The Grand Canyon

Post from events on Saturday...

I mentioned to someone at the campground the other night that I was concerned the Grand Canyon would not seem so grand now that I had seen so much incredible scenery. The person shook his head immediately and said “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” He knew what he was talking about.

The enormity alone is enough to take your breath away. It’s just that huge. Everybody likes to joke it’s just a big hole in the ground – sure – and the Pacific Ocean is just a big puddle.

The Grand Canyon has got to be one of the few places on earth where everyday 1000s of people, many of whom would be terrified on a twelve foot ladder, casually walk up to the edge of sheer cliffs beyond which is nothing but thin air for hundreds of feet.

I watched several, otherwise normal looking, men scramble, jump, wobble their way out on to jutting ledges or isolated precipices so a loved one could capture that awesome photo. Most of the time, these guys were lured to perches where a bad slip would mean plummeting hundreds (hundreds – many) of feet to their death. Just imagine what the photos must look like of the ones that did slip. There’s a whole book (a thick one) in the gift shops dedicated to all the people who have died in the park. There’s been 57 deaths since 1905 (I googled it).

I had planned to show you a few of the great pictures I had taken of the Grand Canyon in this entry including the one of me foolishly standing on a precipice (wink), but I can’t. My new HP laptop that I’ve been using on the trip to blog and store my photos no longer recognizes its hard drive. As if that was not catastrophic enough, the backup of my photos from Bryce, Zion and the Grand Canyon is corrupt. I had created two backup DVDs of all my photos, but something went wrong during the write process on that one. To be honest, I’m devastated. I had bought a new camera for this trip and had big plans for all those photos.

I can tell you the whole reason for the trip was for me to see the Grand Canyon. I think the Brady Bunch Grand Canyon episode had a lot to do with that. I’ve had this weird need to see the Canyon since I watched that episode. I’ve been carrying it on my bucket list all these years, and now I can cross it off, though there is no photographic evidence I was there (I did buy t-shirts and stuff). I guess Hawaii is next. My kids will have no idea what these references are about.

All kidding aside, had I rode all this way and seen nothing else besides the Grand Canyon, the trip would still have been worth it. Of course, I would have liked some photos (groan).

The south rim of the Canyon was 74 miles from my camp site. It is possible to stay closer, but all the real good places require reservations well in advance (like a year). Everyone tells you to see the south rim first because it is so much higher. It’s also very crowded and feels a little more like Disney World than a U. S. National Park.

The north rim was about 160 miles away. I did not visit the north rim this trip. Had I not gone to Vegas, I probably would have approached the Canyon from the north (Utah side) and seen both rims, but since I have to go back one day to get photos (my laptop died when I was already well away from either rim), I’m sure I’ll visit the north rim some day.

I spent all day moving from view point to view point and meandering along the 4 mile rim trail (where you can walk inches from drops higher than the elaborately railed Empire State Building observation deck). I was amazed at how many little kids were running freely along the paths. I would have been a wreck if my kids were there, and they are all grown. I think the thin air and the Disney feel lull parents into a false sense of security.

The skies were dark and threatening for much of the day. It was nice and cool. The temperature was somewhere in the mid 70s. I had hit rain on the way in. I left my rain gear on while I moved around the park. There was a brief volley of thunder and lightening.

All the high country parks do a real good job of raising your lightening awareness. Basically, they scare the crap out of you about it. When it started to thunder and lightning, I and many others, made our way to the visitor center. It was humorous to observe guys who moments before were dancing, literally, inches from their death run like scared rabbits when the lightening started.

When I was done and ready to leave, I discovered I did not need to ride back through the park to return to Flagstaff (though I gladly would have). I traveled to the park on route 89 North and entered on what is called the Desert or Tower View side (first view point when you enter from route 89). I left via route 64 East/South that also led back to Flagstaff.

On my way back one of the thunderstorms that had been prowling the area finally caught me. I was riding through the forest at the base of Arizona’s tallest mountain (San Francisco Peak) when the black sky opened up and rained down at a great rate nickel sized droplets of water. Visibility quickly dropped to zero and I had no choice but to pull the bike to the side of the road and sit exposed while lightning crashed down around me (and from cloud to cloud) and massive rain droplets pummeled me and made a great racket in my helmet (which I was glad to have on). Luckily, the worst of the storm passed quickly, and in a few terrifying minutes I was on my way (still in the rain) toward the campground.

I returned to my tent at the campground to find it dry. The storms had all remained north of Flagstaff. It was a beautiful clear and cool night. I toyed with the idea of leaving the rain cover open on the tent (so I could see the stars), but the memory of the nickel sized drops was too fresh. I did not want to wake with those droplets smashing through the thin mesh that would have been my roof had I left the rain cover off.

The campground was crowded, but not annoyingly so. Everywhere I looked there were large groups of people sitting together near RVs or other tent sites. My neighbors noticed I was alone and invited me to dinner. I joined them for a bit and explained the mystery of a middle aged man traveling alone and sleeping in a pup tent; then I excused myself and left to do my laundry. Tomorrow I would begin my trek home.

Hurricane Gustav had chosen the same route through the southwest as my planned path home, and some models showed the newly forming Hanna actually hitting my home on Friday. In the morning I planned to race them.