Grand Canyon Passage
Every so often, Tricia and I get it in our minds to go somewhere. It's nothing too thought out or planned out. I have a list of things I gotta do, not on paper, more like in my head, but these trips are usually a way to cross items off of this.
Anyway, last time it was Hawaii. The big island—jungle hikes down to secret snorkel spots and roasting on the beach. This time, the Grand Canyon. You go there like going on a pilgrimage, looking down into the pit and contemplating it solitarily—kinda like staring into a pile of burning embers. But the thing is, seeing it from the rim is a whole lot like just looking at the photo. There's a haze in the distance between you and it, and you are very, very far away.
So, we climbed down to the bottom, stuck our feet in the cold-ass Colorado River (just like John Wesley Powell did, I'm sure). Then we hoofed it back up. Even a mile down the trail, we both agreed that this was the only way see the canyon. You get a sense of perspective, inspecting layers of rock first-hand as you stumble past them and feeling like an insignificant spec as you sneak by looming cliffs wearing the stains of the ages.
It was an amazing trip, kinda cosmic. In fact, the Grand Canyon is a cosmic place—where us non-"devout" folks go to appreciate the mysteries of the universe.
Sure, I'ma nerd. But I'm about to hike 4,500 feet down and back up again in two days. I could barely walk for days. So sore.
Yeah, take the burrows, you pussies. We're gonna walk.
A new set of thunderheads rolled through every hour ... we could see 'em coming.
Down, down, down, keep going down.
At last, the Colorado River, and a quiet beach to rest our weary selves.
But what't this? A thunder-hail extravaganza on the way back up? A good excuse to sit the fuck down.
We camped out half way up the canyon. The next morning, after torrential rains in the night, the chasm was shrouded in cloud.
And it was time to climb out. Yeah, all the way to the tippy top of that cliff up there.
Sedona sunset later that evening, dog tired and readier for a cocktail than I've ever been in my life.
Dirty, tired, sore—but we made it. Yep.