The Grand Canyon

I have a brother named Blake.  He is pragmatic, yet sensitive.  He has an appreciation for the outdoors and the gift of this beautiful world we have been given, but he also has no desire to go anywhere just because "its the place to go" or some tourist guide says it is a wonderful spot to stop.  When I told him he needed to go see the Grand Canyon, he replied with a simple "it sounds nice, but... its basically just a giant hole in the ground".  I mention this because it seems to sum up what a bunch of people think about travel in general.  I know that he and the people I just generalized about would certainly go and enjoy themselves if they found it more convenient, but would not necessarily go out of their way just to do so.

Well, it is just a hole in the ground right?  Mind you it is over a mile deep and a dozen miles wide and has been carved out over a long span of time by the Colorado River and is an exposed history of the earth dating to the Precambrian era, but those are just geek statistics that fascinate amateur geologists and such no?  And heck, even if we can get over the "hole in the ground" concept, the Grand Canyon is pretty much just a grand scale tourist trap right?  It's a cliche destination, something nice and fun to visit and awe over, take some pictures of, and cross out on a bucket list.

Well, truth be told, it is one of the most visited places in the United States, crowded even on slower days, and something that most people have heard of.  Furthermore, it was one of those places that I knew was going to be amazing in scope and grandeur, but it would be just another grand sight that I have already taken in so much of in the wider American West.  After all, by now I had seen two oceans, giant trees, a desert forest of cactus shrouded in mists and rain, and some pretty amazing vistas.  Then I actually experienced it with my own senses.

This particular shot was taken from the outdoor terrace of the lodge on the North Rim of the canyon.  

Nothing can really describe in words how this felt.  No picture could really capture how amazing the experience really was.  I can at least describe the visit.

Mom and I were driving back from California, and it occurred to me that in all the times we have ventured out and back, we had been always passing this landmark but never taking the time to finally meet it in the flesh.  Not knowing when I would make my way back out here again, we decided to take an opportune detour on our way back home after stopping with friends in St. George, Utah.  That visit was pretty much mandated, but we had reason to not want to push the poor car back over the worst spine of the great divide, direct route or no.  So we climbed up out of the Mojave desert's eastern edge and on into Arizona strip country.  Moving through the Sagebrush and tumbleweed open range one expects of the Colorado Plateau's more arid sections, we found ourselves in the usual Juniper and Pinyon forests, then into the Ponderosa Pines, and finally into the 8,000-9,000 foot meadows and aspens and spruces one would think belong more to central Colorado than dusty, hot Arizona.

56 degrees, moist air, and trees were already good enough reasons to come to this place after baking in the sun in the eastern reaches of the Los Angeles basin for two weeks.  The view was amazing, everything I had expected it to be, but then it turned into something more.  I stood on the terrace and felt very insignificant and small.  My jaw hung loosely down and I easily ignored the dummies trying to feed the raven next to me.  My mind became a complete blank.  Then when I came back to reality, my first thoughts were about God and eternity rather than the usual "let's get the camera out!" or "oh look, a chair".

Go to this place.  You might not find religion from it, you might not get what John Muir was saying when he called the natural world "the finest temple to God ever created", and I am not suggesting people come here out of any missionary zeal to promote a new age religion of nature worship.  You might, however, get lost in the immensity, relax in the weird atmosphere of tranquility in the midst of extreme grandeur, or even not be able to get over how you could see for miles and yet barely see anything at all.  You might even understand why we spend tax dollars on keeping places like this open to all.

And if you do plan on visiting, don't pass up an opportunity to visit both rims.

A different angle from the same spot.  The mountain sitting alone on the rim of the horizon (right of center) is near Flagstaff, about 80 miles away.

A view through the trees to the vista beyond.  

A pretty big thunderstorm raining below us directly on the river.


















See you tomorrow for something new!