Climbing Fishtail Mesa

September 18 & 19, 2024

After a couple of halfhearted attempts at the beginning of the 2024 season, I got serious one weekend in September about getting to the top of Fishtail Mesa. The two attempts were occasions where I started too late in hot weather, and didn’t allow enough time to tackle the summit in a single day.

On the first try I started too late in the morning, and gave up on the attempt before I even descended into the Canyon – opting to do a different hike instead. Then on the second attempt, I had the genius idea of starting the hike in the middle of the night, soon after working an evening shift in the dining room at the North Rim Lodge. I planned it that way because it was a hot day in June, and I wanted to take advantage of the early morning temperatures. I made it a little beyond the Fishtail saddle that day before making the wise decision to respect the heat, and turned around.

So this time, I finally decided to accept that, though I was still in very good hiking shape, my condition wasn’t quite the same as when I was in my late 20s and early 30s. Therefore it’d be best to plan a night camping on the Esplanade to increase my chances of getting the summit. So that’s what I did – I booked a night for the use area above Fishtail Canyon.

Day One

I didn’t have far to go on the first day of the trip, which was intended simply as an approach day to position myself below the summit. So I didn’t leave employee housing until 3pm, and didn’t start in earnest from the Indian Hollow trailhead until 5pm.

The evening’s walk was fairly routine, over familiar terrain I’d walked quite a few times this season. I hauled two gallons of water for this overnight outing, since the terrain would be completely dry.

Considering the late start, I made it a pretty good distance toward Fishtail Mesa before I called a day, choosing to camp on a small hilltop not far to the east of Fishtail Canyon.

It had been some time since I spent a solo night on the Esplanade, so it was an enjoyable time making my simple dinner of couscous and getting things situated for an early morning start. The worst heat of mid summer was in the past, but September can still be awfully hot – so I wanted to be sure of a good start.

There wasn’t a single manmade light to be seen anywhere after sunset, save for my own. Bright Venus went down in the west. An uncommonly large and luminous moon rose in the east, just a single day after the “super” harvest moon that coincided with a partial eclipse.

More photos from day one:

Day Two

I was up at 5:45am. Some light shone in the east, but it was still about 30 minutes before sunrise.

There was just a hint of disappoint in this, because on my most ambitious off-trail hikes where I want to be sure of things, I’ll set an alarm for an hour and a half before sunrise. This gives me a full hour to break camp in the full darkness, so I can be on the move as soon as it’s light enough to see – maybe 30 minutes before sunrise. It’s not an especially difficult feat for winter trips, but in the summertime it often turns out to be less realistic as I trend more into late evenings.

Still, I was satisfied to be up and packing before sunrise, and the mild disappointment was immediately quelled by the beauty in my surroundings. I was comfortable overnight in temperatures that were just chilly enough for sleeping, and everything was now silent and perfect.

I boiled some coffee to get me going, loath to break the silence with the sound of my stove.

Soon I got to work arranging my things for the day – separating things I wanted to carry for this day’s hike from the things I could leave behind, like my lightweight tent and sleeping bag. I stowed these items under a nearby rock that offered the best chance of shade (and concealment from ravens) to retrieve on the return trip, built a cairn to help me find this place later, and also created a GPS waypoint. Much of the terrain here on the Esplanade tends to look the same.

I left two liters of water here with my overnight cache, and chose to carry five liters for the day.

Approaching the Saddle

I was hiking away from camp at 6:45. These first steps were great fun as I felt confident, happy, and in my element. Getting these summits in the Grand Canyon obviously requires some physically ability, but for me success often hinges on having the motivation and willpower to go on, something I call having the “oomph” in me. When the solo oomph is missing, it isn’t gonna happen, unless maybe I’m with a strong partner to help carry me along. I felt good and energy reserves started fairly high.

I was extremely grateful for the early appearance of “September clouds” that brought some early shade. There’s something about the look of the clouds in September – whether you’re on the east coast, or out west – that are different than other times of year. In my mind, anyway.

More images from the early morning:

At 8:00 I began the climb up to the saddle, which took about 30 minutes.

Climbing up the saddle:

The Saddle to the Summit

I traversed at the foot of the Coconino on the north side, and got to the ravine where I turned around on a sweltering day in June. But today I had plenty of oomph left in the tank, descended to a manageable place to cross the ditch, and climbed back up it.

At 9:30 I came to the obvious break through the white cliffs, which didn’t present any difficulty. But at the top, I was met with a mess of steep slopes in the Toroweap, broken on occasion by nasty scree. It was unclear where exactly to find the break in the Kaibab, or even in which direction it lay, but off to the right looked most promising.

Fortunately there were some faint sheep tracks as guides, so I made what seemed to be the only logical choice in beginning a contour up and to the right. The route from here developed sort of organically as I followed the sheep tracks and scars in the scree that looked most attractive, as I’d otherwise get hung up on some nasty ground almost immediately.

examples of the scree, with a visible sheep track and views

More photos on the ascent:

Exploring the Summit

Eventually I found my way up into the little notch at the east corner of the mesa, and on to the top! Nothing more than light 3rd class scrambling was required, though plenty of very steep, unstable ground felt hairy and exposed – places where a lot of care was needed to avoid taking a bad tumble.

I found the summit register at the geographic high point of the mesa, right where I expected it, at 11am. I really enjoyed my time here. The views were fantastic, and this was yet another summit that I’d had my eye on for a long time. The log recorded just 5 visits over the last 7 years, since 2019, when a new notebook was placed.

Views along the “south rim” as I approached the high point.

To be on such an expansive, flat-topped mesa felt special, like exploring hallowed ground – a special sky island of pinyon juniper. I rambled to the “north rim” to get a look at the perspective from there too.

More views along the south summit:

I remembered reading that Harvey Butchart once went all the way out to the south end of the mesa. I was really tempted to do the same (Imagine the view from there!), but alas, I had to make the conservative choice because of water needs on this relatively hot September day. Plus I had to be back at housing near the North Rim Lodge tonight in order to be set back at work there the next day.

But still, I wasn’t about to just tag the summit and turn right around. So I did a bit of wandering, and went to check out some views from the “north rim” of the mesa.

Next I went to the east tip of the mesa to take a gander down upon the saddle. It’s reportedly possible for a skilled climber to take a more direct line from the saddle up to here. I of course chose to simply descend the way I came.

Speaking of Harvey Butchart, I was thrilled to find this old sardine can half-buried in the dirt on top. I read in Grand Obsession that sardines were one of Harvey’s favorite snacks, and that he was known to just toss them as litter in those simpler times. So whenever I encounter a sardine can in the Canyon (this wasn’t the first), I always like to think that it was his.

More views from the top:

The Return Trip

After a little more than 2 hours roaming the top, I started the descent at 1pm and was back on the saddle at 2:15.

The descent from the Kaibab was a little slower than the climb, since it’s always a little more difficult going down this sort of scree than when you have uphill momentum on your side.

along the contour back to the saddle

On the returning contour to the saddle I was able to stay high and avoid the long bypass down the gully I mentioned as an obstacle on the outward journey. The footing was a little awkward and brushy up there, though, so maybe easier in this direction? That’s what I’ll tell myself, at least, to justify the effort of the low bypass on the approach.

It was a routine and scenic hike from the saddle back to my vehicle at the Indian Hollow trailhead. I left the saddle at 2:45 (after a 30 minute rest), and was back at my campsite cache at 4:15. There I took another 30 minutes to get re-situated, and was ultimately digging into my cooler for a chilled beverage at 7pm.

lengthening afternoon shadows

More images from the return trip:

After my initial attempts in the early summer, this was another especially rewarding hike! Fishtail Mesa was even more scenic than I expected, and had that “hallowed ground” effect that one might expect on something like Shiva Temple or Wotans Throne.

Plus, it was my second new Grand Canyon summit in 2024 (Woolsey Butte was first) after a dry spell of quite a few years! Maybe someday I’ll get back to spend a night on its southern end, that would be quite a treat.