After our Best Day Ever in the Mojave National Preserve and historic Route 66, we to Arizona. We entered the Grand Canyon National Park with high hopes for more gorgeous vistas. We arrived in the afternoon, and as we entered the park, we noticed a light dusting of snow on the ground and the trees covered in mist. It was actually quite beautiful and like some kind of Christmas card with snow-dusted pines and elk standing in the forest.
As we went up higher, visibility got considerably worse. We stopped at one of the numerous visitor's center, to check out the view, and could see exactly nothing. It was as though the entire Grand Canyon had been filled in by a giant serving of cream-of-mushroom soup. The wind outside whipped through the canyon and chilled us all to the bone.
We checked into the Miswak Lodge and headed to the El Tovar Hotel Dining Room for dinner. We had a wonderful dinner, but even though we were seated near a window that allegedly overlooked the Canyon, we couldn't see a thing. It got dark soon enough, which was a blessing, since looking out at the fog was getting depressing.
On top of that, I had a disturbing phone call from my brother before we lost cell and internet service. My dad had taken a nasty fall off a ladder and broken his back and collar bone. I wanted to rush home, but my brother informed me that there was nothing we could do, so it was best to just carry on with our trip. For the next day or so, we had no internet access and limited phone service, so I couldn't do much besides worry.
The following morning, we checked out of the Miswak Lodge and visited Hopi House. I normally go nuts for Native American pottery, jewelry and knicknacks, but I really was not in the mood to shop, so we decided to try another viewpoint, but no luck. If anything, the fog was worse, only now the snow had melted and left a layer of mud everywhere.
We decided to cut our touring short, and headed toward the park exit. Frank suddenly shouted, "WHOA! WHOA!" and Alex and I thought he was having some kind of seizure or something.
"What was it? Mountain lion? Elk? Mountain lion eating an elk?" I inquired.
"No! I thought I saw the canyon!" he replied.
All I could see were trees, but I did notice that the fog on the road had cleared.
"I think we're below the cloud now," Frank remarked.
We drove about a hundred yards to a scenic overlook, and after blinking a few times, we saw it: The Grand Canyon. Alex and I clapped and shouted. Frank pulled over and we got out to take a few pictures. We didn't know how long this parting of the clouds would last, so we snapped quickly and asked someone to take a photo of the three of us. We were afraid the fog would encroach at any second and we would be out of luck.
The further we descended, the clearer the air got. We pulled into the Watchtower viewpoint, and got a pretty spectacular view of the canyon and the river below. We could look up and see the cloud above, right where we had come from.
The Watchtower is an aptly-named , tall, round, brick building that looks like a lighthouse without a light. It reminded me of a rook from some Cowboys vs. Indians chess set. You can walk up to the top, and one of the rangers told us you could walk up 80 steps to the top. Frank decided to pass on this little adventure, but Alex and I hiked up to the top.
There are actually four levels up, and each level is painted with what looks like Native American petroglyphs or early graffiti. There are some scratched-up windows of varying heights and sizes to view the canyon all around the walls of the circular ediface.
When I finally huffed and puffed my way up to the top of the tower, I caught up with Alex, who was dancing around like he was at Rockettes try-outs or had to go to the bathroom really, really badly. "Look, mom! TA-DA! The Grand Canyon! From high up!"
He was so excited, he was vibrating. He insisted that I take a picture, so I did. I have to admit, despite the scratches on the window pane, the view was pretty spectacular. I think when I was a kid I had a paint-by-numbers set of the Grand Canyon, so the colors and the shapes were familiar to me. No photo or painting could ever capture the intense beauty of the place, and words fail me. You'll just have to go and see it for yourself, hopefully on a sunny day.
Photos: Copyright Glennia Campbell 2010, All Rights Reserved.
