ZION BRYCE GRAND CANYON DAY 7 – THE ELUSIVE IMAGE

"There will never be a photograph of the Grand Canyon that can adequately describe its depth, breadth, and true beauty."  Stefanie Payne

“But we’re damn sure gonna try”  Pasquale Onofrio

We’re out early and headed into the park.  The Grand Canyon is an “upside down” park.  At Zion, we did traditional hiking, start at the floor of the valley and climb up the mountain.  Here everything starts at the top and goes downhill from there, so strategy is different.  Today’s plan is Bright Angel Trail, a steep trek into the canyon that has been walked by Native Americans, pioneers, early miners, and many of our parents and grandparents.  We’re covering a 6 mile out-and-back, down-then-up that will drop us over 2000 feet below the rim.  The early fall forecast is saying hot-n-sunny, and as the air sinks into the lower elevations it gets compressed, releasing heat as energy, so it will be 20-30 degrees hotter at the bottom.  Hence we’re up and out at zero-dark-thirty.  First light is beautiful, haze in the valley, the moon hanging low in the cloudless blue sky. 

The trail is serious, as emphasized by the stern warning signs provided by the National Park Service.  It’s very easy overestimate your conditioning and overextend on the way in, then underestimate the weather conditions and your provisions on the way back up.  Along the way, several signs remind you that “down is optional, up is mandatory.”  The fun of being our age is that we know good advice when we hear it, so even though our goal is the 3-Mile Resthouse and back, we’re OK turning around at any point if things get too hairy. 

We’re barely through the first set of switchbacks when out of nowhere a male Bighorn Mountain Sheep – 1 of 2 just rams in the area – strolls by us, just a fellow hiker passing on the trail close enough to high five. 

It’s quiet on the way down, despite being a busy Saturday.  It’s really nice to feel like you have the place to yourself on a trail, even if just for 15 minutes.  We take pictures as the light changes, shadows forced back, giving way to deep colors.  We get through the two “tunnels”, doorways in the rock really, and to the 1.5 Mile Resthouse relatively easily, so after a quick break we decide to push on. 

Sure, gravity does most of the hard work this way, but it’s taking a toll on our knees, so we step carefully, looking for grades rather than tall steps.  We’re at the 3-Mile Resthouse, feel good and discuss pushing on to Indian Garden another mile-and-a-half away and another 2000 feet down.  Common sense (and the damned effective picture of the puking dude on that sign) kicks in and we start our way back.  500 feet up, and we’re winded already.  The sun, on the way down our photo buddy, is now a giant looming rival in our (admittedly slow) footrace back to the top before we’re caught in the punishing direct rays. 

It’s the most difficult ascent we have attempted on this trip, and we conjure some of our tried-and-true strategies.  We break our remaining journey into “units”, fifteen-minute segments that we count down.  “Seven units left.”  We pace, we breathe the thin air, break for a few sips of water and carry on.  “Six units left, we got this!”  We take stock of our weary selves.  Head ok.  Neck, arms, shoulders, check, check, check.  Back, bit tired from the pack, but not bad.  Knees, bit sore, so watch.  Ankles and feet, surprisingly OK.  “Five units left.”  And there are still some great pictures to be had.  

Around 8:45 we pass a donkey train headed down, cowgirl guide in the front, visitors in the middle, cowboy guide in the back, everyone smiling, chatty.  Maybe the Brady’s were right.  Maybe we’re doing this wrong.

At 9am we’re in full sun, the rim and nearby peaks no longer providing any hiding places.  We’re splitting our last bottle of water, and can see the goal line.  Unfortunately, it’s just past that last steep set of switchbacks. 

We make the top with a big sigh and great feeling of accomplishment.  Although this is the most popular National Park in the country, less than five percent of the six-and-a-half million annual visitors venture below the rim.  We take pride in the fact that at 55 (and Mandy’s advanced age of three days older than me!) we’re still up for some rewarding challenges.

Beeline to the room to shower the dust and salt off, then out to lunch.  Another not-a-foodie town and none of the restaurants near the hotel offer anything inspiring.  Back in the park we go to the Yavapai Tavern for the Melted Elk, a well dressed elk burger, Baja Chicken Enchilada Soup and some good local beer.  It’s as nice a menu as we have ever seen inside a National Park, and it’s a very well done upgrade from the old 1970s cafeterias. 

Despite having hiked 6 miles this morning, we have seen just a fraction of a fraction the Canyon.  One of the best features of the park is the accessibility.  There are dozens of great viewpoints just a few steps from your parked car, and that’s about all that’s left in our tank today.  Driving to the first spot, we stop to visit with a pair of young elk, a cow and a young bull that still has velvet on his antlers.  Just a mile up the road is daddy, majestic, right out of the Hartford commercial, although this has turned into more of a Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom episode.  We lean in, whispering and trying different angles, trying to make Marlin Perkins proud of our work.

We finally make Lipan Point, almost to the East Entrance.  It’s the best view of the canyon yet, but we’re still surprised that we see so little of the Colorado river.  The river is at the bottom of a narrow V inside of a much wider V, so seeing the fast moving water is akin to finding Waldo.  We stop at several more vantage points, each time unable to fully understand at the sheer breadth of all we are seeing, each time realizing how little of it we will ever see, each time trying for that elusive photograph that captures even what our own live experience cannot.

Jump cut to dinner.  Big E Steakhouse & Saloon, Grand Canyon, Arizona.  Middle Americana at it’s middle of the road truest.  My T-Bone sports an embossed stick to let me know it’s prepared to the perfect medium rare as ordered, the Dark Horse Central Coast Cab just the right compliment to both my beef and Mandy’s poultry.