Into The Grand Canyon

April 2018

During April 2018, my wife, son, and I trekked to the American Southwest for a long-planned holiday. Like many visitors, we enjoyed the bright lights of Las Vegas, endless vistas of the Grand Canyon, and deep waters of Lake Powell. Accustomed to Maine’s lush woods and waters, the region was very different with its arid deserts and mountains and its exotic variety of plants and wildlife. One especially interesting outing was driving to the bottom of West Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Along West Route 66, the small town of Peach Springs lies 25-miles north of Interstate 40. Constructed in 1978, the interstate bypassed and isolated several small communities to save 14-miles of driving distance. In fact, the town was the inspiration for Radiator Springs, the fictional setting depicted in the Pixar movie Cars. Anyhow, Peach Springs is within Hualapai—pronounced Wa la pie—Tribal Lands and provides a starting point for a unique adventure.

Before setting out, travelers must get a day permit from the Game and Fish Department located at the Historic Hualapai Trading Post. Inside the building, I observed bounty posters for coyote and cougar set at $100 and $1,000. Raised in a hunting tradition, I understand the need to “cull the herd”. However, I’ve never seen an actual mountain lion in the wild, and coyotes have a hard enough time with mischievous roadrunners without having to deal with bounty hunters, so I wished them safe passage.

Anyway, Diamond Creek Road follows a seasonal tributary of the Colorado River, descending 4,950 to 1,550-feet above sea level. I suggest a high-clearance vehicle since you must travel a dry creek bed subject to flash floods after unexpected thunderstorms—even one occurring many, many miles away. The roadway is continually dozed and graded after spring rains. Thankfully for us, Arizona’s rainy season was still a few months off.

The American Southwest is as imagined in countless western movies. High mountains loom in the distance. Mesas, buttes, and cliffs rise from the desert basin. Steep canyon walls surround both sides of the dusty road. Pebbles, rocks, and boulders litter the landscape. Reddish hues liven the scenery’s sun-bleached grays and browns. Scrub brush, prickly plants, and cacti of all varieties carpet the ground. Since it was spring, purplish flowers bloomed from clusters of Beavertail Cactus. For those known to sleepwalk in the nude, I discourage camping outside, lest the local flora stab your nether regions.

About a mile from our destination, Diamond Creek appeared from a mountain chasm. Crystalline water flowed alongside and crossed our path at random intervals. At one point, we allowed our son to drive, and he drove headlong through the creek, water spraying in long flumes. A verdant oasis of grasses and stunted trees accompanied until the mighty Colorado River came into view.

A wide stretch of sand and brush formed Diamond Creek Beach. Several stick buildings shielded picnic tables. Above the site, the river was a wide expanse of swirling currents. Where the creek emptied, the river dropped and transformed into whitecaps and rapids. Sand and sediment kicked up in the torrent, clouding the glassy waters.

With so few places with vehicle access to the bottom of the canyon, river rafting parties use the site to launch and disembark. Between Lakes Powell and Mead, 280-miles of river waterway and wilderness canyon await those wanting to explore the Grand Canyon below the rim.

Heidi, Johnny, and I didn’t encounter another traveler during our 38-mile round-trip journey. Depending on the season, I’m certain more vehicles traverse Diamond Creek Road, but we savored the solitude and vistas of ancient landscapes—at least, my wife and I did. As usual, our teenage son appeared indifferent to the natural world and longed for the excitement of Las Vegas. So, if you’re ever in the desert hinterlands of Northwest Arizona, I recommend this unique detour.