Wow! We've always referred to this trip as "the Grand Canyon trip" and now, here we are. I'll break with tradition as I did the other evening and to this story in something other than chronological order.
We arrived at the North Rim about 2:30 PDT. At 2:15 it was still nice and sunny, but a cool 54 degrees as we drove south toward the mega-ditch. Check in was smooth except by then the clouds had rolled in and literally as I was being briefed on the rules by the ranger at the check in desk it started to rain and thunder. Fortunately, she didn't say "It never does this here" or I would have been forced to trump her ace with "It does this 100% of the time we are here". We drove the 1/4 mile to our campsite and as I was getting out to settle the rig into the spot it started to sleet. I kid you not. That stopped as soon as I was done unhitching and the sun actually came out. We got in the trailer, watered the dogs. Got ourselves a drink to wash down the road dust and relaxed for about 15 minutes. Then Mrs. C' said "Are we going to see the Canyon, or not?" I'm not a person who is known to turn down the chance to see a good canyon, so I replied "Yes" and in 5 minutes we were in the truck and driving the mile to the North Rim Visitors Center from which Bright Angel Trail leads to what is billed as the premier viewing spot for the Canyon on the entire North Rim - Bright Angel Point. We walked 10 or 15 minutes to the Point. The views were amazing and getting better with every step then we were at the point. Let me show you what it looks like:
Amazing, right? The Grand Canyon is as splendid, unique, magnificent, inspiring and... well... grand as it has been described. It is clear that even from this premier viewing location that the totality of its magnificence can not be comprehended, let alone appreciated. Now what? Within an hour of arriving for our three night stay at the point for which the entire eight week trip had been named it was clear to me (and I believe to Mrs. C') that we achieved our goal. As mere mortals we will never be able to take in the totality of the canyon but in one viewing we understood its essence. At this point in our Grand Canyon experience, I am not sure how I will answer the question "How did you like the Grand Canyon?". It's like asking someone, "So, how do you feel about the universe?". I think I understand why people returning from here say things like "It's awesome" or "I was overwhelmed and inspired."
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not disappointed with the Grand Canyon. Not at all. It's inspiring, awesome and overwhelming (oops... now I'm doing it). I'll probably go back to Bright Angel at daybreak to try and get some pics in proper, low intensity, back light (the kind that comes over your shoulder and warms the scenery while adding contrast and shadow) as opposed to the glare of high altitude pics looking west in the afternoon with the dust and humidity harshly illuminated. But then what?
Maybe we'll take a few of the innumerable side trips to see the Canyon from some of the almost premier spots along the North Rim. Will they look different than what we saw at Bright Angel? I don't know. Will we come closer to understanding the totality of the Canyon as a result? I don't know. Is it even possible to understand the Canyon? I don't know. Well give it a try tomorrow, then on Wednesday we'll either conclude we're making progress or we'll skip the third day and split for Vegas, baby!
So that's the inscrutable Grand Canyon on first impression. Vast? Certainly. Complex? Maybe. Unique? Absolutely. Oh, and it's absolutely deadly. 1 in 400,000 visitors dies here. Sure, some deaths are from heart attacks, plane crashes, heat stroke and other causes that could happen on a visit to... oh... let's see... Vegas, maybe. But some are from that most unique Grand Canyon risk... accidental falls of hundreds or thousands of feet which (based on the article I just read) happen most often when someone finds a spot where they can appear to fall and fool scare their family and friends, but actually do fall and scare them even more. I'm thinking that some of those heart attack deaths here are probably caused by the fake falling attempts that go right.
Since I told the end of today's story first, let me rewind to the beginning. We starts the day as we ended it, on the Colorado River, but on Lake Powell. I got up before the sun, drove to a spot I had not been, clambered on some rocks to get closer to the water for the sunrise. When I got to the end of the rocks I was still about 50 feet above the water level. It hit me "these folks are ready to hold some serious water in this lake!" The sunrise didn't disappoint. The light was warm and soft like a hand cut biscuit right from the oven. Here is a shot:
From there I decided to go to the marina where I knew I could get close to the water (duh! It's a m-a-r-I-n-a). I saw a bunch of trucks parked near the top of the boat launch, each with an empty boat trailer attached. This is a familiar site near home in Florida too, except here it meant people were spending the night on the water. I parked with them then starts the walk down the boat ramp toward a floating dock on the lake. The first thing I noticed was the width of the ramp. It was easily 200' wide. It had lane markings painted on it like an interstate. There were eight very wide lanes. The second thing I noticed was its length. It was 1/4 mile or more long. I was about half way down it when I realized there was nobody there, I had to walk the other half down, then the whole distance up. Why not, I said to myself, walk back up and drive down? I did. At the top I checked my GPS altimeter. I checked again at the bottom. 175 vertical feet. I was amazed. Here's a pic of the truck at the bottom taken from the floating dock to give you a sense of how big this thing is.
Now, I think I'm pretty good at backing a trailer. After all, the Silver Cliche' herself has NT a scratch on her despite being backed up almost every day we camp. However, if the fishermen of Lake Powell back their boat trailers down a 1/4 mile boat launch while staying in lanes they have me beaten. Of course. They may just do what I did... drive down forward and do a "U" turn. Oh... and by the time I had walked, driven, gotten out and walked down the dock the sun was behind the clouds. Back I went to the trailer and Mrs. C' and I had a pancake breakfast with all the hot coffee we could drink.
We left at 10:00 with the comfort that our campsite (which had "full hook ups that work") allowed us to pull out and hit the road with no stop at the dump station.we headed south, then north, then south again, all because that's what the roads had to do to work around the terrain. Here are some shots including our lunch spot at the base of the Vermillion Cliffs in Marble Canyon, Arizona. I should note that the cliffs went on for about 30 miles. They were tall, red stone cliffs that had been shedding chunks the size of... well... Airstreams. Those chunks were along the road in many places. Fortunately, all the ones we saw today were on the side of the road and motionless.
So, that's the story of how we came to the Grand Canyon from Lake Powell. I feel tonight like the dozen or so Americans who walked on the moon mite have felt. Getting to the Grand Canyon was the culmination of lots of planning and execution. Mission accomplished. Now I'm here and I realize I can never understand or comprehend it all. They took a few rocks and headed home. Maybe we'll take a few pictures and start our return trip (albeit, we have many stops to make along the way starting with Zion National Park, Utah in a few days).
Later
SC'
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