All night I tossed and turned as I tried to sleep in the driver’s seat of my truck. My horrible decision to try this way of sleeping for the night proved to be a terrible one. While you might think I could’ve just hopped in the backseat, which is where I had slept before, it was not that easy. Gear had to be shuffled all around the truck for that to happen, and with it being around 18 and icy outside (essentially within the truck too), I had no desire to emerge from my sleeping bag to rearrange everything.

Some bit of sleep found me somehow in the night, but it was not much. I peeled myself out of my sleeping bag to see the light of this new world, and what a new world it was! The sun shined through the spruces bright and beautiful as its light shimmered in the snow. Once I got up, I did not even care that I barely slept. I was so excited to explore the park, I basically dragged Lucy out of her nest and into the cold morning air and snow. She realized how much she loved the snow. There were so many new things to sniff in this weird place she found herself in.

I fired up the Coleman stove and cooked up some sausage and eggs as Lucy ate her breakfast inside the truck. Ravens, intelligent nuisances around the park, gathered around perching on large mounds of snow in hopes of stealing a snack or treasure. They are notorious for stealing food, trash, or gear from campsites. Despite their best efforts, I managed to deter them from collecting anything of my own. Once I had my fill of breakfast, it was time to see the star of the show. I was oddly nervous - as If I were going on a first date or meeting a celebrity. Afterall, I had wanted to see this place nearly my entire life.

There was no itinerary for the day, so the first overlook I saw a sign to would lead me to my first glimpse. I did not care which one it was. Yavapai Point was the lucky winner. From the parking lot I could see a sliver of the North Rim. The lush green forest glistened with snow. The bitter cold wind gusted, and I felt giddy as Lucy and I walked up the pathway to finally see it - The Grand Canyon. We had really made it!

As we carefully walked up to the icy ledge of the canyon, a huge gust of wind roared up the wall blasting snow and ice right into my face. An incredible welcome! I stood there for a few minutes trying to comprehend what was in front of me and the journey that led me there. I’ve taken several adventures in the past few years, but nothing as unequivocally illogical (for me) and grueling as this journey. Lucy pulled me down the icy path as if she were a sled dog, even though she’s only thirty pounds. There was a small amphitheater area along the trail. I had to sit down for a few moments to absorb everything again. You’d be hard pressed to find another amphitheater with a view quite like that! Whomever designed that should be very proud of themself.

Gnarly
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

We walked the trail for quite a while, stopping frequently to take photos for myself and for other park visitors. I’d be curious to know how many times over the years I have taken photos for strangers in national parks and other tourist destinations. Maybe it’s a photographer thing, but I rarely ever ask someone to take my photo, even in incredible places like the Grand Canyon. However, I gathered the will to ask a group of people from Georgia. They were more than happy to take a photo of Lucy and me. Luckily, there was at least one decent one without my eyes closed or a horrible glare of sun light. It’s funny how some people take photos versus others.

After meandering along the trail for a bit, we headed back to camp as one more gust of wind blew up the side of the canyon to push us along. I decided to try and borrow a snow shovel from the site office to shovel out my camp site – that was useless. It was so cold; the snow had frozen again after melting. It was essentially twelve inches of ice, and this Mississippi boy was not about to spend his one full day in the Grand Canyon, shoveling ice and snow. On that note, it was time to cook up some burgers for lunch. I nearly caught myself and my truck on fire, but they turned out surprisingly good!

I wanted to take a nap after eating so much, but I had more exploring to do. Lucy and I took a cruise for a bit. We passed very closely to some mule deer and a few snoozing elk – all close enough to capture some photos of and admire them for a moment. It was ironic though that the times I saw the most deer and elk was near the parts of the park with the most people.

Lucy and I stopped in the visitor’s center then walked to Mather Point. Everyone we encountered was a new friend to her. It made me glad that I brought her to see the smiles on peoples’ faces when they saw her and give her pets. It made her happy too! As we made it down to Mather Point, it was surprising to see how many people were out there, braving the cold and slippery rocks to take a photo of themselves. “When in Rome”, I thought, and followed the modern tourist protocol.

Mather Point People
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

The sun had begun its decent in the sky so I sought advice from a park ranger as to where the best place to watch the sunset would be. She told me, pretty much anywhere. However, she mentioned Hermit’s Rest as a good spot, which was a good way down the road. I made a sandwich in the parking lot, scarfed it down, and off we went. On the way there, I noticed a spot called “The Abyss”. It looked like a great spot to park and watch the sunset in some warmth, but we continued. When we got to Hermits Rest, the road to the trail head was closed to private vehicles. I was not exactly thrilled with the idea of lugging a bunch of camera gear and Lucy down there on foot. We hopped in the truck and backtracked, looking for the spot I had seen earlier. By the time we got there, a few others had the same idea in mind.

Carved
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

I parked the truck and got out to walk around and inspect. A guy I noticed that had parked next to me, had walked up the road a bit. I watched as he walked out on the cliff. I curiously took some photos of him and thought, “I cannot watch this man die if he falls”, so I turned away and focused on the scenery. Luckily, he did not fall and made his way back to his car and left. It was a little strange to see when I think about it.

Lucy joined me and we sat on the wall of the overlook watching the sun sink below the horizon. A man and his dog watching a sunset in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It felt like something out of a movie. (Side note: If for some reason someone makes a movie about my life, that needs to be part of it.) I did my best to capture the moments of the fading sunlight painting the walls of the canyon with its last splashes of gold. For a while, though, I simply had to take in the scene without looking through my viewfinder. Pretty soon the light drained into the Colorado River leaving its fading remnants to be overtaken by the cold dark night. I began to think about the journey back home and how badly I wanted to stay longer. One day - that is all the time I had to see one of Earth’s most treasured natural wonders. I drove Lucy and I back to camp, nearly sick with the thought of leaving.

The Last Light
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

At the camp site, I made a fire and sipped on some whiskey to keep me warm as I roasted some hot dogs. This was a true camp dinner if there ever was one. Lucy snoozed in her warm nest after having her own grub. She had no interest in sitting out in the cold past her bedtime with me. I sat in the dark as the fire light danced off the snow. Writing in my journal out there, I felt very alone despite others camping nearby. They were all cozy in their cars and RVs, but I needed to sit there and be present in that moment - to be cold and feel the gravity of the experience I was within. Tired and wary, I made sure to shuffle things around in the truck to prepare for our departure and my sleeping arrangement. I would not make the mistake of trying to sleep up front ever again. As a bright full moon shined into my truck, I drifted off to sleep, praying our trip home would go smoothly.

The Canyon Run: Part III

The Canyon Run: Part II