A Lodge Called Folkestone - Grand Canyon

A Lodge Called Folkestone

The Dream, The Challenge, The People

 by Bob Kranich

(Excerpt 20)

“The Lodge Called Folkestone”. You may wonder why the first half of the book is about my many adventures throughout the USA. Well, this first part explains just why my interests changed from hot rodding cars to backpacking. How the idea of a lodge came about, and just how the lodge came to be in North Carolina and next to the Smoky Mountain National Park, Deep Campground to be exact.

Grand Canyon National Park: I arrived and looked around. The buildings were from an earlier era. They even had the old railroad passenger cars and terminal. It seemed like the old days when the railroad was the way to travel. I bought a good hiking map and a book about Mary Colter. She was the lady architect that designed six of the stone and log buildings for the Grand Canyon attractions in the early 1900’s. At that time, she worked for the Fred Harvey Hotels and Restaurants Company. I then found those buildings: the Lookout Studio, Bright Angel Lodge, and the Hopi House. Later, when I got to the bottom of the canyon, on the north side of the Colorado River, I saw the Phantom Ranch she had built.

I went to the camping area, and loaded my pack for another seven days. Six days of hiking and one backup. I figured that I could hike down into the canyon, and up to the North Rim in at least three days and two nights. After all, it was 24 miles. It was 9.6 miles down on the Bright Angel Trail to the river, across the bridge over the Colorado River, and then 14.3 miles through the Bright Angel Canyon up to the North Rim.

I started down, and as they say, you pass through time. Every minute was dynamic. There were even early Indian pictographs on some walls along the trail. I camped two nights, and then made the hard climb out of the canyon to the overlook on the North Rim. Then I had to do it all over, and hike down the North Rim trail, through the canyon, and back up the Bright Angel Trail.

I want to mention two special memories. The first one was that I took a short side trip, I think it was the Phantom Canyon. At one point, there was a grotto. Water was pouring over a smooth rock, and it had hollowed out the underneath. It was a beautiful sculpture! One worth praying at.
The second memory was the time I saw some deer walking along a trail, on the side of the Bright Angel Canyon. It was very steep, and they were acting just like mountain goats. I also saw them jump over cracks and broken parts of the trail they were on.
On my way to my next adventure, I was driving along from the Grand Canyon on this small, deserted two-lane road. Suddenly, the rear of my vehicle leaned to the right. I quickly came to a halt, and then pulled way over on the shoulder, and got out to take a look. My wheel, together with the rear axle, was halfway out of the housing. I jacked it up, took off the tire and rim, and figured out that my wheel bearing and retainer had failed.

It was late afternoon. I took a look at my map, and saw that the nearest town was twenty-three miles away. I decided that the next day, I would get my bike out, tie the heavy axle and bearing to the rear carrier, take some snacks and water, and ride my bike into town.

That night, I camped in my Ranchero right on the side of that road. The next day I made the trip into the small town, and again, the Good Lord blessed me. I found the only station in town that could press a new bearing with retainer onto my old axle. I rode back, put the assembly in, and before I knew it, I was on the road! Just a day’s delay.

Big Bend National Park: I was about to hike in an entirely different type of terrain. This was a hike where it seemed like every plant, bush, and piece of vegetation had some kind of sharp barb that wanted to stick into you. Also, you had to search and pray for water. It was the first time I had ever used my chlorine tablets. When I checked in with the ranger for my hiking and camping permit, he asked me, “What do you have to carry water?”

“I have two one-quart canteens,” I answered.

He cautioned, “You will need more. I am going to lend you my two-quart aluminum canteen. When you come back, please give me a report of the trails and the water you found.”

I took his advice, and was ever grateful for his extra water carrier.

I started off down the trail, and soon realized to not touch or brush against any of the plants. The ranger station is in the Chisos Basin, its elevation is 5,400 feet above sea level, and all the trails drop down to the semi-desert below. It was dry, hot, very different, but interesting.

The trail wound down from the South Rim and then, through a canyon. After that, it intersected with the outer mountain loop, the Dodson Trail. The first water I found was late in the first day. I came to a rundown clay brick shack, probably a herder’s shelter. There was a small seepage. It was kind of muddy. I did fill up one of my quart canteens and put in chlorine tablets.

When you camp, you have to make sure that you are not in an arroyo. That’s a dry riverbed. It is nice and level in these beds. But if it rains somewhere up in the hills, it can become a dangerous place. A wall of water may come plunging down upon you.

The next day, I was running out of water, and I lost the trail coming out of a dry riverbed. The trail had been marked by red flagging tied to bushes when there was a turn coming up. I was looking around, and saw some red on a nearby rise. I trudged up the hill, and when I got there, guess what? It was a red flower. I had to backtrack to the riverbed, and look around until I found the red ribbon that marked the trail.

When I came to a rise in the trail, I thought that I heard rushing water. As I came over the top, I looked down at a beautiful small stream. Now I know how someone that is hot and parched feels. I almost ran down to the stream, got on my knees, splashed water on my head, drank my fill, and then filled up all three of my canteens.

Sometime later, I came to a ranch house. It was deserted and locked, but you could look around. There was a small windmill there, and water. At one time, there must have been a cattle operation at this location. I hiked further, camped, and the next day climbed back up to the visitor center through a landmark that was called the Window. It was a low opening in the mountains surrounding the basin. It must have been a natural drainage for the basin.

I was finished with my three months western trip, and was ready to get back to Houston. I packed my hiking gear in the trusty old Ranchero, and drove the 500 plus miles back to Houston.

From the Author:

This is a new book. It is about the Lodge I built in the Smoky Mountains, near Bryson City, and Deep Creek campground, North Carolina. Having been from Florida, I know that a lot of Floridians love to visit the Smoky Mountains National Park. Therefore hopefully you will enjoy my story of the building of “A Lodge Called Folkestone”.