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We’re in at the , more than 2,400 metres above sea level. Located high on the Kaibab Plateau, this place can see snow half the year. Relatively few tourists venture here, and fewer still will attempt what we have in mind.

Although around 5 million people visit the Grand Canyon annually, only an estimated 10 per cent set foot “below the rim.” Most tourists simply sightsee from the top of the more accessible South Rim, about 2,100 metres above sea level.

Just one per cent of visitors go all the way down to the canyon bottom, which, of course, necessitates hiking all the way back up. This bucket-list route is known as the , and we — an intrepid group of seven that includes my husband, Andrew, and some of our closest friends — have come to do just that.

It’s not an organized event but a plan-it-yourself adventure. Many people choose to split up the distance into segments by (permits required). We’re intent on covering the whole thing, which stretches nearly 39 kilometres, not including the warm-up to the trailhead, all in the same day.

It’s an endeavour the National Park Foundation calls “strenuous,” with possibly “” for the unprepared. Signage at the canyon bluntly asks, “Will you become a statistic?” while citing helicopter rescues. But our group is undaunted. We’re all hardened marathoners, with just one exception, Tania, an avid hiker and sister of my close friend Mo.

On game day, our 4 a.m. alarm is a rude awakening, but we have to start in the pitch black, weakly illuminated by stars and headlamps, in a bid to avoid hitting the toughest sections during the hottest hours. We aim to finish well before the October nightfall.

Fuelled by canned cold brew and a taste for irrational pursuits, we jog from our rustic log cabins over to the North Kaibab trailhead. “Group hug!” insists my most energetic friend Shal, as we snap one last “before” pic, hiking poles held in shivering hands, our vests laden with water, sweets and salty treats for the long haul.

While the descent should be easy, my fear of tripping over the brink (and into the great beyond) makes it a slow go. But it’s never too terrifying and we’re not alone. There’s a sporadic stream of other hikers and runners, seemingly of all ages and athletic abilities. In fact, after this trip, I learn that a 92-year-old geologist, Alfredo Aliaga, completed Rim-to-Rim during this same weekend, in .

Golden hour arrives faster than I expect, the beauty of the sky’s palette rivalled only by the shades of the russet valley, greened by prickly cacti, pines and stout shrubbery. We pause often for photo ops, taking in the scenery and trying to grasp the mind-bending vastness.

“You’re my heroes!” a fellow hiker calls out, apropos of nothing, as we pass. “Life is beautiful,” a stranger observes to the universe and no one in particular. “Enjoy it, enjoy it,” another urges. The chorus of affirmations on the trail makes this feel like we’re part of some plucky little community.

When the terrain finally turns to level ground — the flats won’t last long — we break into a run where we can, the sun cranking up the heat. Before noon, we arrive with relief at the legendary landmark at the canyon’s bottom: , the only lodging facility “below the rim,” whose stone cabins have stood since 1922. It’s so wildly popular that sleeping here requires lucking out in a lottery (enter now if you hope to stay in 2025).

Hikers congregate at the ranch’s canteen to recoup, slather on more sunscreen, and order the famous reward for all who’ve trudged the distance: possibly the best lemonade of your life. It’s ice-cold, sparkling and fresh out of a Lemmy’s soda fountain.

“The views from the top are magnificent obviously, but looking around from the bottom is more special to me,” says Ivy. “These are experiences possible only for those who go all the way down.”

Soon after Phantom Ranch, crossing the suspension bridge over the Colorado River marks the end of the easy part. It’s almost all uphill from here. The climb from the ranch to the South Rim, via the Bright Angel Trail, is just shy of 16 kilometres, but on average it takes hikers six to 10 hours. One section is so wickedly steep, it’s dubbed the Devil’s Corkscrew.

In psychology, there’s a phenomenon called the goal gradient effect. In short, when the end is nigh, people are motivated to go faster. It’s what compels bone-weary marathoners to sprint the home stretch. But I can’t call on the mind trick here. The switchbacks stretch as far as the eye can see. No finish line in sight.

Except I hear a faint clamour. We’re still a handful of kilometres away from the end, and the sun is sinking, my goosebumps returning. “Is that a crowd cheering at the finish?” I ask Ivy, wondering if I’ve reached the hallucination phase of exhaustion. “No, can’t be,” she insists. This isn’t a race, after all.

I trudge on, drifting behind my friends. As my sapped muscles silently argue with my stubborn will, I fall into easy conversation with other plodders, who offer snacks and pep talks. “The first time I saw this, I nearly cried,” declares one woman, a repeat Rim-to-Rim hiker.

“Almost there! How do you guys feel?” asks Andrew. I reply with an inarticulate groan. “Fantastic! I say we do this again,” responds my friend and Ivy’s husband, Huston, who does Ironman races for fun, making him a poor judge of what’s hard.

Before I glimpse the trailhead, I can hear the cries of “Wooooo-hoo, wooooo-hoo!” and the clanging of a cowbell. The clamour is no figment of my imagination. It’s the exuberance of a large group of hikers who finished earlier — many of them part of a company that does Rim-to-Rim every year. I’m grateful for the boost. My friends cheer me on as I run the final few seconds.

“Oh, my god, that was … tiring” is all the eloquence I can muster after almost 12 hours in the Grand Canyon. But I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again.

How to hike the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim

Tips for plotting your own adventure

Choose your travel window. While the popular South Rim is open year-round, the remote North Rim operates seasonally, usually from mid-May to mid-October (weather permitting). Avoid the dangerous heat of peak summer.

Decide your route. Hikers can go from the North to South Rim, or vice versa. A seasonal shuttle bus runs between the two, or you could arrange a private car service like the Phoenix-based Thomas Transportation ().

Book pre- and post-hike lodgings well ahead. Accommodations are limited and demand is high. Find South Rim options at , and the North Rim’s only in-park lodging (seasonal) at .

Get operational updates from the National Park Service (). It’s crucial, for example, to know where potable water is available, which can change with little notice.

Find advice from the community. The 75,400-member-strong Facebook group “” is full of tips.