Grand Canyon

Standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon with no railings, you gaze straight down into the mile-deep chasm with nothing between you and pure, immense, raw beauty – and the prospect of imminent death. It is interesting, terrifying, defining, and forbidding, yet somehow inviting. For eons people have stood in this exact place, puzzled by similar inexplicable and intrusive thoughts that spark a primal need to survive and thrive, and to know the answers to universal mysteries. Contemplation and philosophy are shamelessly aroused by the vastness of the canyon’s rugged and complex beauty.

The great gorge left behind by the timeless flow of the life-giving Colorado River left me meditative and wistful, but it also made my heart swell at its immensity and majesty. Rarely does a view evoke such a range of tangible emotions.

Ella and I walked for miles around the gorge, taking in the views from the Rim Trail on a beautiful day in March. On the sides of the path were patches of snow, still untrampled, and Ella liked to sit on them or lie down on her belly every now and then to feel the cold on her butt and her stomach. The trail overlooks the Grand Canyon’s endless ridges, mesas, cliff faces, and rock formations, and is magnificent. Erosion and climate variations over the millennia have formed strata of earth, leaving a kaleidoscope of colors in the vast depths.

Purple, red, orange, gray, brown, and white striations of shale, limestone, sandstone, and igneous rock are in every conceivable combination for a medley of swirls and textures, of rises, flats, and falls. Caves show themselves in a series of holes in the distant rock, small to the eye, but undoubtedly giant up close.  

Plant life clings to the edge of the canyon; there is none inside it. On the cliffs, gnarled limbs of dying trees twist here and there among the live ones, giving a sense of continuity, death, and rebirth. Far, far below is a tiny patch of emerald-green, the Colorado River. How on God’s green earth could it have created all this?

In some places the canyon edges have railings, but in others, their absence gives you a daring, unencumbered view, both daunting and exhilarating. Sometimes flat and broad rocky outcroppings allow you to sit on the edge, seemingly hovering over the canyon below. The distance and breadth of the gorge are unfathomable, even mystifying. Even while looking at it you believe your eyes are deceiving you. It looks as vast as the heavens.

The paved Rim Trail is beautiful and well-traveled, lined with pines, cedars and junipers that have been blown by the winds, roots twisting, trying to keep a foothold in eroding soil. The trail is marked with a man-made millennia timeline studded with polished rock samples to let you know what happened when. Although the deepest gorges are believed to be several billion years old, the real erosion of the Colorado River began around five million years ago. People showed up around 12,000 years ago. The sheer magnitude of the gorge and its history are enough to convince you people are just a blip on the scale of time. The Grand Canyon will be here in all its glory far after we are gone.

This park has been by far the most diversely populated one we have been to, with visitors of all colors, ages, and abilities. It often has been my experience to see only white people in National or State Parks, and even camping or hiking in general. It is disheartening when I realize I haven’t seen anyone who looks different from me for days or weeks. Here at the Grand Canyon, there are numerous representations of our nation’s diverse population, and it brings great joy to know that all people feel welcome and comfortable! In fact, it is glorious.

The north side of the Grand Canyon is closed in the winters because the pass is usually snowed in, so Ella and I visited only the south rim. Traveling east on the south rim leads to a watchtower and a better view of the river, emerald-green, thin, snaking its way through the lower cliffs. Gazing over the vastness of the canyon, the inner contemplations never cease. The sheer size and force of weather, time, geology, and history make simple observation impossible. The mind is held captive – kidnapped – by the natural beauty, which goes on and on and on.

Ella and I continued traveling east, stopping to take in the gorge at every opportunity. Eastward also happens to be the way to Page, AZ, with more breathtaking views, so we followed.