Grand Canyon Road Trip, Part 2 - How Green is my Valley, How Grand is my Canyon

Dawn breaks and with it the temptation to just lounge around, luxuriate beneath the covers, avoid the seemingly frigid air. It is amazing what one comes to consider frigid after many years of Los Angeles weather – somewhere inside of me a Colorado boy hangs his head in shame. But we didn’t travel hundreds of miles to laze around in bed, so up we got and down to breakfast. Being the less seasoned hotel traveler of the pair and thus expecting nothing more than muffins and juice for my continental breakfast, I find myself spoiled for choices at the Fairfield Inn. Sure there are the standard muffins and juice (tiny muffins as well – a fine opportunity to indulge in my giant person/small world fantasy) but we are also faced with cereal, breads, fruit, yoghurt, sausage and egg biscuits, and even a waffle maker. I am only briefly tempted by the waffle maker, being a French toast man. Instead a biscuit, an English muffin with marmalade (another reminder of my father), and, of course, a tiny muffin. One does not come to be looked upon as a giant by eating normal sized food.

Feeling sufficiently giant sized after the muffin we begin our final approach to the canyon. It is a short drive from Williams, and one which gives the traveler no indication of what lies ahead. The southern approach gives nothing away, there are no smaller canyons to prepare you, no gradual canyon acclimation, just regular flat land. I pause to consider the ghosts on this road. The pioneers and trailblazers of the past, the indigenous people, people who traveled this way before this was a national park, before there were even roads. How many people had come this way not knowing what lay ahead? It is one thing to have never been to the Grand Canyon, never to have seen it in person, but to at least have some idea of what to expect. Even having visited the site before, knowing what was in store, coming upon it is still a breathtaking experience. What must if be like to have no inkling of what you were about to see? To be traveling along and to suddenly stumble upon the Grand Canyon in all of it’s glory. As spectacular as the view is, it seems to me that it would be even more awe inspiring under those circumstances. And how much would it suck if you really needed to be on the other side?

My last trip to the Canyon - 1987…

While I had been to the canyon before, nonetheless I was very excited to be seeing it again. By all recollection it had been twenty years since I had last been there, and while I have no specific memory of my father associated with this place, I know that he had been here. The ghosts of the road that call to me now were instilled in me over years of family road trips and I imagine these same ghosts calling to my father. However, as excited as I was to see the canyon again I was even more thrilled for Courtney to be seeing it for the first time. She knew what to expect, I’m sure, but I still imagined her as one of those early travelers, about to be awed by the immensity of Mother Nature. At least I knew she didn’t need to be on the other side.

And then we are there. There are glimpses of the canyon spied through the trees as we look for a place to park. Even those brief views glancing sideways from behind the wheel of a car are awe inspiring. But nothing compared to the breath taking site we are greeted with when we finally are out and standing right next to the canyon. Even with the haze that will spend the day milling about in the lower parts and further reaches of the canyon, we are greeted with a postcard view. The first of many and in fact it seems as if you could stop at any point along the rim, point your camera toward the canyon, and effortlessly snap a postcard shot. It is next to impossible to take a bad shot of the canyon. Thus begins our day of strolling along the rim.

Grand Canyon Post Card View #2763…

As much as I would like to say that I remember specific vistas, after a day of peering over the edge of a giant crack in the earth, they all began to blend together, further evidence of the postcard view greeting visitors along the entire route. More distinct are the structures that dot the rim of the canyon. While we don’t have the canyon entirely to ourselves, the time of year and brisk winds that keep up for the entire day seem to have kept the visitor count rather low, and while there are people along the entire length of the rim, it is at these structures where the crowds become most prevalent. I am torn between my desire for a more peaceful and isolated canyon experience, which we get for small stretches along the rim, and the pull of the lodges, gift shops, and restaurants. The canyon itself is history – almost too much to comprehend. With the canyon I am overwhelmed by billions of years of history. With the lodges, I once again feel the echo of ghosts. I have no personal connection to these ghosts, as I’ve said I have no specific memory of my father in this place. These ghosts are more of a shadow, a recollection of what a visit to the canyon once was. If asked I would be unable to tell the age of any of the buildings and have no idea when the earliest structures would date back to, but I catch glimpses of each of them that call out a different time, whether accurate to the canyon or not. I imagine visitors in the 20’s and 30’s – dressed up for a day at the canyon. In the restaurant I can feel visitors in the 50’s. Some of the more non-descript lodges call back to the 60’s – men in white shirts with thick, black glasses and buzz cuts (I don’t know why but every picture I get of the 60’s is populated with NASA employees for some reason). All these ghosts are mingling together in my imagination.

We push further west and the crowds once again melt away. The paths out this way are a little less tame. The pavement is missing in places, there are more elevations we need to climb, at one point the path ends entirely and we are off road. We come across a mine head frame, fenced away, out of reach and off limits. I feel the pull. It is a pull my father would have felt or a pull that he did feel. I don’t remember it, but it’s not like this is a new mine. For a fraction of a second I have a familiar thought that I haven’t yet been able to hold back – I’ll have to tell dad about this.

The Mine…

It’s been a long day but there is still a bit more to see. We’ve made it as far west as we can go in this portion of the park, it’s time to go east. We make our way first back to the car and then to the eastern edge of the park. This late in the day the crowds have really thinned out which somehow makes me feel like we are hangers on – the party’s over, we just refuse to leave. The feeling resonates in me again when I see a closed up snack bar. I try to explain the feeling to Courtney. The light has taken on the golden quality of the setting sun, which signals out our final stop. While there are no real clouds to speak of for a traditional sun set, and the haze in the canyon becomes almost opaque with the back light of the sun, it is still a spectacular sight. With that firmly planted in our memories, it is time to head back to Williams.

A Hazy Sunset…

Click on photos for larger views.

For more photos, visit my flickr page…