By Michael Lanza
The heat presses in from all sides as we hike down the Bill Hall Trail off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The overhead sun feels as if it has expanded to a supernova threatening to engulf the planet. The rocks radiate waves of heat up at us; I wonder if they might actually reach egg-frying temperature today. Even the air seems to be rising to a boil like a vast kettle on a stove. We hike cautiously over broken stones that slide underfoot, leaning out onto our trekking poles for the two- and three-foot ledge drops on this path—which appears better suited to bighorn sheep than to bipedal primates hauling backpacks weighed down with gear, food, and a surplus of a rare element out here: water.
It’s not even 9 a.m. at around 7,000 feet in the second week of May, and the forecast for the bottom of the canyon—where we are headed—calls for highs in the 90s over the coming days. In other words, we must remind ourselves that these are the coolest hours of the day, and we should try to enjoy them because this respite from the heat—however much it may not feel like a respite—won’t last long.
Three friends—Todd Arndt, Chip Roser, and Jeff Wilhelm—and I have set out on a four-day backpacking trip on the 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop off the Grand Canyon’s North Rim. We’ve come in mid-May hoping to get lucky with the temperatures during one of the two brief seasonal windows for taking this trip. And it turns out we did get lucky in that the trailhead access road only became free of snow and passable days ago; had we planned dates much earlier, we might have been shut out. (Autumn often has a slightly longer ideal window for backpacking this loop. See my trip-planning tips in the Take This Trip section at the bottom of this story.)
When reserving a backcountry permit months in advance, it’s a roll of the dice to guess which dates in spring will reward you with snow-free roads and lower-than-supernova temps. While the recent heat wave melted away the last snow and dried out the roads on the North Rim, it unfortunately also transformed the inner canyon into the inferno it normally becomes from late May well into September—when this environment shows its true face as a place hospitable to lizards, snakes, and scorpions, but not so much to humans.
The Grand Canyon doesn’t just get hot, it gets really hot.
But our circumstances can certainly be viewed as a water bladder half full rather than half-empty. While the higher stretches of the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop pass through parched, waterless desert—the reason we are each hauling three liters or more of water now—the lower sections that form the roundish part of this lollipop loop we’re hiking have an unusual abundance of water in fast-moving, perennial streams.
In fact, the two creeks and one river (in addition to the Colorado River) that we will hike along pour over some of the Big Ditch’s prettiest waterfalls, course through spectacular narrows, and nurture oases of trees and vegetation. That’s why the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop has become a prized destination for in-the-know backpackers and river rats. Plus, even though the upper parts of the loop are dry, the vistas are the biggest of the hike, revealing the Grand Canyon’s majestic breadth and depth.
And while most of the route’s mileage offers no more shade than you can find under a prickly-pear cactus, there are pockets of shelter from the sun beneath trees along the creeks. We can hunker down like native desert fauna through the incinerating heat of the middle hours of each day, while hiking in the cooler early mornings and evenings.
We came here with a clear-eyed understanding that this hike from the North Rim down a vertical mile to the Colorado and back up again, on often-rugged trails, in heat that pushes the edges of human tolerance, will be really tough. But in compensation for that suffering, we’ll explore one of the more unique corners of the Grand Canyon.
All we have to do is survive it.
Read about how climate change is affecting the Grand Canyon and other parks in my book
Before They’re Gone—A Family’s Year-Long Quest to Explore America’s Most Endangered National Parks.
After hours of perspiring copiously while hiking downhill, the incongruous sight of the Thunder River can make your stewed brain suspect it’s a mirage.
By early that first afternoon, we’ve dropped nearly 4,000 feet from the Monument Point-Bill Hall Trailhead. We traversed the Esplanade—a broad plateau of slickrock, massive boulders, and sand at around 5,000 feet, with long views of the canyon—and descended off that plateau on a double-black-diamond-steep portion of the Thunder River Trail, occasionally surfing the smashed dinner-plate stones that comprise it. Then we crossed the starkly barren and absolutely-devoid-of-shade Surprise Valley in skull-baking heat. Only the wind, ash-hot but mercifully strong, makes the steadily rising temperature barely tolerable.
Now, standing the edge of Surprise Valley, we’re looking down at today’s third long, knee-pounding descent through countless switchbacks over loose and rocky ground on a steep canyon slope. Hundreds of feet below us, a lushly green oasis of tall trees stands out against the landscape of cliffs and dirt in shades of ochre and brown. Immediately above this tiny but spirit-lifting soul patch of forest, a roaring, spring-fed waterfall erupts from the middle of a cliff face: the origin of the Thunder River.
Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.
In one sense, the Thunder River isn’t much of a river: From that waterfall at its source, it only flows about a half-mile, although it drops some 1,200 feet in a continuous cascade to its confluence with Tapeats Creek. One of the shortest rivers in the country, it’s also certainly one of the few rivers that’s a tributary of a creek.
But the sheer volume of water gushing from the cliff makes it one of the most dramatic tributaries along the Colorado River’s entire 277-mile length through the Grand Canyon. Unlike most rivers that begin as trickles and streamlets coming together, it leaps from its headwaters birthplace fully formed. Naturally, it’s a great spot to escape the heat. In the shade of the trees and the mist below the waterfall, it feels about 25 degrees cooler. We lounge in the water and beside it for an hour or more. Not surprisingly, in the time we’re there, several parties of river rafters arrive, having walked a couple miles up the Tapeats Creek Trail from the Colorado River to see this waterfall.
We reach a designated campsite in the Upper Tapeats camping area on Tapeats Creek around 3 p.m., in the full-on blacksmith’s forge heat of the day—it’s probably in the mid-90s. We’ve hiked nine horizontal miles and almost a vertical mile downhill, somehow also accumulating over 800 feet of elevation gain over the course of the descent from the North Rim. Although we’ve all completed days of hiking that were three to five times that distance, the fatigue of the heat, the rugged terrain, and the equivalent of walking down well over 400 flights of stairs carrying a pack—if those stairs were intermittently built of loose stones ready to tumble with each step—has left us all feeling physically spent far beyond what we’d expect.
Plan your next great backpacking trip in Grand Canyon, Grand Teton, or other parks using my expert e-guides.
The almost inevitable dehydration resulting from hard exertion in that kind of heat certainly contributes to the physiological toll: We’re all guzzling water in camp to refill our tanks. Chip and I will both go hours before peeing again.
Of the two campsites at Upper Tapeats, the one slightly upstream is larger, but the downstream one has shade sooner and plenty of space, and sits right on the creek; both are empty, so we grab the lower. While walking between them and the creek for a matter of minutes, I make the egregious error of leaving the top of my backpack not securely closed, and return to find Jeff saying he caught two ravens pulling food from my pack. I assess the damage: a bag of bars torn open, and another bag of the pita bread that was to be part of my lunch every day shredded, with its contents torn up in the dirt or gone. A little while later, as I’m still cursing them, we see one of the ravens fly overhead with a chunk of pita in its mouth.
As dusk dims toward night, bats emerge, making jet-fighter aerial maneuvers overhead, somehow throwing together a meal from the meager offerings of insects in the desert. The steady drone of Tapeats Creek gifts me with a night of coma-like sleep.
In the morning, Todd emerges from his sleeping bag after spending the night out under the stars instead of in one of the tents, and tells me he didn’t sleep well; mice and other small critters kept darting over him, startling him awake. “I may have to rethink the tent thing tonight,” he says.
Today, we have to hike only two miles from Upper Tapeats to the Lower Tapeats camping area, where the creek spills into the Colorado River. Knowing there’s no shade down there, we decide to find shade to hide out in for most of the day. After the sun hits our campsite shortly after 9 a.m.—instantly jacking the temp up about 10 degrees, from pleasant to “time to go”—we start hiking, passing through sprawling, beautiful prickly-pear cacti gardens, with flowers in bloom, on the canyon bottom before the trail climbs up the canyon wall.
While stepping carefully along that narrow goat path, with a potential hundred-foot plunge below my left elbow, I glance down to see a bighorn sheep, with a full curl to its horns, leisurely sauntering through the sparse scrubland along the creek below me.
The trail descends again, and we find a sandstone ledge beside Tapeats Creek with a four-foot wall that casts a strip of all-day shade just wide enough for all of us to lie down on pads. And there we pass the next several hours reading, talking, eating, and chugging water.
I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.
Gear Tips Trekking poles are indispensable for this route’s steep descents and ascents. See my reviews of trekking poles. In dry, hot conditions, wear supportive but lightweight boots or shoes that breathe well (not waterproof); see all of my reviews of hiking shoes. Carry a reliable headlamp with fresh batteries or a full charge in case you’re hiking in the dark for the cooler temperatures; see my review of the five best headlamps.
With a forecast for clear weather, you often don’t need a full tent in the Grand Canyon. But sleeping out on just a pad under the stars can invite mice and lizards to crawl over you, repeatedly waking you during the night. Scorpions are also a danger (although rare). Minimize pack weight and avoid nocturnal critter encounters by using an ultralight tent without the rainfly or just a portable, lightweight cot that elevates you off the ground. My friend, Jeff, used a Therm-a-Rest Ultralight Cot ($220, 2 lbs. 10 oz., regular) on this trip (and has on other trips), and we were all envious of it. Buy one now at Moosejaw.com.
Your desert kit should be lightweight, including an ultralight shell rather than a full rain jacket; clothing that protects from the sun like a personal favorite sun shirt, the Outdoor Research Echo Hoody (buy one at moosejaw.com, ems.com, or outdoorresearch.com); and lightweight insulation (mainly for mornings and evenings at the rim or on the Esplanade). See my Gear Reviews page and these stories at The Big Outside:
“Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist”
“Gear Review: The 10 Best Backpacking Packs”
“The Best Ultralight/Thru-Hiking Packs”
“The Best Ultralight Hiking and Backpacking Jackets”
“25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories”
“The Best Base Layers for Hiking, Running, and Training”
“The 10 Best Down Jackets” (see the lightest models)
13 thoughts on “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop”
Hello again, Michael. My backpacking friend and I completed this hike the first week of May. We appreciated your usual good guide in getting ready for it. We elected to do it in 5 days, 4 nights to have some easier days, but could definitely have done it in 4. By going a little earlier than you, we did not experience oppressive heat, and felt the Surprise Valley sections were pretty tolerable despite the full sun exposure. Adding 10 degrees would have felt different. Road conditions to the trailhead were very good. By camping at Upper and Lower Tapeats campgrounds, day 2 was an easy one and allowed for hanging out in the one shaded area at Lower Tapeats and reading as well as chatting with an entertaining river guide. Crossing the creek was not difficult, mid-calf level for us, and allowed for avoiding the most exposed area of the trail on the west side of Tapeats Creek. We encountered a rattlesnake at both Upper and Lower Tapeats.
The hike along the river to Deer Creek was really nice scenery and by taking the high route we again avoided the most exposed section. By camping at Deer Creek, we were able to walk back down to the narrows in the late afternoon and have it to ourselves (river parties having moved on), with great flat light for photography. We felt we could have pushed all the way to the rim in one day on the climb out, but very much enjoyed spending the afternoon in ample shade at our water cache on the Esplanade and camping there, breaking the climb into two days.
Good to hear from you again and it sounds like you had very good conditions for a beautiful hike. Thanks for sharing all of those details. You noted that being there in early May gave you moderate temps, which is fortunate. For the benefit of everyone reading this, I’ll add that I’ve also seen very hot temps even in April—in fact, my most-recent trip there, which I wrote about in this story, was this past April 5-10, and we had mostly very nice temps but still some hot afternoons.
Good to hear from you again, Michael. Keep in touch.
Hi Michael, brilliant review which really makes me want to do this hike. Is it possible to do it in mid-March, weather and access-wise? Many thanks
Thanks for the kind words and your question. This hike usually would not be possible in mid-March, mostly due to road access, although wintry weather in the upper canyon would present its own challenges, too. This is a wonderful trip but does have challenges that some other canyon hikes do not have. I get into much more specific detail about the hiking seasons and other details of this trip in the planning section at the bottom of this story (which does require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to access).
See my Custom Trip Planning page if you’d like my help planning your trip.
Good luck and get in touch anytime.
Hello. Can you tell me of your experiences of the Vortex while Hiking at Grand Canyon. Thank! Queen
Sorry, but I haven’t experienced any energy vortex in the Grand Canyon. But it’s a beautiful place that I find energizing!
Thanks for the write up Michael! If you only had 3-4 days to spend in the canyon, what’s your favorite hike? My wife and I have pretty much done all the major routes on the south side but never anything on the north. We are debating this hike or doing another variation on the south.
What do you think?
Thanks, Matt. For three to four days off the South Rim, I’d suggest South Kaibab to Hermits Rest or “Hermits Rest to Bright Angel, but it sounds like you’ve probably done those trails.
Have you backpacked the Escalante Route, Lipan Point to New Hance or Grandview? I write about that in this story, which also has photos from the Tanner and Beamer trails, a great out-and-back hike from Lipan Point. See my e-guide “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”
From the North Rim, I’ve only hiked this loop and the North Kaibab and I’d highly recommend the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop—although it’s a tough hike in three days and not easy in four days.
See also my story “5 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”
Great report, still on my list.
Thanks, Barry. I hope you tick it off your list.
One of my all-time favorite backpacking adventures!
That does not surprise me, Mitch. Thanks for the comment.