GRAND CANYON

IT'S LONELY BUT LOVELY - THE COLORADO RIVER DOMINATES THE SCENE AT TUWEEP, THE CANYON'S MOST ISOLATED AND SPECTACULAR OVERLOOK

Author: By Dan Leeth, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, July 12, 1998

Page: M9

Section: Travel

I am alone in the middle of nowhere following a strip of dirt across the vast emptiness. Behind me trails nothing but a lingering plume of dust. No cars share the route, and the only life I see is a circling buzzard. Fingers crossed, I keep going, knowing that somewhere ahead lies Tuweep, the Grand Canyon's most isolated and spectacular overlook.

Few visit Tuweep, or Toroweap as it's sometimes called. Getting to the visual Shangri-La requires traversing 60 waterless miles of high desert. No gas. No food. No lodging. Nothing but a wide, graded path stretching mile after lonesome mile. The route to the rim slices through an open valley that intrigues with starkness, yielding no hint that a chasm bisects the land beyond. Dust devils dart and twist, and parched grasses huddle in isolated clumps. Fence lines and a few corrals suggest that cattle grazed here, somehow surviving in a land where water appears to be scarce as booze in a dry county. I pass an abandoned church still standing isolated beside the roadway. In the 1920s and '30s, homesteaders attempted to tame the harsh landscape, but drought and their plot's limited acreage eventually drove them away. The deserted house of worship now serves as a memorial to futile efforts. A few miles beyond, I enter Grand Canyon National Park. At Tuweep's sequestered location, there are no lodges, restaurants, gift shops, or idling tour buses. Its ``visitor center'' consists simply of a bulletin board and picnic table near a ranger station.

So few come that the Park Service doesn't even bother collecting entrance fees.

The road continues past the prow of the Toroweap Cliffs. The once-friendly route begins to cut across steep arroyos and jolting sections of naked rock, making this segment best-suited to trucks, four-wheel-drives, and rental cars with damage waivers. I bounce along in low gear.

At the canyon's edge, the track abruptly terminates at two campsites. One sits empty. A government-green pickup occupies the other. A ranger stands nearby, scrubbing sandstone with a gloved handful of gravel. I park, wave a greeting, and stride to the edge of the narrow chasm where less than a mile separates one side from the other. The view at Tuweep is unlike any seen from the popular North or South Rim overlooks. Reddish-brown Supai sandstone, blackened with streaks of desert varnish, abruptly plunges nearly 800 feet downward.

Only tiny ledges and cracks interrupt the sheer, vertical drop. At its base lies a short, sloping skirt of rock rubble, followed by an even larger palisade of aptly-named Redwall limestone. Stony embankments slant from the final cliffs to the tamarisk-lined, emerald-green water of the Colorado River, 300 stories below. Elsewhere in the park, the river appears distant and elusive, but here, its canyon-carving course arcs for miles in both directions, dominating the scene.

Captivated, I sit on the brink of the abyss, feet dangling in space.

Normally, only hikers enjoy such a vantage, but at Tuweep my vehicle rests only a few yards away. ``Be careful along the cliffs,'' the ranger warns, walking over to join me. ``I was involved in two body recoveries last year, and they weren't pretty sights.'' As he continues to describe the incidents in gruesome detail, I begin inching away from the edge.

We introduce ourselves, and I discover that Ranger Dave is normally a law-enforcement officer at the main North Rim tourist center. He does not seem pleased with his temporary assignment at Tuweep. ``It's too isolated out here,'' he says. As we talk, he complains that there is not much to do at Tuweep.

Obliterating graffiti, scratched in the soft sandstone by witless dolts, bores him. We walk back to the campground together. After Dave drives off, I have my choice of spots for the night. The pair of canyon-edge campsites occupy opposing sides of a large clearing.

I pick one and unload my gear. After setting up, I go for a stroll along the gorge, heading toward the darkened rocks to the southwest. Sometime after the Grand Canyon had formed, black, molten lava cascaded down the canyon's pink and tan cliffs, plugging the river with a dam 500 feet high.

Over the eons, the relentless river recut most of its channel. Only one small impediment lingers two miles downstream -- Lava Falls, the Grand Canyon's most formidable rapid. I ramble along the cliffs to a spot where I can gaze down at this long, triangular patch of froth churned up on the otherwise placid channel. Between gusts of wind, I hear its deep rumble echo from the canyon walls. I would love to watch a raft shoot the rapids. After dinner at camp, I stroll back to the rim. Setting my lawn chair on the brink of the gorge, I enjoy a front-row-center seat for Tuweep's sunset floor show. Already shaded by canyon walls, the inner gorge is dusky gray.

Upstream, I spot a rafting group encamped on a distant, sandy beach. From my roost, I watch darkness overcome light. Shadows fill the canyon bottom, climb the sides, then creep across the flats. Finally the spreading umbra extinguishes the last flaming glow from the far buttes. With Sol below the horizon, the Western sky erupts into shades of red, orange, yellow, and blue, and the canyon glows an ever-darkening magenta. To the west, Venus shimmers like a diamond in the twilight indigo. When stars appear overhead, I reluctantly return to camp. I arise before dawn and watch the process reverse itself. Blue shadows burst fiery red as the sun's undiffused rays meet the rust-colored sandstone. Soon, sunlight reaches the canyon bottom and the river shines verdant green. The boaters are already on the water. Grabbing breakfast, chair and binoculars, I walk to my perch at the lip of the chasm. Below, the rafters slowly motor by, traveling single file. The burp of their engines' exhaust reverberates from the confines. The first boat ultimately reaches the mouth of a ravenous Lava Falls. Sucked down its throat, standing waves quickly swallow the craft. It bounces and twists through the cascade's churning bowels, then passes unscathed from its turbulent gut. After the second raft successfully traverses the maelstrom, I mosey back to camp.

Ranger Dave drives up. We share the last of my coffee and exchange observations about the area. I tell him how much I savor Tuweep's quiet solitude, relish the sunsets, and thrill at the display of river runners' bravado. Unimpressed, Dave says he still prefers the action found in more developed areas. As we chat, a large van pulls into the neighboring campsite, and a group of 17 men, women, and children file out. Dave's face lights up. As they start traipsing toward the rim, he straightens his hat and walks over to warn them not to stray too close to the edge. I shout goodbye and load my camping gear. Dave may be happy to see more people, but for me it's time to leave. This place is getting too crowded.

Getting there: Three routes lead to Tuweep, each by a graded road. Directional signs exist at most major junctions, but distances are inconsistent, and Tuweep may be called Toroweap or Grand Canyon National Monument/Park. Roads may be impassable following heavy rain or snow, and all share the same final six miles, where high-clearance vehicles work best. Route 1, the most reliable and frequently used, starts from Arizona Highway 389 at milepost 24.5, nine miles west of Fredonia. The road is usually well graded but can be subject to washboarding. Distance to the park boundary -- 55 miles.

Route 2, the smoothest route, leaves Highway 389 at milepost 2.5, just east of Colorado City. The road may be slick in wet weather. Distance: 55 miles.

Route 3, which leaves from St. George, Utah, is the longest and most scenic.

Follow 700 South to River Road/ Fort Pierce Road and head south toward Mount Trumbull. The route is impassable in winter. Distance: 90 miles.

Camping: Tuweep offers seven no-charge, primitive campsites -- two grace the lip of the gorge, and five more are a mile back up the road. No water, food, or supplies are available, so campers must be fully equipped. Noncampers can find lodging a few hours away in Fredonia, Colorado City, Kanab, or St. George.

Maps: The ``Grand Canyon National Park Tuweep Information Sheet,'' available free at Pipe Springs National Monument (14 miles southwest of Fredonia), gives general information about Tuweep and provides sketches of the three access routes. The ``Southern California AAA Guide to Indian Country'' (available at gift and tourist shops) covers the entire Four Corners region and shows the main routes to Tuweep.

More information: Call the Grand Canyon National Park at 520-638-7888 or write to PO Box 129, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023.