More on my trip:

On one of the rest stops during the bus ride up, I met a nice couple from Toms River, NJ. Linda managed to maneuver herself to within earshot of my seatmate and commented aloud to her husband about how much I wanted to take photos through the window but couldn't, etc. Next time we got on the bus, my seatmate offered me the window seat. Turned out I could do just as well if he leaned back (the windows are large) a bit to give me a clear shot, so we were both happy.

The view on the way to the GC is amazing. Clumps of boulders dot the landscape as if some giant child were using hundred ton stones as toys, stacking them here and there. Often, there was no obvious reason for the topmost boulders not to topple from their perches. The desert floor is not sand, as one might think from watching movies, but is rife with scrubby, scraggly vegetation. The mountains beyond are utterly barren. Not a single patch of grass grows there. At the highest levels, snow was still visible.

In places during the climb up from the Hoover Dam elevation, sheer rock walls line the twisting road, and little piles of fallen rock cover what we would consider an emergency lane. I would not want to spend time changing a flat tire there!

Motorists are constantly told that if they break down, they should stay with their vehicles and not try to go for assistance. First, pockets of civilization are few and far between, and second, the elevation, lack of humidity, and wild fluctuations in temperature can kill a person in a surprisingly short time. The roads are patrolled by air and land constantly, so staying with your disabled vehicle is the only smart thing to do. Cell phone reception can be spotty inside those high rock walls.

We stopped a couple of times for coffee breaks, and finally reached Tusayan (I'm not sure of the spelling) outside of the Grand Canyon National Park, where we stopped at Quality Inn for our buffet lunch and to pick up Pat, who was to conduct the tour of the park itself while Don, our main driver, took a nap. The most interesting thing there was that they had enough Tylenol to dampen the raging headache I'd developed, and the pieces of fried chicken on the buffet were so tiny I wondered aloud if they let their chickens grow up before slaughtering them. Leave it to me to be fascinated by a chicken thigh, eh?

For the very first time in my entire life, I sat alone at a table and ate a meal. Well, I didn't eat much, actually, and only sat there for about ten minutes, but it was a bit of a milestone. I didn't like it much.

While there, virtually everyone who'd been on the bus teased me about missing it and having to wait for me at Hoover Dam. They were very good about it, though if they'd given it any thought, they might have realized eventually that having to wait for me cost us some precious viewing time at the Canyon. I really regret that, for myself as well as for them. We had several nationalities aboard the bus, and of those foreign visitors, only the German couple joined in the teasing. I'm not sure the Japanese couple were fluent in English, and I learned that the Indian family were barely intelligible. I think they were also kind of shy.

We finally entered the park. Remember, I had arrived in Las Vegas late the night before. Lv is, I believe, at 3500 feet above sea level. The Grand Canyon is at 6500 feet. Not only do I live my life here at four feet above sea level, I live in air so humid you can almost pour it in a cup. My ears were killing me and the air was very dry. I drank enough water to make a dromedary tear up with envy and yet still felt parched the entire day.

The temperature was about 20 degrees cooler than LV, and it rained until Pat parked the bus. He told us about the various explorers who visited the Canyons over the centuries, and how one wrote back to the federal government that the Canyon was too remote, too desolate and too uninteresting to ever be useful. He opined that only one or two people would ever find it interesting. He was wrong, Pat quipped, by about 4.9 million visitors last year alone.

Pat and his wife, who is a member of a local American Indian tribe, live in the park itself, as do many rangers and other people. It is one of only two national parks with its own school system, and the only one offering pre-K level. The school graduated a whopping 37 seniors last year. The average grade point of all the students is 3.8.

So we wound around, looking at the Ponderosa pines, hoping to see an elk (we didn't), and suddenly Pat told us to look out the bus at 1 o'clock for our first glimpse of the 7th Wonder of the World. Through the trees, we saw it, and there was a collective stir on the bus, murmurings and a couple of long, drawn out ohs. As we pulled into the parking lot at Bright Angel Lodge, the rain stopped and the sun came out. This was, of course, my doing. I'm not part Indian for nuthin' y'know.

Not one of us stopped inside the lodge to get ice cream or visit the facilities. We couldn't get through that building and out to the rim of the Canyon fast enough. Power walkers would be proud of the pace we set. Another of the company's buses had already parked and belched out its passengers, but we flowed past them like salmon eager to spawn.

The sun was shining on the far side of the canyon, leaving our side in shadow. The rain clouds were gone. Just...gone. In their place was blue sky and elongated cotton balls of brilliant white clouds floating lazily above the canyon.

I estimate the crowd there at about 500 or so. Many, many tour buses and private vehicles. Bright Angel Lodge is where the small cabins I fell in love with over the Internet are located. You can sit in your cabin and watch the sun set over the canyon rim. The cabins are Spartan, but very, very reasonably priced. I'd love to spend a few days in one, but doubt I'll get the chance. That's okay. I saw the Canyon, and that fulfills one of my biggest life wishes.

Here is where you can sign up for the mule ride down into the canyon. People can walk the switchback trails down to the floor of the canyon if they want to. After the rain, the trail seemed treacherous to me. I went down a few switchback lengths (each part is probably 15-20 feet long. I'm terrible at estimating distances, so that's just a guess).

Unfortunately, the altitude was a problem and there wasn't enough time to go too far down, anyway. Getting back UP those switchbacks was torture! I had to stop at every turn and pull in a few deep breaths before climbing higher.

Me and my vertigo did fine, thank you very much. Since it's only positional vertigo, leaning over a stone parapet and looking down doesn't bother me too much. Acrophobia is an entirely different matter, but since I was absorbed with taking photographs, I forgot to be terrified.

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(more photos coming)

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Groucho

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