I am hiking up the back-and-forth part of the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon with my husband when something lands beside me. I don’t see it, but I hear it. Then another, then a third. Then, my husband grabs me and pulls me to the rock wall just as a stone comes flying over from above and lands almost right where I was standing. We look up and see two small heads poking over the edge.
My husband yells up to them.
Husband: “Hey! Stop throwing stuff!”
Voice Above: “Okay!”
It stops for a while, and then another stone comes down, landing just a few feet in front of us. Again, two small heads are looking down at us.
Husband: “Stop!”
Voice Above: “Okay!”
We reach the top and find two children — maybe seven at the oldest — tossing small rocks over the edge, and not like they are trying to get them out into the Canyon, more like spiking a volleyball. There are two adults with them but they are busy taking photos of the Canyon and each other.
Husband: “Are you the ones throwing rocks down there?”
Child #1: “No.”
Child #2: “Watch!”
He picks up a stone about the size of a mandarin orange and whips it down to the trail below.
Me: *Gently* “You could hurt someone doing that.”
Child #1: “Mommy! Help!”
The mother looks up, alarmed. My husband and I are still further from the kids than the parents.
Mother: “What the f***?!”
She pulls her children behind her. The father steps up.
Me: “Your kids are throwing rocks at hikers.”
Mother: “They’re just having fun.”
Father: “They’re fine.”
Husband: “They’re going to kill someone.”
Father: *Scoffs* “Nobody gets killed with rocks.”
Me: “That is—”
Husband: “Look, we almost got hit several times. It’s dangerous.”
Father: “P***y.”
We walked on without another word to the family. We did notify a park staff member in the welcome center, but I don’t know if anything ever happened after.
