasional flat stretches. I continued to see ponderosa pines with aspen sprinkled in here and there, but now there were also other spruce and fir trees. The trail was mostly smooth, allowing me to hike at a fast pace.

My campsite last night was at 8,888 feet above sea level. The trail was now gradually pushing higher than that. When I stopped at 8:45 a.m. to eat breakfast, I discovered I was not as acclimated to this elevation as I had thought. The cereal with rehydrated powdered milk I attempted to eat didn't sit well with me, and I could only finish about half of it.

Feeling nauseous again was a concern. I needed to keep calories in me, knowing that tomorrow would be a long and strenuous day. Or it would be if I could secure a camping permit.

I didn't try to force myself to eat more, and hoped that I could hold down snack bars later. I still had plenty of them because I hadn't eaten much in the last couple of days.

Shortly before 9:30 a.m., I arrived at a fence with a gate, which marked the north boundary of Grand Canyon National Park. I was now six miles from last night's campsite. Before I started feeling sick a couple of days ago and had to slow down, this spot was where I had hoped to stop last night.

I originally planned to stop here because camping inside the park was only allowed at designated campsites and a permit was required. If I had been able to get here as I hoped, I wouldn't feel stressed now about getting to the North Rim in time to secure a permit for tomorrow.

Nevertheless, I had a couple of backup plans in case I failed to purchase a permit today. Neither was desirable. One was to get up early in the morning to be the first hiker in line at the backcountry office, but it wouldn't open until 8 a.m. The other option was to hike all the way to the other rim in one day. That was an even less appealing solution.

Once I was inside the park, the trail followed a double-track road. At the first trail junction, a left turn would have taken me a mile to a lookout tower, where I could get a view of the canyon. I didn't want to risk that, fearing I wouldn't arrive at the backcountry office before it closed.

I turned right instead to follow the AZT. Soon, I passed the highest point of the entire Arizona Trail, an elevation of 9,141 feet. I only knew this from the FarOut app, however. There was no marker on the trail to mark the spot.

A comment posted in the app claimed the National Park Service refused a request by the Arizona Trail Association to post a sign about the elevation.

At 10:15 a.m., I arrived at the ranger station, which was the last water source before reaching the rim. No one was around while I refilled my water bottles, but a few minutes later, a hiker showed up. He told me he was 77 years old. He was heading to the Utah border to complete the last of his AZT section hike.

While I was at the ranger station, I tried eating a snack bar and didn't feel sick.

There were two or three blowdowns along the way. One of the downed trees had a partial cut. Seeing fresh sawdust on the ground, I figured a trail maintenance crew worked on the tree recently and ran out of time to finish the job.

As I stepped over another blowdown, one of my feet caught a broken tree limb. I fell flat on my face but was unhurt.

A short distance farther, the trail started to get rocky. I slipped on a rock, twisted my ankle, and fell off the trail. Other than scraping my leg, I was unhurt again, and was only angry the momentary stop delayed me from getting to the backcountry office.

Perhaps it was because of my impatience, but the landscape was starting to look boring to me. The trail was mostly straight on flat ground. The only time I enjoyed this section was when the trail passed through aspen trees with their bright yellow leaves.

I didn't notice right away that the sky was turning cloudy. Raindrops began to fall at 3:15 p.m., but only a few and not for long.

When I was near an area of administrative offices and ranger quarters, a couple approached me in a parking lot. They asked what trail I was walking. I explained that I was walking the Arizona Trail, but it would have a different name on park maps, which I didn't know.

They then pointed in the direction I had come from and asked if they could see the canyon by going that way. I told them I wasn't familiar with the trails on the North Rim, but I was certain the canyon was in the opposite direction.

Though I didn't find the campground kiosk until after 4 p.m., it was still open. Much to my relief, there was no trouble getting a permit for camping tomorrow at Bright Angel Campground. It was the second of two in the canyon, and the one I preferred. Camping there would shorten the distance the next day for the climb to the South Rim.

I paid the fee for tomorrow night, plus tonight's stay at the North Rim Campground. Camping reservations are almost always needed months in advance, but special consideration is made for AZT thru-hikers. We are allowed to camp at specific sites with a last-minute reservation.

I've seen arrangements like this at other national parks, like Great Smoky Mountains, Shenandoah, Glacier, and Yosemite. They accommodate thru-hikers this way because we can't easily schedule a specific day to arrive.

Before I did anything else, I walked to the campground's laundry and shower building. It was far from the campground. Going there now, I could take care of my chores and wouldn't need to walk back. I took a shower first, then started a load of laundry.

Only one dryer was working, but I figured if I couldn't use it, I would hang my clothes to dry. Even at night, it seemed likely the desert air would dry them by morning.

While waiting for my wash to finish, three thru-hikers arrived to take showers. They were the three hikers I saw in a pickup truck on the way to Jacob Lake Inn on Day 3. They also walked past me after sundown the same day.

All three were 35 to 40 years younger than I was. The two men were Racoon and Shadow, and the woman's trail name was Ballsack. This was not the same Shadow I hiked with on Day 2.

And in case you were wondering, I wasn't going to let Ballsack's name go without an explanation. When I asked about it, she showed me a small stuff sack hanging from her pack. It contained two small cork balls, which she used to roll out sore muscles at the end of the day.

I lucked out with the dryer situation. A lady told me there was still time on the one that worked, and she offered it to me. My clothes were clean and dry by the time Racoon, Shadow, and Ballsack finished their showers. When they said they were planning to go to the North Rim Lodge for dinner, I asked if I could tag along. Without hesitation, they said yes.

A free shuttle van drove us to the lodge. Before checking out the options at three restaurants, we walked through the stately, historic building to a patio overlooking the canyon. The sun was setting when we arrived. Between us and the far horizon was the Grand Canyon's vast gorge. The sky was so dark, we could only see the silhouettes of the canyon's mesas and ridges.

Rain was falling far in the distance. It was impossible to tell if the South Rim was getting wet or if the rain was evaporating before it reached the ground. The latter is a common weather condition in the desert. It's called virga.

The restaurants were busy, so we bought our food to go and took it to a porch outside the lodge, where we chatted while we ate. They told me they hoped to complete the entire AZT in 30 days or less. This confirmed what I already knew: They will be hiking much faster, and I will not see them again.

Ballsack also shared some exciting news, though she seemed somewhat tentative about it. She was thinking about hiking a calendar-year Triple Crown. In other words, she hoped to hike all of the AT, the PCT, and the CDT in less than 365 days. I was excited for her and wished her well.

After the shuttle van took us back to the campground, we set up to cowboy camp at our designated site. The three thru-hikers told me they were getting up extremely early in the morning to hike from rim to rim in one day.

I was prepared to do that myself if I failed to get a permit for camping at Bright Angel Campground, but now I didn't need to do worry about it. That was a relief, because the forecast for tomorrow's high temperature at the bottom of the canyon was 105ºF.