Grand Canyon solo hike : A true test of strength and character

I ventured on a solo hike to the Grand Canyon in the spring of 2017. I chose the Bright Angel Trail - one of the most popular routes on the South Rim, but also known as one of the most strenuous. I had always wanted to do a solo trip, something that challenged me, pushed me, and changed me. This hike felt like the perfect place to begin.

I flew into Las Vegas, picked up a rental car, and drove to Flagstaff, about an hour from the Grand Canyon. Because it was an international trip, I couldn’t carry all my camping gear, so I decided to make it a day hike. My plan was to go about halfway, roughly 4.5 miles down to Havasupai Gardens (previously called Indian Gardens) and back.

I started the morning bright and early in Flagstaff after grabbing a solid breakfast. I reached the Grand Canyon around 10, parked, and took the shuttle to the trailhead. I had spent two months preparing for this hike. Running regularly, building incline strength on the treadmill and carefully planning my list of essentials. I didn’t want my daypack to be too heavy, but I made sure it had everything I needed: snacks, plenty of water and electrolytes, toiletries, a small sleeping bag, torch, bug spray, sunglasses, camera, sunscreen and a couple of extra layers.

I started my hike around 11 a.m., buzzing with excitement and energy. The beginning of the trail was bustling with hikers taking pictures. Descending felt like a breeze, almost too easy. Momentum carried me quickly, and I reached the 1.5-mile rest house in under 30 minutes. I reminded myself to pace carefully; going down fast meant suffering twice as hard on the way up.

The crowds thinned out as I continued. Most people only descended a short way for photos. The serious hikers were the ones going deeper. The views were stunning! The bright sunshine, layered canyon walls and endless shades of red and brown. I pushed on to the 3-mile rest house. Facilities weren’t open since it was early spring; they usually operate only in the summer peak season. The temperature hovered around 18°C, which felt perfect.

As I approached Havasupai Gardens, the landscape transformed. More green. More life. A true oasis in the desert. After hours of dry mud, rocks, cactus, and the occasional “cowboy killer” plant, the sight felt refreshing. Reaching the 4.5-mile mark within two hours made me proud. I was well ahead of my estimated time.

I kicked off my shoes, ran cool water over my feet, ate some snacks, and soaked in the overwhelming beauty. There was no phone signal anywhere in the canyon, something I knew beforehand, but I kept my phone fully charged for emergencies. After a 30-minute break, it was time to head back up which meant over 2,000 feet of climbing ahead.

The full Bright Angel Trail goes about 9.5 miles with 4,400 ft of elevation and leads to views of the Colorado River, but doing that in a single day without camping wasn’t realistic. So the 4.5-mile point was perfect for my day hike.

I estimated 2.5 hours for the descent and roughly 4 hours for the climb up. If I reached the top by sunset, great. If not, I had my torch.

Around 1:30 p.m. I began the climb. Clouds were nonexistent. The gentle warmth turned quickly into sweat. I stopped for photos, caught my breath often, and admired rock squirrels and ringtails along the way. But by the time I got back to the 3-mile rest house, it was nearly 4 p.m. It had taken me almost 2.5 hours to climb just 1.5 miles, far more than I’d planned.

I needed to pick up the pace. There were no washrooms beyond this point, and I had to manage my water wisely. I pushed harder, stopping less, focusing on steady rhythm. By 6 p.m., twilight appeared and I still hadn’t reached the 1.5-mile rest house. The altitude made me nauseous. I was huffing and puffing if I tried to go too fast. So I slowed down to a steady, painfully slow pace. The sky went dark within an hour. Stars emerged overhead. I could see the faint glow of a few torchlights far behind me.

My legs felt like they were giving up. I sat down on a rock, questioning my life choices. I wondered if I should just pull out my sleeping bag and camp, but it wasn’t safe to stay alone on the trail at night. I recorded a video message for my husband, just in case. Two hikers, a young couple, noticed me sitting and checked on me. They told me the 1.5-mile rest house wasn’t far and offered for me to walk with them. I agreed and reached the rest house with their company.

I had only 1.5 miles left. I took a break, let them go ahead, and put on some EDM to lift my spirits. Slowly, I continued upward. In the faint starlight, I could see the canyon abyss to my left and towering rocks on my right. The moon was absent, making the sky incredibly bright with stars. Because the canyon remains naturally dark, stargazing there is magical.

But it was also getting cold. Around 8:30 p.m., I stopped to put on a jacket and eat a snack. As I sat on a rock, I heard rustling. There was no wind at all. I brushed it off as squirrels, until the sound came again. I looked up and saw a pair of eyes reflecting back at me from the rocks. My mind raced: mountain lion? ringtail? mule deer?

I didn’t dare shine my torch directly at it. My instincts screamed at me to be loud. I blasted music on my phone and sang, well, scream-sang as loudly as I could. The eyes were still there. I didn’t know whether to move. What if it was a mountain lion? The left edge of the trail had no barrier, it would be a deadly fall.

I waited, but the seconds felt like an eternity. At 9:05 p.m., I made a decision. I kept singing loudly and started moving carefully, steadily. Not slow enough to linger, not fast enough to provoke anything. I passed the rock without looking back, adrenaline surging through me. I climbed the next 600 ft in under 20 minutes. When I finally saw the street lights at the rim, tears filled my eyes.

I had made it.

It was one of the toughest physical and mental challenges I had ever faced. I dropped my bag and lay flat on the ground, catching my breath. The overwhelming pride, the relief, the raw accomplishment washed over me.

But the day wasn’t over yet. I walked to the park office only to learn that the last shuttle had left 30 minutes earlier. So I had to walk another 30 minutes to my car. After surviving that trail, the flat road felt like child’s play.

I reached my car, grabbed dinner, and drove back to Flagstaff. A hot shower, a delicious meal, and ten hours of uninterrupted sleep followed.

It remains one of the greatest experiences of my life, a true test of strength, resilience, and character. A journey I’ll never forget.