Stargazing in Solitude on the Grand Canyon Floor

Sweat trickles into my eyes; my calves protest with every step—after four hours of this steep December hike to the Grand Canyon floor, my movements have shifted from steps to a hobble. But the burning muscles can’t diminish my excitement. My husband, Frank, and I are nearing a long-anticipated milestone: the Kaibab Trail Suspension Bridge.

This impressive 440-foot bridge spans the Colorado River, the powerful force that shaped the Grand Canyon. Built in 1928 and designated as a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark, it links the North Kaibab and South Kaibab trails, the main routes within the canyon. It also signals that our destination, the Phantom Ranch, the only lodge located below the canyon rim, is just around the corner.

“Let’s take a break over there for some water,” I suggest as we carefully make our way across. The bridge starts with a dramatic eight-foot-high tunnel carved into the canyon wall. It’s wide enough for a single hiker, and with its sturdy wooden floor and tall chain-link fencing, it feels secure. Yet, as I glance down 70 feet at the rushing river, that familiar fear of heights starts to creep in.

I quicken my pace, feeling my shoulders loosen as we reach the dusty boulders that serve as our makeshift benches on the other side. We drop our packs, sip the last remnants from our Nalgene bottles, and take in the stunning layer cake of salmon-hued rock surrounding us.

I’ve viewed the Grand Canyon from many different perspectives—the Desert View Watchtower, the Rim Trail, and the overlooks along Hermit’s Road—but nothing compares to experiencing the vastness of this nearly 300-mile chasm in the Earth by gazing up at it from its base. And as I know from the Grand Canyon’s DarkSky International certification, this brilliant blue sky is just the prelude to the celestial wonder that awaits tonight.

First (thousand) stars I’ll see tonight . . .

From national park star parties to the rise of stargazing-focused hotels, astrotourists like me are increasingly seeking night-sky wonders around the globe. This year, interest in astrotourism is at an all-time high. Experts at Great American Eclipse predict that up to 4 million people will travel to witness the total solar eclipse on April 8. This extraordinary event, when the moon passes between Earth and the sun, casting eerie midday darkness over a 100-mile-wide path across North America, will be the last total solar eclipse visible in the contiguous United States until 2044.

The surge in astrotourism is further fueled by a significant increase in northern lights activity; this year and the next are anticipated to showcase some of the most spectacular aurora displays in decades. In fact, Expedia data indicates that aurora hunting is now considered “the most coveted experience of 2024.”

This excitement extends to national parks. “Interest in stargazing is not only rising at the Grand Canyon—it has become our most popular programming,” says Rader Lane, the Dark Skies program manager at Grand Canyon National Park. The park’s eight-night Grand Canyon Star Party attracts thousands of visitors each June, featuring speakers, laser-guided constellation talks, telescope sessions, and astrophotography workshops. It has become the largest night sky festival in the national park system, with park rangers also hosting several free stargazing events each month.

It’s easy to understand why. The night before my hike to the canyon floor, I did exactly what you shouldn’t do before a strenuous, multi-hour workout: I stayed up late watching shooting stars and planets along the Rim Trail, which weaves between hotels on the canyon’s southern edge. I spent over an hour in solitude, distracting myself from the winter chill and below-freezing temperatures by identifying constellations, planets, and star clusters while my camera captured everything in time-lapse mode. That star-studded sky above the maze of rocks left me in awe, and it heightened my excitement for the stunning night views awaiting me at the canyon’s base—a perspective few visitors experience.

Among the nearly 5 million visitors to the Grand Canyon each year, only about 1 percent make it to the canyon floor—and it's easy to see why. The steep trails leading into the canyon are challenging. Our chosen route, the South Kaibab Trail, features a punishing 4,860-foot drop over its approximately six-mile descent from the rim to the river. (In contrast, the Bright Angel Trail is more gradual, descending 4,460 feet over 7.8 miles, but it is closed for maintenance until at least April 2024.) Hikers face the daunting task of climbing back up every foot they lost during the journey down, which is why the NPS cautions against attempting a round trip from rim to river in a single day.

Alternatively, adventurers can sleep on the canyon floor with a backcountry camping permit or stay at the crown jewel of national park accommodations: Phantom Ranch.

These cozy lodgings—accessible only by foot, mule, or river raft—feature a retro ’70s plaid-and-plank style. Options include rustic cabins with fireplaces and private half-bathrooms, gender-segregated dormitory-style huts, and a communal dining area, all constructed from wood and native stone to harmonize with the surrounding patchwork of shrub-dotted crags, thick brush, and prickly pear cacti.

Over the past century, Phantom Ranch has earned legendary status among national park enthusiasts. Due to high demand, reserving a bed or cabin requires entering a random lottery. Those who are not lucky can opt for a guided tour; apply for a campsite permit up to 4.5 months in advance; or hope for a last-minute cancellation—like my husband and I did during our December 2023 Southwest road trip.

Just days before our trek, Frank and I anticipated camping at Bright Angel Campground, a creek-side spot adjacent to Phantom Ranch. On a whim, I checked the ranch's booking portal and discovered a cancellation had opened a cabin (starting at $213) for one night during our Grand Canyon visit. I jumped at the chance.

As we check in, we’re welcomed with sweet lemonades and some rather bland (yet utterly delicious after our hike) PB&J bagels—transported down by the camp mules. I’m filled with gratitude that everything worked out so well. Not only did we secure a cabin at Phantom Ranch, but we also arrived during the transition from fall to winter, when the canyon floor’s cottonwoods shift from vibrant green to brilliant gold. This color change happens much later here due to the 20-degree temperature difference between the high-elevation rim and the canyon floor.

We ease our tired legs with a stroll to the river, a wide, bubbling waterway that feels much less daunting from ground level. Shimmering golden cottonwoods line the dusty—and thankfully flat—path, while the warm sun kisses my cheeks. Just hours earlier at the rim, we had bundled up against the biting cold and light snowfall. Now, dipping our feet into a river eddy, I’m comfortable in just a T-shirt and leggings. The rest of the afternoon is spent lounging by the river, doing our best not to think about the uphill challenge awaiting us tomorrow.

As the sun sets, it’s time for dinner. We return to the camp dining room, where we chat with about 20 fellow hikers at a long communal table, happily indulging in seconds of family-style chili and cornbread. The ranch host invites everyone back for a beer at 8 p.m., but Frank and I politely pass. We have an important rendezvous with the cosmos.

Back at the cabin, we relax on our private picnic table, allowing our eyes to adjust to the deep darkness. As they do, the canyon floor perspective reveals itself as starkly different from last night. Up on the hotel-lined Rim Trail, stars twinkle in every direction over the expansive canyon. Here, in these secluded depths, the towering rock walls create a natural amphitheater, forcing me to focus on the small patch of sky visible overhead—though after an hour, it shifts from ‘us’ to just ‘me.’

“I’ll join you soon,” I tell Frank as he heads inside for the night, his raised eyebrow acknowledging our shared understanding. Despite the 5 a.m. wake-up call and the daunting 5,000-foot ascent ahead, I’m ready for another lengthy night under the stars.

Typically, my stargazing routine starts with a sense of wonder, captivated by the vastness of the universe and our small role within it. Yet here, I find myself unable to look beyond the ancient rock dome surrounding me.

As I learned at the visitor center, the Grand Canyon’s rocks are about 2 billion years old, predating not only dinosaurs but also the earliest life forms—plants and animals alike—and even some of the celestial wonders illuminating the night sky above me.

The Pleiades star cluster, a group of blue-hued stars rich in Indigenous lore, first graced our skies approximately 100 million years ago. Sirius, the brightest star, shone down around 200 million years prior. The massive, orange Betelgeuse, part of the Orion constellation, emerged about 10 million years ago, roughly coinciding with the Colorado River beginning its monumental task of carving the landscape—a feat so vast it can now be seen from space.

Important Information Before You Go

Grand Canyon National Park is located in the northwest corner of Arizona, with the nearest airport in Tusayan, just seven miles away. Both Las Vegas and Phoenix are within a four-hour drive. Consider renting a car for the journey from the airport to the canyon rim. For a chance to stay at Phantom Ranch, enter the lottery—available up to 15 months in advance—or check for general availability as your trip date approaches for any cancellations. If you can’t secure a reservation, guided tours from outfitters like REI Adventures and Four Season Guides also offer overnight accommodations at the ranch.