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After a half-hour wait to get in the entrance to the park, we found our... campsite. Here is where
the gods of chaos enjoyed a hearty laugh over cosmic tea and biscuits. The winds were high, which
meant the tent attempted takeoff at every gust, and we realized we lacked a hammer with which to
bury the tent stakes. After Dave gave himself jackhammer syndrome by trying to use a rock, he
promptly gave himself a huge welt on his forearm with the folding shovel. Some people moved in
next site with a motor home, and chained to a tree their three gargantuan dogs, presumably stolen
from the "Omen" movie set.
BIANCA: Great. We're finally here and I'm going to be eaten by Cujo.
However... after sweat and tears and dust and exhaustion, the tent was raised, rocks piled about
the stakes, and we staggered down to see where one could get some vittles. There's a cafeteria,
and, um... well, there's the cafeteria. Don't eat there unless you're a tourist, or desperate.
Note Bianca there next to the curious hamburgers. Er, I mean Curios and Hamburgers.
So after this, with Dave's arm throbbing and right eye still shut, Bianca took him to the Yavapai
Observation Point, and he saw the Grand Canyon for the first time in his adult memory.
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The Rim Trail pauses at the El Tovar Hotel, which is a nice place to stay if you can get it.
Elegantly designed rustic fireplaces, animal heads on the walls, plenty of wood, rocking chairs
on the expansive veranda, that sort of thing. Next to it across a glade lies the Hopi House,
built in 1905 as living quarters for Hopi artisans and now functions as a place to sell Hopi
crafts and souvenirs. It was modeled after part of the Hopi village at Third Mesa, in Oraibi.
The doors are very small.
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A local squirrel, well used to handouts from brainless tourists, is apparently also a Master
of Martial Arts. Observe his fighting stance as he practices his picture-pose kata.
When the sun fell below the treetops we came back up to the Rim to take some evening shots and
to find some dinner. We meant to eat at the Arizona Room, which looked nice and martini-friendly,
but accidentally entered the Bright Angel Restaurant, which has a minimal but pleasant view of the
Canyon. One order of stuffed shells, a bowl of chili, and a Mondavi Cabernet later, we rather
embarrassedly bought a small flashlight from the gift shop in order to find our way back to the
(now very dark) campsite.
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Waiting for the shuttle to the campgrounds was an agonizingly cold fifteen minutes, but what
made it bearable was two delightful middle-aged English couples who joined us -- the kind with
whom you would love to sit and have several drinks -- hopping with the cold and erupting with
reserved but hilarious-at-the-time epithets:
"Wait... lights... Bus? Bus! No, car..."
"Lor' a-mercy! I should have had another one of those drinks!"
"A bus! My kingdom for a bus!"
They sympathized with us as we realized that their shuttle trip would end at the comfortable
Yavapai Lodge, while we looked forward to a tent. :)
Back at the tent, Dave stood outside for many minutes with his head craned skyward. The stars
are amazing.
DAMAGE REPORT: Dave gave himself carpal tunnel with rock. Dave cracked shovel on left
forearm. To be thorough, Dave then whacked forehead sharply on seat belt loop of
driver's seat. Dave is glutton for punishment. Right eye still shut.
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DAVE: Omigod, NO WAY! I REMEMBER this place... Granny's Closet. On several of our numerous family
road trips to Missouri, we would eat here for dinner. I remember having some incredible navy bean
soup here, the like of which I've been searching for ever since. Too bad I didn't see it
sooner!
Anyway, up the 180 to the Grand Canyon! Bianca tells me it's a pretty big hole in the ground, so
I'll have to see what's up with that.
