Tag Archives: grand canyon

It left a bad taste in my mouth.

Leaving the Grand Canyon, we saw this….

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And this…

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And then an awful lot of this…

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Which is basically nothing.

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Nothing but dry, barren, useless dirt and rock.

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And that my friends, is the Najavo nation reservation.

27,673 miles of nothing.

I’m not going to get political. I won’t rail against the government that stole their land and their culture. The government that forbade them to practice their religion or speak their language.  The government that slaughtered the buffalo, settled the plains, destroyed their way of life and shunted them on to large tracts of inhospitable land.

No, not me.

But I will post these pictures of what we saw.

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Poverty.

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And a once proud people…

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Now forced to try and make a few bucks off the passing tourists.

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I could make a joke about the jerky…

But my heart isn’t in it.

As we drove through this bleak landscape, we remembered a recommendation someone gave us about a place called the Cameron Trading Post… supposedly rich in Native American history with authentic Navajo food in the restaurant and lots of Indian art in the gift shop.

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Well, it certainly didn’t look Native American.

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And it’s rich history was basically two white men who traded with (and took advantage of) the Navajo years ago and made a fortune.

The authentic food? Navajo taco salad was the closest I saw.

We ordered dinner, which I didn’t photograph because it was absolutely inedible and had to be sent back.

Oh, there was Indian art… some of it made in China.

What was authentic? Astronomically expensive, marked up for tourists jewelry that I’m sure the Navajo artists saw very little profit from.

The food wasn’t the only thing that left a bad taste in my mouth.

Frozen fog and more man eating squirrels.

Is it strange that one of my favorite parts of the Grand Canyon was the section where we couldn’t see a damn thing?

Our last stop was the Desert Watchtower, and by the time we got there at the end of the day….

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Everything was touched by frozen fog.

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It was like walking into a sub zero fairyland.

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Misty.

Quiet.

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And utterly enchanting.

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But also cold AF.

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Inside as well as out.

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Seriously, you could see your breath in there.

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Hello?

Large fireplace…

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How about filling it with those overpriced books you’re trying to sell in the gift shop and lighting those babies up?

Tourists be shivering!

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As you can see, we couldn’t see.

Anything.

The canyon is right there, outside the windows… but you’d never know it.

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And thank you once again government shutdown for interfering with our vacation, we couldn’t even climb to the top.

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While the husband went outside to document some info on a plane crash…

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I found a reflectoscope….

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And more psychotic squirrel warnings.

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Leaving the tower…

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We walked back through the frozen fog…

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And marveled.

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At all the sugar coated flora..

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Still freezing…

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But glad to have experienced it.

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Oh, deer.

Because it’s not always about rocks.

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(I have no idea what that means, but I’m running out of rock memes)

As we started to drive out of the Grand Canyon National Park…

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We passed a mule deer.

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And then a whole herd.

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They’re sweet little things.

Much smaller than what we have here in Maine….

Did you know there’s a village inside the park?

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Complete with lodges…

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And cottages…

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That need carpet cleaners?

I didn’t. It never occurred to me that there would be anything other than natural, pristine wilderness.

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But there was a train station…

And studios, an amphitheater and a market.

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There were also some pretty impressive icicles.

Told you it was cold!

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Having been dutifully warned of the traffic…

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We turned on Desert View Drive, where we didn’t view any desert….

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But did run into frozen fog….

Which, when it sticks to the trees and bushes?

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Is almost magical.

Monument Creek Vista and hermit reunions.

 

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This was the last scenic pull off we visited on the Hermit Road at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

 

 

Don’t get too excited, the saga isn’t over yet.

 

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This particular spot was stunning.

The grandeur…

 

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The colors…

 

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The hermits.

 

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But it was cooooold.

So cold.

 

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And though there were captivating things to read about rocks…

 

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I took my last picture… and jumped into the warm car.

But wait.

Could it be?

 

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Had I really found it…?

 

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The official site of Hermit reunions!

Who knew.

The abyss….

 

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Creepy meme aside, I meant this abyss.

 

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South Rim, Grand Canyon.

 

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Was it deeper than any of the other chasms we saw that day?

I don’t know.

When you’ve seen one giant gaping hole….

 

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I have to admit, as grand (and impressive, and majestic, and awe inspiring, and wondrous) as it was… and it really was! After an entire day ducking in and out of scenic vistas and taking pictures of holes and rocks in the frigid wind, my mind’s eye was looking elsewhere.

 

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Trees?

Sure…

 

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Placards about ravens?

Why not.

 

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Obligatory cell phone panoramic?

Check.

 

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Husband walking?

Yeah, I only have 11,786 of those.

 

 

Short video clip?

Sorry, that too.

 

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Because Hell, when it feels like 4 below and you can no longer feel your feet? Sometimes rocks are just…

Rocks.

 

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Well, yes.

There is that.

Chatting up an elk at Hopi Point

Did I mention the Grand Canyon was cold that day?

Well, it was.

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And hour after hour we were jumping in the car… not nearly long enough to warm up…. and then jumping out of the car to explore the next site.

When we hit Hopi Point?

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I sat in the car for a while and conversed with an elk while I got some circulation back in my fingers.

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Not the greatest conversationalists, elk.

But to be fair, this one had his (her?) mouth full, so I might have missed key parts of the witty repartee..

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After a while I ventured out…

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And was struck speechless by the sheer grandeur.

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Alright, I wasn’t speechless.

But there was no one around and the elk wasn’t listening… so cut me some slack.

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This section of the canyon was majestic.

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If you’re into wide open, vast chasms of rock that could swallow you whole.

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It wasn’t pretty, per se….

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But raw, stark beauty is striking in its own right.

A guy named Powell….

Powell Point Memorial.

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At the end of Powell Point.

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Named for a guy named Powell.

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Who says my posts aren’t educational?

Well…okay.

But they do have pretty pictures.

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Walking out to the end of Powell Point was a frigid experience….

The wind was frigid, snapping my hair into my face like a whip. It felt like it was 4 below.

And I could no longer feel my nose.

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Whew.

Red… but still there.

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I scurried around, taking pictures.

Thinking, yeah… if it was 50 degrees warmer I’d sit a spell.

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But the husband was happily climbing around.

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Exploring every last square inch.

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And that’s the thing about the Grand Canyon….

There are lots of inches to discover.

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Including this fuzzy elk butt that was pointing at the car window when I got in.

Damn.

I love nature.