We got up, as usual, without an alarm clocks and when we felt like it. That’s been fun for the past few weeks. No trains to catch, no appointments and no schedule. After breakfasting on oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon and bagels, we walked to the entrance of the camp to catch the shuttle bus to the visitor’s center, where we walked to the rim.
I have seen the Grand Canyon twice before, from this vantage point. The first time was on a Glee Club trip to Arizona during my senior year, and the second time was the following summer, as Vicki and I took three weeks to get across the country along I-40 to our first duty station in San Diego. The flat plateau falls away with a suddenness that takes my breath away every time. My eyes struggle to take in what it is I am seeing – the dizzying depth to the ribbon of Colorado River peeking up from below, the miles of hazy distance to the higher north rim, the rich tapestry of geological complexity and color in layers and patterns on the weblike maze of sheer and sloped surfaces. And the absence of sound. Because there is nothing to echo sounds back to me. Sheer silence, enfolding me as my eyes resign themselves to comprehending the whole, and follow the graceful flight of a condor, wheeling on the wind seemingly miles below where I stand with others, transfixed.
We take a few pictures, halfheartedly, because we think we should – all the while knowing that nothing, absolutely nothing, will be able to communicate what swallows up the landscape before us to the horizon. I have felt small in the remote parts of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from land, with only the stars for company. This Canyon makes me feel smaller, more reverent, because it allows me to see the wheeling of millennia at a glance, and reveals what I have dumbly called terra firma to be as undulating and as tempestuous as any ocean.
We stumbled our way back to the visitor’s center, where we fell immediately under the spell of “Ranger Ron” as he performed for us the drama of the four things you need to make a Canyon grand. Ron sported a Jeremiah Johnson bush beard, had trained as a pastor in Illinois (he told us afterward), but had ultimately decided to preach geology. And preach he did, waving his arms, flashing his eyes through gold rimmed spectacles, and putting all other pretender canyons (“of something or other”) in their place. We were sad when his 30 minute talk came to a close, and the gathered crowd exploded in applause.
And the four things you need to build this Grand Canyon (not found anywhere else in the world): (1) layered rock; (2) elevated as a plateau, not a mountain which is far more typical; (3) carved deep by a river; all of which occurs in a (4) desert climate, where flash floods can scour the sides of the canyon with tumbling rocks and mud. I got Ron’s autograph in my Junior Ranger booklet, enduring the merciless ribbing from Joy and Eli, after which we were all inspired to grab several books on geology in the bookstore. My favorite was one on the Colorado Plateau, which we have been navigating across for a week now, and which dates back geologically nearly 2 billion years!
We took the shuttle back to the grocery store and got some supplies before walking back to the camper to enjoy lunch and a nap! The wind was whipping hard and Eli and I rolled up the awning after listening to it thrash about (it was tied down, of course). Joy wasn’t feeling so hot, so we left her and Skye in the camper while the rest of us went to the Tusayan Ruins and museum, the remains of an ancient (1400 years ago) pre-Peubloan people who inhabited the canyon area for about three centuries before migrating elsewhere. The ranger there (Pat) gave us a great talk about what you could eat, make, and medicate yourself with using the plants that grew on the rim of the canyon, including the yucca and agave plants (needles, threads, ritual shampoo, ointments and tequila!), juniper trees (baskets, sandals, berries – when ripe – tea to soothe a sore throat, bed lining… and diapers – ouch!) and pines (from which they harvested pine nuts, Scott!). We rubbed sage in our hands and enjoyed the delicious smell, and walked through ruins excavated when the CCC found a bunch of pre-cut rocks to make walkways with.
After supper, I walked Skye-Boy to the rim of the canyon, about 20 minutes north of where we camp. I knew we were too late for the sunset but the canyon was still beautiful in the twilight, and the breeze felt magical as we walked several hundred yards along the profound stillness of the rim. Before we walked back, we sat together on an outcropping of rock high above the canyon floor and watched the moon rise over the canyon rim, an explosion of light that resembled a sunrise – except for the fact that the surrounding Sky did not get the light up memo. We walked back in the gathering darkness, our path lit by the full moon, and enjoyed another good night’s sleep.
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