The Grand Canyon

I’m not sure how to talk about Grand Canyon. I don’t know how to convey in words something so large and beautiful and terrifying (even with the railings, we were all a bit nervous getting out toward the edge). We read about how it came to develop and we saw it from a wide range of viewing areas. We looked down and out and across, and we wondered what we’d have done a few hundred years ago if we’d have ridden up on our horse to one side of the canyon wanting to get to the other. “Jump, Trigger, Jump!” just wouldn’t cut it. And we heard people speaking languages from across Asia and Europe and New England expressing awe at what they were seeing. (How do you say, “Wow!” in Japanese or French or German or Spanish?) And we worked with the kids on earning their “Junior Ranger” badges, learning something about the canyon, the rock, the history, and the wildlife. But in the end, we’re just like everyone else who visits the Grand Canyon then is stuck trying to share what they’ve seen. “Wow! It’s amazing!” And there you have it.

It’s also clear that you can’t capture it in pictures either. But that doesn’t stop us from trying, especially in this era of digital-cameras. Everywhere Nan and I would stop (to shoot the same pictures) a dozen other people would have their cameras pointing in the same direction taking the same pictures. And so have millions of others across the years. Some have tripods under giant cameras attached to 18-inch long lenses with polarizing filters and extended hoods to block the sun’s glare. Others held up cell phones or cameras so small you could put four of them in the same pocket. Some took great time and care with each shot, while others just whipped the camera out and fired away. At one point I told Nan that we should all just skip taking our own pictures; they should have a set of pictures available at the visitor’s center and we should each pick our favorites on the way out. She said, “I think they call those ‘postcards.’” Good point. Then we agreed that we all want to take our own pictures hoping for a miracle shot—and because we want evidence that we had been there ourselves.

I’m sure Nan and I will both be posting pictures that look alike, as will everyone else who was there at the same time we were… But so it goes. WE were THERE! The weather was beautiful though a little bit hazy and the crowds were thin. We’ve heard that if you come during the summer you often have to stand and wait for a space at the best viewing areas because the crowds are so large. That was definitely not the case for us. Plenty of people, but no lines even as sunset approached. We attended an interesting ranger presentation on California condors and found only about 15-20 others there with us (rather than what I’m sure is a huge crowd on the weekend during nice weather). And the kids had a fine time tromping around in the snow and occasionally peeking or throwing snowballs over the edge. Like most parents we were afraid to let them get too close, but in truth, we’re both clumsier and dizzier than they are, so there was probably more risk that we’d stumble and clod-hop our way into the abyss than that they would.

The little town of Williams, AZ, where we’re staying is one of my favorites so far. Nan has said she would like to live in about 80% of the places we’ve visited, but I’ve only seen a few that inspired me to price the real estate—and this is one of them. We hiked the historic downtown area (this used to be a Route 66 town) yesterday, and later we visited a nice little park on a beautiful lake just a few miles outside of town. There are parades and events and four distinct seasons and horses and a train that blows through during the day and at night to remind you there’s a world out there somewhere. And I’m sure there are tourists galore during the spring, summer, and fall leaving their dollars behind to support the shops and motels and restaurants. All this right at the foot of the mountains and 50 miles from the Grand Canyon. What’s not to love?

Anyway, we were here! And now…California, here we come.