…that ends well. Whether that be a truncated trip or an agonizing climb up a canyon.
Looking back at the end of the day, you (or maybe just I) say, well, that wasn’t so bad. That worked out.
And there ends the Helpful Mini Homily on the day’s events. I would like to declare this a No Encouragement/No Inspiration Zone, thanks.
As I told you, we arrived at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon just at sunset, and it was glorious.
My hope for Saturday morning was to achieve one of the very, very few goals I have in life – which is to actually see the Milky Way. Some of you probably see it all the time. But I’ve never seen it, arrayed across the sky, and every time this city gal heads to a national park, she harbors the hope that this time she’ll figure it out and be able to see it.
I’d read that Mather Point, the place from which we watched the Sunset, would give me a good chance – if we got there an hour and a half or so before sunrise. Well, I don’t know if it’s because we only made it an hour early, but yeah, it’s still on my bucket list.
It was pretty though, not only the sunrise itself, all pastel blue, yellow and pink to the east, but the play of colors and the gradual emergence of the canyon walls from the dark.
Even on this Saturday in February, we weren’t alone. There were, of course, the photographers, a few hardy star and sun-gazers, and then, the Squad tumbling in, a large crew of young women, all wrapped in their blankets, loudly reminding each other of how drunk they were. America’s national parks are the place where, like the Catholic Church, here comes everybody – and it really just adds to the experience, and I’m not kidding.
We did a very nice breakfast at the historic El Tovar hotel, with a wonderful view that for a time included deer. The waitress told us that an elk had been by earlier.
Back to the room for a bit, with decisions to make, considering we were checking out at 11, and it was still pretty cold outside. Seemed to call for activity that would balance out outdoor time with periods of warming-up in the car. A drive down Hermit’s Road was the thing.
The Grand Canyon, like the rest of the national parks out west, has a well-run shuttle system designed to cut car traffic in the park and actually make the experience more enjoyable for visitors. The shuttles run constantly enable those who aren’t hikers to see a lot, those who want to hike or bike – but not the whole distance – to jump on and off when they want.
Hermit’s Road was an important early tourist route in the Grand Canyon, and most of the year it’s closed to personal vehicles, but not in the winter, when the shuttle doesn’t run. So we were able to do the drive, along with very few others – coming to the Grand Canyon in the winter is a trade-off. Of course, it’s cold and windy, but there are so fewer people, it’s probably quite unrepresentative of the typical experience.
Hermit’s Rest is the endpoint of the road – and the history of the area is interesting. The most popular trail in the Grand Canyon is the Bright Angel Trail – used by indigenous peoples for centuries to go in and out of the canyon, and then quickly developed for tourists in the late 19th century – and then just as quickly taken over by a single concessionaire who charged fees and controlled access. It took years for the park service to straighten that out and incorporate Bright Angel into the rest of the park, and in the meantime, an enterprising fellow developed trails down off Hermit’s Road. In addition, the trip from the hotels to this endpoint became a popular one, with visitors ending their trek at the Mary-Colter designed Hermit’s Rest.
So, lots of wonderful, different viewpoints, and a bit of history.
The only disappointment of our short trip came with our attempt to go to the small, but much-praised Yavapai Geology Museum – another historic structure from the early days of the park which houses, right there on the rim, a good (apparently) explanation of the geology of the canyon, complete with a large relief map.
So we drive up, walk inside, and…almost every display was covered up by black plastic. “Um, there are some pamphlets and booklets on the window there that you’re free to take,” said the guy at the door, obviously knowing how lame the situation was. It was just stupid. Beyond belief. Covid isn’t transmitted by touch, the data shows, and so I assume what was happening was an attempt to discourage people from gathering too close together as they looked at maps and displays. It was almost insulting. They should just close it, as most national park visitor’s centers have been, until they determine the risk is over.
Anyway.
Then I gave in. Okay, I said. We’ll do one of the trails into the canyon. Not that I was resisting. I’m in decent shape (hahahaha) and enjoy walking about outdoors, obviously. But…it’s daunting. There are (justified) warnings all over the place – it takes twice as long to walk back up as it does to walk down, etc. I really had a difficult time when we did Celaque National Park in Honduras in 2019. I didn’t want to have a difficult time, but it’s increasingly clear that walking on flat landscapes isn’t what I need to be doing to increase my stamina in this regard. I need to go up. That, ironically, is my downfall every time. Up.
I won’t bore you with all the details of hiking in and out of the Grand Canyon. Some of you have perhaps done it. It’s a goal, that’s for sure, and there are a number of ways you can do it, in one day or overnighting, either camping or at the Phantom Ranch. Of course you can also do mules!
What we managed was just a fraction – we got to the 1.5 mile rest stop and then decided to head back up. I will say, though, as hellish as it was coming back up at times (for me), even with my slower pace, it didn’t take us twice as long to return as to go down. I would say we spent an hour going down and it took us 90 minutes to get back up.
And yes, the trail was snowy. I had trekking poles, but we noticed that most of the *serious* folks had microclamps on their shoes – that would make it a lot easier. But then, I didn’t know the trail would be snowy most of the way down, either. It really wasn’t bad, though.
After this, our goal was, first, food – at a decent Mexican restaurant in Tusayan, the little tourist center outside the park – and then to make it to our next destination in time for Mass. And what was that destination?
Well, on our way, my son asked if I had a music request.
“Play Take it Easy by the Eagles.”
“What?” He knows that while I like the Eagles okay, I also don’t have a need to actively choose to listen to them after forty-five years of exposure.
“Just do it, and listen to the lyrics.”
Oh….
Yes, we made it to Mass, in the lovely St. Joseph’s church. I forgot to take a photo, but you can see the interior here. A good homily, a wedding convalidation – we have a tendency to run into weddings during Mass when traveling, as we did in Honduras – a Covid-influenced way of Communion distribution that confused me so much that I ended up just staying in my seat – and so it was spiritual communion this week for us, which is fine and a good prayer in its own right.
Then to our hotel – the amazing La Posada – really, the definition of a destination hotel. Originally a Fred Harvey hotel, designed by Mary Colter – you can read its history here – it has been revived and made into a fascinating, quirky showpiece. And it seems to be working – here in the dusty town of Winslow, once something in the age of Route 66, now..not much – the hotel seemed to be almost full.
Today….onward!
Charlotte was Both 