November 5, 2014

• Grand Canyon

  When Sally told me that she and her sister were going to hike the Grand Canyon, I boldly invited myself to join the party.  My old knees don't allow me to do much downhill hiking but I figured I could entertain myself on the rim while they hiked the eighteen miles down the Kaibab trail and up the Bright Angel Trail.  Besides, I was eager to take my new SUV on a road trip.

  The extended weather forecast looked favorable for our dates but as departure grew near, predicted temperatures dropped from the low seventies to the low forties with rain and wind.  Friday night we were still undecided whether to scratch the mission, and possibly lose the hotel deposit, or just tough it out and make the best of it.  The chance of rain diminished to about 50% as the storm swept north of us and we decided those were good enough odds.

  It was pouring rain as I drove to Sally's house to pick her up but by the time we got up Cajon Pass, things were looking up.  The horizon was decorated with lovely cumulus clouds and the desert was green with opportunistic vegetation.  Highway 40 has to be one of the most scenic in the country and it's certainly the least traveled in California.  Speed limits are high in Arizona, and gas is cheap.  I set the cruise control at 80 and the Lexus powered through that fossil fuel like a Labrador Retriever at the feed bowl.

  We arrived at the canyon just before dark.  Sally and Lynn proceeded to settle in to our modest hotel room at the Maswik Lodge.Here Lynn is sorting through the hurriedly packed bags, selecting the items she will need for the early morning hike.

  We met Glen, a co-worker of Lynn's, for dinner at the Bright Angel Cafe for a mediocre meal and then retired for the evening.  Glen, who has done this hike several times suggested that we be at the trailhead before dawn but as it was raining when we awoke, nobody was very enthusiastic about hitting the trail in the dark.  Everybody finally managed to get their gear together and I drove them to the South Kaibab trailhead just as it was getting light.

  

  The canyon brooded silently in the light snow fall.

  

  It was with mixed emotions that I waved good-bye as they dropped from view.

  

  On one hand, I wished I could hike with them but on the other cold hand, I was happy to get back into the warm car and drive to the lodge for breakfast.

  Not having appreciated the lesson of the previous meal, I returned to the Bright Angel Lodge Cafe where I ordered a scrambled egg and a multi-grain pancake.  The first bite of pancake stuck to the roof of my mouth like Wonder bread and the eggs were as hard as marbles.  I made a feeble attempt to force some of it down, incredulous that anyone could screw up something as simple as this meal, but there was no amount of whipped butter that could make this sticky mess slide down.  The Brooklynese waitress noted my barely touched meal and asked if it was not good.  Loathe to appear the food snob that I am, I made some vague motions to indicate that it was alright.  She solicitously asked if she couldn't bring me something else, some cream of wheat she suggested, or perhaps some fruit?  I politely declined.  I heard her tell the other waiter with sincere concern, "She barely ate anything!"  For her tenderness, I left a generous tip.

  I wandered along the rim, and found a book shop.  I've never met a book shop that I could ignore so I popped in to peruse their selection of Grand Canyon related books.  Lo and behold they had a paperback copy of Marguerite Henry's Brighty of the Grand Canyon, one of my childhood favorites.  On a whim, I bought a copy.

  Remembering how elegant the El Tovar had seemed when I first visited in 1964 with my parents, I decided to revisit.  The dining room was open and the hostess assured me that the food would meet my greatest expectations.  I was seated at a table on an elevated section of the dining room which afforded an excellent view of the canyon and of the people seated below directly in front of the window.  I ordered conservatively, cinnamon-raisin French toast (the waiter from Mississippi claimed the bread was made on the premises) and pulled out my new book to wait for my meal.  The conversation at the table below caught my attention as a little girl articulately asked the waiter if she could please have the polenta pancake with prickly pear infused/pistachio encrusted butter on the side.  She politely refrained from suggesting that she might not like the unusual butter but one could infer that she was being cautious.  I was captivated by her inquisitive interaction with what appeared to be her grandparents and parents.  The topic of the Grand Canyon mules came up and she asked what the difference was between a donkey and a mule.  Since nobody at the table admitted to knowing (quite unlikely as the grandparents were obviously from the South) she proceeded to query Siri via her electronic device.  By the time I'd finished eating, I'd decided that this precocious little one must have my book.

  I walked over and explained that this had been my favorite book when I was her age and that I would like her to have it.  She said that she could read "chapter books" now and would like to read it.  Her initial look of surprise turned to wonder and then delight as she politely thanked me for the unexpected gift.

  I had intended to wait until Sally, Lynn, and Glenn would be coming up the trail to head down to meet them but as the weather warmed, the trail beckoned and I just couldn't wait.  I had already logged about two miles exploring the village environs and didn't want to squander any more energy so I changed into my hiking shoes and started down the Bright Angel Trail.

  

  The trail was so well populated that I almost grew weary of greeting other hikers that I met or passed on the way down.  Trails of this sort attract a wide range of people, from the very serious hiker (like Sally) to the overweight couple who just stepped off the train from Williams in their dress shoes.  My eyes must have visibly widened when I met a middle-aged couple, she with immaculate make-up and Dolly Parton hair and wearing expensive fashion boots, he following with her real animal fur coat draped over his arm.

  

  This sign, posted on the restroom door at the mile and a half rest stop persuaded me to immediately sign up the the GC Search and rescue team.  I suppose I'll have to do some training first.

  

  This is my first attempt at taking a selfie.  I rather like it.

  

  But seriously...

  

  And no visit to GC would be complete without a visit to the mule barn for this wrangler.

  

  When I visited the canyon with my first husband in the 1970s, he took a picture of me similarly posed.

  

  The journey home was rather longer than the trip out as is common for road trips.  We stopped along the road almost once every hour or so to limber up overused muscles and relieve bladders that were working overtime to rehydrate bodies pushed to their limits.

   

   

   

  • 7:55 am
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