Rim to River Reflections: Finding Adventure in the Pivot
There are few things in life that stop you in your tracks to take in how great our planet is. The Grand Canyon will do that.
Our recent Rim to River adventure was living VITAL—creative, adaptive, flexible, determined, prepared, and adventurous. This wasn't the hike we'd planned, but it became something even more meaningful.
The Plan That Changed: Pivoting After Wildfire
Our original vision was audacious: 23 miles and 6,400 feet of elevation change from the South Kaibab trailhead to the North Kaibab trailhead. The Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. Iconic. Bold. Even a little crazy.
Then on July 4th, lightning sparked a wildfire.
On July 13th, the Dragon Bravo Fire burned down the historic Grand Canyon Lodge. The North Rim closed. Our Rim to Rim route vanished. Our team of ten faced a choice: stop training and wait for future opportunities, continue hoping the fire would be contained, or pivot to new trails.
We chose to pivot.
Hiking Through Nature’s Aftermath
Our new Rim to River hike came just one month after the Bright Angel Trail partially reopened on August 20th. By the time we descended into the canyon on September 20th, the Dragon Bravo Fire had been burning for over two months. At 145,504 acres and 94% contained, it had reshaped the landscape around us—a stark reminder of nature's power.
Hiking through this recently reopened corridor felt both privileged and humbling. We witnessed the canyon's resilience in the wake of one of its most significant fires, the evidence of its fury visible to the north.
Into the Unknown: Facing the Canyon Differently
As the leader, I didn't know what to expect. Would the South Rim be silent? Would others be on the trail? Would we see smoke? Would we face the same challenges as a traditional Rim to Rim?
Yes to all.
But here's what I did know: those who said yes to the pivot felt the same excitement I did. We didn't know exactly what awaited us, except that it would be really hard. Hiking from the Rim to the River—no matter where you start and finish—is freaking hard. The descent is deceptively smooth, but you must preserve your muscle strength and effort for the grueling journey back up the canyon in one continuous push.
The Trail Reveals Its Wonders
The South Kaibab to Tonto to Bright Angel route was new to us. It was spectacular.
Spontaneous natural springs fed dense little oasis respites along the way. The vast, striated canyon walls loomed mighty over us as we plodded through sun and heat toward the river. Wide open sky framed dramatic, sweeping canyon views. Then came the cold relief of the rushing Colorado River—a much-needed break for our feet and bodies to cool down.
The fully exposed Bright Angel Trail on the climb out was unforgiving.
It was hard as hell.
Tonto and Bright Angel Junction. The climb up and out was intense.
Teamwork That Moves Mountains
We trained mentally and physically for three months to take on this once-in-a-lifetime challenge. We plotted our gear and nutrition strategy—performance gels, electrolytes, water, trail mix, even cold pizza.
On September 20th, we hit the trail at 5 AM.
And we did it. Together.
Climbing out of the canyon was the hardest hike I've done. The straight-up nine-mile vertical climb. The intense desert heat. The unrelenting sun. But we did it as a team, supporting each other when someone needed to slow down, cool off, refuel, or find humor in our collective intensity.
Then we crossed the finish line: 21.47 miles, 5,080 feet of elevation gain, in 9 hours and 26 minutes.
We were spent. We hugged, elated to finish so strong, toasting what may have been one of the most challenging and moving day hike experiences a person can do.
Seven adventurous teammates. One massive pivot. Zero regrets.
Lessons Beyond the Trail
But what I really learned is this: life will always throw barriers between us and our goals, dreams, and visions. Learning to see the opportunity these unexpected events offer provides a pretty special perspective on life—both individually and with those you choose to team up with to live vitally.
The Grand Canyon reminded us that sometimes the path changes. Sometimes the destination shifts. But the journey—and who you take it with—matters more than the original plan ever could.
xx Libby