Day 21 – Sunday, August 9 (Drive from Grand Canyon to Santa Fe, NM - via Petrified Forest NP)

Vicki and I got up early this travel morning in order to watch the sunrise over the Grand Canyon. We got up quickly and dressed in the chilly pre-dawn at 5:15 to get to the overlook nearest us before the 5:40 sunrise. Several dozen people had already gathered at the overlook we chose, and we were both struck by the religious quality of the quiet that pervaded the gathering of people from many different nations who had come to watch the dawning of a new day. The moment the sun ignited the canyon rim to the east of us, everyone voiced an involuntary “ahh!” that transcended all of our language differences.

We felt we did not miss worship this day – and Vicki texted Ruthann, who would be preaching at Skyline soon, three hours ahead of us in the east, to assure her of our prayers and to tell her about the worship we had been involved in before the sunrise, as strangers assisted each other taking photographs of families and couples, accompanied with expressions of gratitude in many languages. We walked thoughtfully back to the van and drove back to coffee, breakfast and packing up to go.

After letting the kids sleep in a little, we pulled away from site J-66 at 9:45, driving south 50 miles to I-40, where we turned east for the final week-long leg that will take us home. We have much enjoyed the fantastic sights this trip, but we will be grateful to return home to friends and familiar places and patterns of our lives. By the end of the day, we will have traveled 3800 miles, not including another 1100 miles while sightseeing. And we will have another 2000 miles to go.

Today’s trip is a bit longer because of the lack of AC as we cross the desert in 95 degree heat. On the bright side, we are driving much of the old historic Route 66, and we play oldies above the roar of the wind with the windows rolled down in order to get into the spirit of America’s Highway. When we pulled off of I-40 at Holbrook, AZ, to make a side trip through the Petrified Forest National Park, we passed the Wigwam Motel (with rooms in the shape of teepees) and went nuts laughing and trying to get a picture.

The Petrified Forest was fascinating, if hot. Joy looked after Skye while we strolled through 200 million year old trees that had been gsathered by an ancient river and turned to quartz when they were covered with sediment and volcanic ash, and then broke apart and exposed in the uplifting of the Colorado Plateau beginning 60 million years ago. We also stopped to see 1200 year old petroglyphs in an area dubbed “newspaper rock” because there were so many of them. Then we drove through the painted desert before resuming our trip east on long, flat I-40.

We arrived at our campsite outside of Santa Fe just before the office closed, and set up in a record 15 minutes in order to get to an area restaurant called Harry’s Road House that served up some wonderful Mexican food. We watched the moon rise on the short drive to our new home for the next 36 hours, and made some online updates for the first time since Moab, thanks to the WiFi at the campsite.

Day 20 – Saturday, August 8 (Grand Canyon 3)

We all got up whenever and enjoyed a lazy morning of reading and steel cut oatmeal before saddling up for a hike into the canyon on the Kaibab Trail, 1.5 miles down and 1.5 miles back up. Joy stayed back reading because she wasn’t feeling too well. Skye hung out with her because dogs aren’t allowed below the rim. We each took a pair of liter bottles of water with us, some trail mix and granola bars, as each of the trails posts a sad story at the trailhead about a 24 year old Boston marathoner who died on one of the longer trails because she and her friend neglected to take enough water and separated when they got in trouble.

We took the shuttle because they don’t allow cars to drive to the trailhead, and stepped off around noon. The views were spectacular, except for the panting, gasping refugees who straggled up the trail as we strolled down. We exchanged no words but their eyes told a weary tale. Along the way, we stopped every 15 minutes for water and tried to limit our picture taking lollygagging. Okay, I tried to limit it (as the chief picture taking lollygagger). We passed work crews from the Civilian Conservation Corps busting up rocks and working on the trail.

The breeze felt good, as most of the trail was fully exposed to the sun. it was hotter below the rim, but only about 85 when we reached our destination a mile and a half below the rim, a place called Cedar Ridge that offered unobstructed views on all sides. It took us about 45 minutes. We sat down under a shrub/tree and fought off the shameless begging squirrels while we snacked, before walking out to the end of the point of land that offered a panoramic view of the canyon. After taking a bunch of pictures and taking in the view, we saddled up and started the 1140 foot climb back to the trailhead and shuttle stop.

We took lots of pictures and rested every 15 minutes, so the climb back wasn’t as horrible as the gloomy looks on the hikers’ faces had suggested. We saw trees and plants growing out of cracks in the rocks, and passed streaks and layers in rocks formed tens of millions of years ago, when the Colorado Plateau was an ancient seabed and seashore. On we climbed and skipped the last rest stop when we could see the trailhead, which took us just over an hour to reach. We resisted the urge to celebrate with high fives all around with the other hikers, and simple climbed back into the shuttle for the ride home to a shower and nap!

Later in the afternoon, we hit the grocery store for snacks for our road trip tomorrow. The AC is not working in the truck again, so the 500 mile trip to Santa Fe might be hot and windy. Who knows? Maybe the dye they put in the coolant in Moab will help the next repair tech actually locate the leak in our system. If that’s all that fails mechanically this trip, we will count ourselves blessed.

After supper, we took the shuttle to the Bright Angel Lodge and hiked a half mile to the trailview overlook to take some pictures of the canyon as the sun set on our last evening here. The crowds made it feel a little like we were back at DisneyWorld, but once we got away from the bus stop to Hopi Point, we had to share the trail only with straggling pairs of young lovers drinking in the ebbing light of the day. After we got back to the trailer, we looked at the pictures we have taken for the past three weeks and went to bed.

Day 19 – Friday, August 7 (Grand Canyon 2)

We awakened to a slow and sleepy morning. I enjoyed coffee and the last of an Agatha Christie novel (and a couple of blog entries, even though I won’t be able to upload them until later). The night got down to 55, but we are all toasty in our bags and glad not to have to deal with the fires of hell in the desert. After everyone got moving, we enjoyed a big breakfast of bacon and pancakes before gearing up for a hike along the rim trail, one of the few places in any National Park that we could take Skye-Boy along with us.

We hiked a mile from the trailer to get to the rim trail and then another seven miles along the trail to Hopi Point and back to the bus stop at the Bright Angel Lodge. At first, we had to weave our way through throngs of people who had driven to the viewpoints, but gradually the crowds thinned out, and we shared the trail with few others who were making their way along the paved trail that followed the south rim for 12 miles or so.

All along the way, we couldn’t take our eyes from the vast expanse that opened up below us. At times, the trail would veer away from the canyon, but often, we skirted the precarious edge of sheer cliffs down into seeming oblivion. Every step of the way screamed for a picture, but we knew that no picture could hope to communicate even a tiny percentage of what we were witnessing. So we walked on, past brass tabs embedded in the asphalt every yard that represented a million years of time in the history of the Colorado Plateau.

After threading our way to a couple of breathtaking overlooks, we emerged into a midway that ran beside the Bright Angel Lodge (and visitor’s center, souvenir shops, and restaurants). The pathway widened for the swell of people, many of whom oooh’ed and ahh’ed over Skye. After we squeezed through the crowds licking their ice cream cones and snapping pictures of the canyon, and passed the famous photographer’s studio built onto the side of the canyon, the trail steepened for a bit before leading us to a series of majestic overlooks, the last of which was Hopi Point, extending into the canyon and offering a panoramic view that left us all awed and reverent.

Well… some of us were reverent. Joy is getting more than a little tired of my “these rocks tell a timeless story…” riff whenever we get near the canyon. She insisted on filming a spoof of my standard geology lecture at Hopi point. With six and a half miles under our belts and another three and a half to go, I decided to humor her. Other than a couple of kids trying to kidnap Skye-Boy, the stop at the last overlook was uneventful.

We backtracked the last mile and a half to the bus stop, where Vicki, Joy and Eli rode the shuttle back to the campsite. They don’t allow dogs and Dads on the buses, so Skye and I walked another 2 miles back to the trailer. Everyone took a nap and chilled out before supper.

The fridge decided to stop working, so we got more ice for the cooler. After five years, the trailer has held up very well, and I have no doubt that we will be able to repair the fridge when we get home. After cleaning up for supper, we drove about 10 miles south of the park to a little tourist trap called Tusayan to see an IMAX movie about the canyon. It gave us a chance to fly through the canyon and to take a virtual whitewater rafting trip along the Colorado. We drove home and crashed.

Day 18 – Thursday, August 6 (Grand Canyon 1)

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.