Day 2 and 3 - North Rim: A Job Well Done and Exodus: A Long Road to Cleanliness

North Rim: A Job Well Done

St. George Retrospective:

Woke up at eight in the morning; I felt rested and ready. Fed the dogs and Marissa and I walked 30 ft through the lobby to the free continental breakfast. It seems as though not many made the breakfast hour, so we had our run of the lush spread: a little toasted bagel and cream cheese, three glasses of OJ, a hard boiled egg while waiting for said bagel to toast, two mini chocolate chip muffins, and an apple. We sat and dined in an air conditioned haven; at eight a.m. the temperature was already quickly rising. While throwing away trash I snagged hot cocoa for the road. Marissa decided to pilfer two apples, some instant oatmeal, and utensils. We escaped back to our pad.

After loading the car I schemed on how to get the dogs to the car. Hiren, the manager at the helm, decided to give us a room in which his office window peered directly at our front door. I plotted, I waited, and I moved. "Okay", I prophesized. "I will walk Flow to the car now, wait 40 seconds after you hear the car door shut, and then walk Chops to the car. This should give me enough time to get Hiren out of his little Peeping Tom room.” The first phase went swimmingly: Flow was in the car and I jetted to the lobby to beckon the almighty Hiren. When I arrived in the A/C oasis of a lobby, Hiren was at the continental spread stuffing his face. I dropped the key on the counter, skedaddled back to the room, grabbed Marissa and Chops and we steam boated out of there. Presumably Hiren only needed my key and I didn't need to talk to him face to face...my credit card bill will eventually answer that question.

One thing learned from that endeavor: I am not going to lie about how many dogs I have, just to save a buck; the stress is not worth it.

In any event, after a quick stop at Albertsons, Marissa and I pressed forth on the long road North. We charged, we rocked, we continued to gain altitude. The temperature was stifling and the A/C ran long and hard (that's what she said) the whole run through Utah. However, entering into Arizona's highlands, the road to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon began to amaze. As we neared the Kaibab National Forest, we were greeted with rain showers, an insane drop in temperature, and the barren dessert began to fade into lush green forest. If I were more of a botanist, or just a better human being, I would tell you the names of the trees I saw, but instead I will just say they were beautiful.

I had initially envisioned the Grand Canyon's North Rim to be much like the South: hot, desolate, and touristy. I visited the south rim when I was in my 16th year. The North reminded me of Yosemite; though I have never been, I have seen pictures and listened to many people discuss its natural beauty. The Kaibab National Forest encompasses Grand Canyon National Park. As we rolled through Kaibab, we found ourselves descending from winding forest roads into long prairie meadow straight-aways. The views were breathtaking both on their own, and because they were so unexpected. We hurled forward taking it all in at 50mph.

We arrived to a moderate line at the Park entrance. The rain was thick and we continued to thank the skies. As we waited a lady with a sweet A line hair cut and dark eye liner approached us in her shiny new SUV. We both rolled down the window, and she gave us her entrance ticket: pay it forward $25 at a time. We entered the park on a high note. Upon arriving, there were no signs of other dogs, so we decided to leave the pooches in the car. The canyon was breathtaking: a myriad of colors and textures so vast, one wonders how deep the human spirit truly runs.

Meandering through the sea of cabin bound tourists, we found a sweet young intern fresh off his B.S. in Geology. He answered our questions swiftly. "First, there are no dogs allowed on any trails in the park. Second, camping is up the road, but if I were you I would go here." The young sporty spice drew us a map that took us back out of the park and back into the Kaibab National Forest. From what I can tell is this: National Parks are for humans who want to spend money; National Forests are for all of the Earth's creatures and you don't have to spend a dime. The intern guide had us backtrack 5 miles out of the park, and then hit fire road 611, which took us 15 miles to the north tip of the Grand Canyon. There we were allowed to camp for free right off the road. We promptly exited the park, meandered back through the prairies, dropped the 4runner into 4x4 and barged through the forest.

Winding down the dirt road we found ourselves questioning the validity of the information that was given to us; the road seemed to go forever. Finally we began to see a clearing. At the clearing we were greeted with spectacular views of the northern tip of the Grand Canyon, as we pulled up we found a fire pit necked up to an old pine and a perfect clearing to park the car. There was one other couple present, they too had two dogs. We unpacked our gear, pitched a tent and fortified our fire pit, which came with a pre-scavenged horde of wood: pay it forward.

We grabbed a couple of packs, water, and the dogs and headed out to explore the rim. It was as if we had been dropped upon a secret. No tourists or guides, no yuppies and whining babies, just flora, fauna, and unadulterated views of a world wonder. We hiked for about an hour up to a lone ridgeline. The mountain dropped into a serious plateau, but there was no need to be a hero that day, so we proudly snapped the requisite photos and sauntered back to camp.

With evening came food, fire, music, and exploration. We fired up the primus stove and quickly boiled up some chicken noodle soup. After the initial feast we tended to our campfire. With a little effort (we wound up shaving dry wood flakes with a pocket knife to create kindling), we got the fire to catch, and Marissa quickly went to work and stoked the fire to its fullest. After awhile we were down on wood; we needed something more substantial. A large log provided a fulcrum upon which another log was laid perpendicularly, and I proceeded to drop a large rock on its mid point. Success! Large pieces of wood were at our fire’s disposal--Marissa pressed on with her pyrotechnics.

The dogs found there way over to our only neighbors camp and made friends with their pups. They spent the better part of sunset exploring the woods and playing tag through the tree line. I found myself noodling on the guitar and singing songs to the night air. Around dusk we settled the coals down, loaded the dogs into the car, and hopped into the tent; we were so ready for sleep.

With nightfall came the howling winds. They were birthed at the canyon floor; a small hickup on the Earth's breath. Through the lower rock cliffs they took to their adolescence, learning the trade of dancing and laughing. As they reached the crest of the canyon their teenage precociousness rifled the trees with an intensity of giggles and angst. Across the valley on the open plains they found solitude in their journey and retired to old age, making way for the next generation of midnight marauders.

The trees did their best to shelter us, but the wind was something of a cosmic chorus that ceased to crescendo and decrescendo, and so we sat in silence letting our minds run through their own symphonies of thought. I found myself imagining far off lands, lost moments with old lovers, bad politics and strange faces--I found myself wondering why my mind wanders. At the time I had no idea, but Marissa spent her night doing the same. We lay head to toe wishing for sleep, and instead embracing the ferocity of the night. Although I was tired, there was an excitement to the whole event, and I felt blessed to be there.

5:00am we awoke for the sunset. Our clocks were off, so we were an hour early, but we stood there and took in the rise of the sun from across the canyon. Majestic will be what I will call this moment.

Exodus: A Long Road to Cleanliness

Breakfast was quick, packing was even quicker, and we were off at 7:30am. Back through the fire road we went, bobbing and weaving our way to open meadows. We were ten miles into the ride when we came across a young buffalo bull. He stood in the road statuesque and curious. I had been flying down the road at 40mph kicking up dust in all directions, and this was such a contrast to all that we had created. He stood there. I honked. He puffed. I rolled forward he trotted in the same direction. Suddenly, with no real provocation, he jump and kicked his was into the forest. Marissa caught the whole thing in digital pictures.

We pressed out of the woods into the meadows. We stopped and ran up the hill sides. It was amazing to see the natural tree line that had formed on both ends of the prairie. It was as if skyscrapers had taken their cues from pines and ponderosas, and city blocks had sharpened their edge with the river rocks the dried stream left; in the silence of the meadow, we sat in an odd parallel of city life and the natural.. The dogs ran free, chased lizards and crickets, and we meandered before embarking on the journey of journeys.

We rip roared down the road as Constance our navigator barked left and rights at us. Today's trip was through the heart of Navajo country. We dipped down a huge plateau into what seemed to be an endless valley flanked by high rise mesas.

My petal never left the metal and we jetted at 75mph (4cyl carrying a load—it’s fast to me). As Marissa caught Z's, we hurdled through long stretches of sun soaked land. We took a pit stop before the Navajo Bridge over the Colorado River. The dogs ran into the store and I had to wrangle them back to the car, but it was a welcomed stop. From there we pushed forth cutting through what seemed to be an endless backdrop of dessert and a depraved nation of forgotten people.

I found myself commenting in odd ways about the faces and places I saw. Dark skin and long hair huddling beneath dilapidated trailers, barns, shacks, and air conditioned wigwams. I didn't know how to feel, and sometimes my commentary seemed bigoted. I saw an aged Indigenous man holding up a thumb, and I thought to myself, "No way in hell would I pick up that man. These people are desperate". OUCH! Why? Sociological commentary and realizations swam against the current of my inner fear, sorrow, and angst at all I saw. How could these people survive out here? How can selling crafts on the side of an under traveled road, yield an income? How come I never knew this is what it was like? Why has their way of living been made obsolete by another people? The power lines, run down cars, and poorly built houses were monuments in their own way. They were the chokehold of modernity, and as silent as they stood, the death they caused was quieter.

This continued for hours. We went to the 4 corners, but you had to pay, so we turned around and pressed forth. We filled up with gas, drove through continued poverty, and after 480miles we called a quits in Cuba...Cuba, New Mexico.

So here I am, showered, stuffed, and connected to the internet. I am about to sign off and hand over the world to Marissa--she is going to download the audiobook of "All the Pretty Horses". My Aunt suggested the read, and it was also $10 cheaper than "Blood Meridian", which my friend Professor Fletcher recommended. Cormac McCarthy seems fitting in these desolate Southwest stretches.

To the American Dream within us all, I solute you.



P.S. Pictures courtesy of Marissa coming soon.