The glow of the stars begins to soften as the navy sky of dawn slowly spreads above the South Rim. Sleepy-eyed visitors emerge from their beds, clutching steaming cups of coffee and making their way toward the light show. It is sunrise at the Grand Canyon, when the new day reveals the purple, shadowy depth of the Canyon’s jagged spires and peaks. Peach-colored clouds hover while the visitors slowly warm up, taking pictures and gazing out on the enchanting scene that unfurls before them. But there’s something the visitors can’t see: a pair of rock-climbing brothers who began their day under a dark sky, hiking into the deep vastness below and toward another new adventure in the middle of the Canyon.
Pernell and Aaron Tomasi — a U.S. Department of Agriculture botanical scientist and a retiree from UPS, respectively — were first featured in Arizona Highways in July 2008, in the story Reaching New Heights. At the time, they were on their way to completing 100 summits in the Canyon. Flash forward to 2021, and the brothers have surpassed that goal — by a lot. To date, Pernell has conquered 137 summits, and even though Aaron has been his partner on many of them, he can’t recall the exact number he’s climbed. As they think back to their ambitious plan, they also reflect on how it helped them evolve into the men they are today.
A map of the Grand Canyon dominates the middle of the wall in Pernell’s home office in Tempe. With a soft smile, he proudly points to a grainy photo taken back in 1994, during the first Canyon climb that he and Aaron completed: Mount Hayden, on a trip with their younger brother. Today, the brothers, both in their 50s, look about the same — a touch more mature, but with the same toned arms, relaxed postures and joyous smiles.
However, when that photograph was made, the brothers weren’t thinking about a 100-summit goal. It was just another Canyon trip, like the ones they’d been on so many times with their father and other family members in their childhood. “Growing up with my dad, he would say: ‘I’m going to the Grand Canyon. Who wants to go?’ ” Aaron recalls.
Now, the brothers can partly credit those experiences for their peak-bagging prowess as adults. Once they’d completed around 25 Canyon summits, Aaron suggested pushing toward 100. That goal seemed high enough to keep the brothers returning to the Canyon as often as they had during their childhood.
But as eager as they were to dominate the summits, their list started to feel like a chore. “When you’re obsessed about the number or obsessed about getting the summit, that’s a bad situation to be in, because you force it sometimes, and that’s when you get in trouble,” Pernell says as he scans his long list of Canyon climbs. Among them are Zoroaster Temple, Monument Creek Pinnacle, Thor Temple and Sullivan Peak.
Sometimes, “getting in trouble” meant finding themselves with little water or an unexpected weather change that could put them in a dangerous position. At times, the Tomasis were forced to turn around and head home without checking a summit off the list. As they grew more frustrated, a heavy sense of burden eventually drained their motivation. They thought about calling it quits several times.
As with most setbacks, though, the brothers eventually climbed out, thanks to new perspectives. Those came from acquaintances in the rock-climbing community who asked the Tomasis for “beta,” or information, on some of the summits they’d already checked off their list. With no agenda of their own, the brothers felt their feeling of excitement and energy return.
Once they were back on top of Scylla Butte — amid the rugged spires and pillars that rose from the Colorado River below — they felt like they were on their own island in the middle of a vast sea. And when they returned from that climb, they found their inspiration again. Finding rare pieces of untouched earth, places where few people before them had set foot, became their motivation.
They weren’t chasing a list of 100 summits, they realized. They were seeking rare moments of pure solitude — places to connect with the stillness of the Canyon, to feel the crisp, cool breeze on their skin and the silence surrounding them. It was among the lessons this place has taught them — lessons that have helped make them who they are today.
And so, the brothers continued toward their goal. But this time, if they didn’t make their planned summit for the day, it didn’t affect them. “I’m still here in this beautiful place, so it’s no big deal,” Pernell says.
The Tomasis have put themselves in situations where their only option was to depend on themselves and their skills, making them physically and mentally stronger. When challenges appeared, they had to overcome and pass the test nature threw at them. With these victories came a deeper sense of guidance and trust.
Pernell fondly remembers the three attempts it took to reach the top of Zoroaster Temple. During the first two, the brothers underestimated the time needed to reach the summit and ran out of time on their backcountry permits. The defeated brothers headed back toward the rim but carried with them a deeper knowledge of what they needed to do. On the third try, their persistence paid off. Pernell has since returned to Zoroaster’s summit several times, and in 2019, he summited in only 21 hours, a personal best.
Both brothers exude a sense of calm and ease, rather than ego, and they’re humble when they talk about their adventures. Sure, they checked off 100 Grand Canyon summits, but they also emerged more self-reliant, happier, calmer and more considerate. Time spent in nature often has that effect.
As the Tomasi brothers step off the dusty hiking trail and back up onto the rim, they blend in with hundreds of other South Rim visitors. But when they turn around for one last look at the Canyon, they see the boundless expanse that holds their memories like a childhood home. The amber glow of the sun illuminates the isolated peaks and pillars where the brothers have adventured so many times.
The Tomasis step away and begin their journey home, back toward their “normal” lives — but with the knowledge that the Grand Canyon, shaped by the Colorado River for millions of years, has shaped them, as well.
CLIMBING THE WALLS
Rock climbing, in general, is not for the faint of heart. Add the brittle walls of Grand Canyon National Park to the mix, and you have yourself quite the challenge. Shale, which makes up much of the Canyon, often is unsuitable for climbing due to its crumbly nature. That, along with the remoteness of many of the Canyon’s routes, makes this daredevil activity inaccessible to inexperienced climbers.
Joëlle Baird, a public affairs specialist at the park, says climbers should consider the weather forecast, rock conditions and their own fitness before attempting a climb. “It is a monumental effort just to start these climbs, let alone climb them,” Baird says. “It’s not a simple walk up or approach [in most cases]. It might take you an entire day or two to get to these remote locations.”
If you’re interested in rock climbing in the Canyon, keep in mind that most of the park’s climbing routes are not doable in one day. That means you’ll be camping in the backcountry, which requires a permit from the park’s Backcountry Information Center. If you’ve never climbed in the Canyon before, you should partner with someone who has experience climbing there. And always stay alert for high temperatures, flash floods and storms, which can occur without warning. — Ariella Nardizzi