The Grand Canyon: The Yin and the Yang of The American West

All blogs have been past due this year. It's no one's fault but my own. I seem to find little time just to chill and write anymore, much to my heart's discontent and desperation. But delay no longer …

We returned to the Southwestern desert about a month ago. Lucky as I have always been, I have reasons to go back for work, and because work would be no fun without play, I plan to see a lot more of the desert when I embark on these mandatory trips. Although I love the trees of North Carolina, the rivers, lakes, and ocean, too, my soul craves the desert every so often. Just like you crave a sunburn in the dead of winter.

We drove down from Utah into Arizona, to see The Grand Canyon for the first time together. We made Page, AZ our base-camp, and we traveled from there to The South Rim the first day and to the North Rim the second day.

I have said this before numberless times: anyone should experience driving through the desert at least once in their lifetime. The open space, the desolation, the solitary confinement between you and God, the hopelessness of hitting nothing but red and dust and rock and short and spikey prairie grasses does things to your brain and your heart that you can only feel; I cannot put into words well enough to tell you what that feeling is like. Not to mention that it is probably different for each one of us. One thing that I know for sure is that the desert will never leave you untouched, unstirred to your core, and unmoved... It's one of those experiences that I guarantee will change your life, or at the very least your perspective.

Every time when I drive through the desert and I take it in through my eyes, and nostrils, and ears, my mind brims with its vastness and never-endingness. There is some similarity, in my head, between the vastness of the ocean and that of the desert. No wonder that they tell us that the desert was once an ocean … I don't find that impossible one bit.

Page is a little bedroom community, it seems, for folks vising the Lake Powell and Glen Canyon areas, or The Grand Canyon. I know one person who grew up there, but even he says “it was only temporary.” This is the land of The Southwest, where adobe houses and Mexican food are good friends, where Navajo Indians hail from, and where peachy-pink sunsets are born. If you're quiet enough, you can hear the many centuries of history this land endured, from the territorial wars with Mexico, to those of The White Men submitting The Indians. The thousand years of traditions that the Colorado washed by, most of them unknown and undocumented, but only undug and guessed at by curious, lonely, university savants.

As many millions or billions of people in the world, I had seen The Grand Canyon in many pictures, magazines, movies, commercials and the like. I had some idea of what it would look like. But of course being on the edge of this big gaping hole, seen even from Space, is different than looking at a postcard. The one thing that shocked me was the incredible difference between the South and the North Rims. They are truly as different as the Yin and the Yang of a Chinese symbol.

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

The South Rim is what we saw first. This is the Yang, full of light, screaming bright red and orange hues, and flooded in sunlight. This is the poster child of Arizona, as we all imagine it. It was also the most crowded and busiest. As gorgeous as the landscape was, I would not be fair to not tell you, it was also the most touristy and somewhat cheesiest. If you looked past the human factor, it was as saintly and majestic of a cathedral as all the other God given beauties of the world!

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

Our world got darker the second day, and not just because it started raining pretty much as you left our hotel in Page. Driving to the North Rim was incredibly similar to driving towards Yellowstone National Park or maybe Glacier National in Montana. We could tell we were much higher than when we were at the top of the South Rim, the day before: the pine forests and the ashes never seem to grow lavishly and freely under 8000 or so feet. Once we stopped at the Visitors' Center for the North Rim, it all seemed dead. Deserted and locked away for the winter. No facilities were open, and the handful of visitors were pretty quiet and reserved. Not the cackling crowd of the day before, on the Yang Rim. It was also cold. Bitter windy and cold.

Grand Canyon -  North Rim at Bright Angel Point

You cannot park right next to the rim in The North, like we could the day before. After you park you have to hike a ways through the parking lot, and then through trails to actually arrive at the end of Bright Angel Point and see the canyon below. The canyon walls here are closer to each other, and much, much darker: the landscape turns from the brilliant red and orange into dark greens and blacks in The North. It is as if you are not even looking at the same formation anymore. The Colorado is down there, you think, for you cannot see it, and the terraces slope down towards it, just like you would expect. Yet, the closeness of the two cliffs and the dark colors make you wonder if you are standing at the top of the Going to the Sun road in Glacier National, or truly at the top of The Grand Canyon.

On the North Rim you are in the midst of the Yin of The American Grand Canyon: dark, secretive, hidden, obscure and remote. If you ever saw The North Rim out of the context of its state, and were asked to place it in any American State, Arizona would never come to mind. There was a bluish – grayish haze in the air, maybe the earlier rain that day, or maybe the cold breath of the canyon vegetation. Who knows?! If the South Rim looked like a Florida naked body, scorched in the sun and ready for the next fruity drink, the North looked like an old, grumpy bear, heavy and dark, wanting to be left alone, back turned towards the world while entering its caverns.

There was a strange mystery about The North Rim, a secrecy that one could not decipher. There was an eerie silence and no sound except the breeze through the trees around us echoing into the deep, dark valley below. You could stand unmoved and think the world is dead around you. And then, a baby snake crossed our path reminding us the world is still very much alive, yet.

One thing you cannot help but wonder about when you oversee such ancient, wild, and untouched beauty is the passing of time. I always wonder what such land looked like millions of years ago – I am sure it was different, but I am also sure it was just as gorgeous as it is today. What I hope for the world is that we are smart enough to keep this incomparable beauty untouched, keep its secrets hidden, its trails crooked and trees afresh for the millions of people that will come after us.

What I felt at the top of this huge gap was lucky: to be alive, to be able to move and get there, to be able to see, and smell, and taste the cold, dry air of the desert. I also felt grateful and moved that I am equipped with the right emotional package to understand the depth of the world in front of me, literal, or otherwise.

I could write volumes about how I felt and what I saw and not a word of it would help you understand the same that I understood when I was there. All I can advise you to do is make time from your busy life and go experience it: drive through the desert, search for the spots the most hidden and let your heart listen; let your eye watch. And come back transformed.

My sister and I have talked for years about how we must go away for a while, periodically, remove ourselves from our routines and recharge our batteries. If we don't do this a couple of times a year, just go, hide, and listen to the wind in the trees or a river, or the sound of the ocean waves, or the sound of deep, unshattered silence under the starry skies, whatever … we would never be able to get out of bed and do our daily routines ever again. We would never be able to face this crazy world with all the bad, disappointing news in it. This was one of those purging trips! Recharged and life counter is now back to 0.

I will close with some wiser and more talented words than mine, just to give you a better description than I could put together of this wide-open, universe-famous, all American gem:

“It seems like a gigantic statement for even Nature to make all in one mighty stone word. Wildness so Godful, cosmic, primeval, bestows a new sense of earth's beauty and size. . . . But the colors, the living, rejoicing colors, chanting morning and evening in chorus to heaven! Whose brush or pencil, however lovingly inspired, can give us these? In the supreme flaming glory of sunset the whole canyon is transfigured, as if the life and light of centuries of sunshine stored up in the rocks was now being poured forth as from one glorious fountain, flooding both earth and Sky." (John Muir)

Grand Canyon -  North Rim
Click the picture to view the entire album from this trip 

How Not to Die or Give Up While Climbing a Mountain

The Timpanogos Cave Trail Adventure

Till a week ago, the most difficult trail I can remember ever attempting was The Shoals Falls Loop Trail in South Mountains State Park in NC, or the Hot Pots trail, in Diamond Fork Canyon, in Utah.

But both trails quickly fade in comparison to the Timpanogos Cave Trail, in American Fork Canyon, which kicked my butt!

My husband attempted to climb it 10 years ago. In worse shape than he is now, although younger, and on a 100F+ day in the middle of summer, with no water on hand, he and his friend made it half way up the mountain and turned around. They never made it to the cave.

I will let you read on the specifics of the trail on your own, but I want to tell you about my own experience.

First, I have been intrigued about this cave since I moved here, simply, first, because I love caves. It’s one of those “face your fears” deals for me: I am terrified of bats, and I am not crazy about complete darkness, either. But I love what God and Nature conspire to do inside the belly of the world! And unlike the bottom of the ocean, where I would need special skills to go visit, there are no special skills or instructions required to see a cave.

Then, everyone I know in this area has not only been to the cave, but have climbed The Timpanogos (mountain), a 14 mile trail, which takes you up 11K feet high above the valley floor! Loving heights as much as I do, and looking upon open vistas, I was craving for years to lay my eyes on this beautiful landscape as seen from up there.

I promise my husband every summer that “this year, we’ll do the cave” and yet, for 4 years, we have not done it. So, this year was the year of the cave!

We each got a liter and a half of water to take with us, 6 clementines and a breakfast bar, good shoes and a good night sleep before the trip. And on the Sunday of Labor Day, we reserved our tickets to start the hike at 12.15 PM! My husband was dubious still, all the way to the trail head. And beyond.

In what follows, it’s the story of this hike, in pictures, and words:

It was actually chilly start, in the shade! The weather announced 78 for a high that day, which is perfect hiking weather, but it felt more like 68 to me, hence the sweater:

Right after this picture was taken, my husband dropped his bottle of water into the abyss below us! Oh, no! We were left with just my bottle – just one and a half liter for both of us, and a mile and a half of steep, steep canyon to climb! Will we make it?!

On the climb up, we kept seeing people with lots less water than us, and eating salty snacks, coming back, so we figured if we conserve our snacks and energy we’d be fine with the water we had left!

The trail is paved all the way up – which always made me believe that it’s no big deal. However, “steep” does not even begin to describe it! It is breakneck steep! It’s almost “straight up”, as if you were to rock climb Angels Landing in Zion! Seriously!

At every bend in the road (and there are many, as the trail snakes back and forth through rocky terrain), you feel like your knees, your liver, your chest are going to give up on you and this is your end. Right here, on the Timp Cave trail! 

This is one of the many pictures my husband took of the steep-ness and winding-ness of the trail: we are at one of the bends in the road when we took this shot:

From almost every angle we looked down in the valley from, we saw this abrupt, endless, and humbling beauty below: it was just quite literally breath-taking. I know this is a cliche, but I really don't have any other words for it: the vistas below kept us going and wanting  for more: more angles, more canyon clearance, more flora, more ... and more and more ...:

 

We were thrilled to learn that there are markers to tell you how far along you are in your journey: of course, tourist geeks that we are, we took pictures at every marker: here's me at the 1/4 way spot, right before entering a mini-tunnel:

The terrain is all rock, as you'd expect, in Utah. On every stopping point, you see these huge walls shouting up towards the sky, protecting you from falling off the cliffs. And then nothing but more rock beyond:

 

Although we had a set time for the cave tour, at the top (1:45 PM), we were in no hurry: we stopped not only to rest but also to take in the landscape, near and far. There are lots of up close beauties on the trail, like these flowers springing right off the boulders, or this trunk being one with the desert:

   

Such simple and plain and quiet beauty!  

Because the mountain is so steep and full of loose rocks and boulders, there are many areas throughout the trail marked as " no stop zones" - notice the yellow line in the middle of the trail: you are not supposed to stop in those areas, because of the increased danger for avalanches - this was killing me, because whether feeling dead or not, you could not rest. You had to keep on going:

 

This is me at the 3/4 way mark. Can you tell I am almost ready to die?! 

 

These are more amazing vistas we walked above of: the road you see winding about in the valley is the Alpine Loop, or the bottom of the American Fork Canyon. And the town in the distance is American Fork: 

 

  

To keep it ever so interesting, almost right towards the end of the trail, we found this sign: really, after being over a mile away from civilization, close to the top of this mountain, with the canyon only a mirage picture below us, you warn me about rattle snakes?? And really, do they know to stay off my trail, so I can be safe?!

 

This is me almost close to the end: I just could not believe I was towering over these gapes. I always say that photography never makes justice to mountain pictures because it doesn't matter what lens you use, you always lose in depth and width. Only the naked eye can understand the impact:

 

 My husband was so proud of himself (and I of both of us!) when we reached this sign. He needed a shot for his friend that attempted the hike 10 years ago and never saw this landmark:

 

Right after that shot, we started to see some sign of human presence, and we figured this will be the end of our "beautiful" ordeal: a rooftop, which meant, probably: the entrance to the cave!

 

And this is us, finally, at the entrance of the cave. You have no idea the elation and the excitement we felt when we finally saw the sign and started seeing the park rangers welcoming us:

 

After a 45 minute to an hour tour of the three caves (the Hansen, Middle and Timapnogos Caves), we came out at an even higher spot than where we walked in. I felt like I was really on top of the world, as it seemed like there was no mountain higher than where we were standing at this point:  

 

Not only the beauty, but the chilly breeze and the complete serenity and quietness of the moment were overwhelming. No car noise, no stream, nothing by the wind swishing in your hair was to be heard. If the heart of the cave lets you experience complete and total darkness, the top of the mountain offers you complete and total quietude on this planet.

It's here that we had our "lunch": the breakfast bar and the clementines - the sweetest oranges I have ever tasted - the lavish reward of a hike accomplished:

  

When we finally reached the bottom of the trail, that we had left almost 4 hours before, we took a shot of the park sign, for posterity: 

 

I am exhausted but happy and so much richer than 4 hours before!  

What makes this journey more amazing is the fact that although we love hiking, we are not healthy people! We attempt only "easy" hikes. We are not fit people. We are not even physically active people in my mind (although my husband would beg to differ about me, there). But we took it slow and steady, we reveled in the beauty ahead of us and we conquered the mountain. 

Only half of the water bottle was gone, at the end, and all of the food. We were so starved after it all, and completely threw all good sense to the wind and gorged on chicken wings, steak, mashed potatoes, salads and cheese fries for dinner! The waitress didn't understand how two people could order half of the menu. But if we were to die, we were going to die happy. And full. 

Would I do it again?! Only when my body will forget this pain it's been in for a week! 

I definitely recommend that anyone should attempt it at least once. 

Here's the most famous formation inside the Timpanogos cave: the Great Heart of the Timpanogos. Click on the picture to see the entire album, and all of the cave shots of all the eerie formations:

 Both Aa. and I agreed: when we have guests in Utah, in the next several months, we will encourage them to climb the trail. We, however, might be waiting for them with a picnic, at the bottom of the mountain. That, and a cold bottle of beer. Maybe two years from now, our bodies will forget and we might join. But not before then! Till then, you're all on your own. 

Hydrangeas in the Desert

“The greatest wealth is to live content with little.” (Plato)

I can’t believe it’s the end of June already. Half a year – just gone. Time flies, and we grow old. Not much we can do about it, I s’ppose, other than wake up every morning trying to make it better, more fruitful, or, why not, simpler …

My friends are out there traveling the world. Others are being promoted to the title of their dreams. Others are yet getting more and more degrees in education so high it makes me dizzy. There are people building families, and others picking up the pieces after demolishing them. People conquering diseases and others writing books and building a home with their bare hands.

I have respect and awe for all these challenges and accomplishments of all people I meet every day. But today, for me, I am just simply grateful once again for every nugget of quiet in my life. For every breath of every day and for every day, however unexpectedly it decides to creep up on me.

Today, I am just grateful for the sunset on my back porch and that for the first time in three years, my hydrangea decided to bloom, in the desert. Today, life is simple and quiet. As quiet and simple as rain drops on leaves … 

 

From Low to High

There is nothing more rewarding to us than going away for a short bit. Unplugging from the everyday and putting things into perspective. And the end of the year, the beginning of the Holiday Season, seems to be the perfect time to do it, really.

Our Thanksgiving week was framed by two great trips, one to the South, in the relatively low flats of Nevada, and one to the North of us, atop the peaks of the Wasatch Front. Two very different trips, in landscape, weather, and activities, but similar, too, in more ways than one.

The weekend before Thanksgiving, some friends of ours suggested we should go to Mesquite, NV (closer to us than Vegas) and try our luck at Bingo. Sounded like fun, but no one won anything. At least not in Bingo.


Mesquite, NV

Mesquite is nestled in the Virgin River Valley, almost right on the border with Arizona. It reminded me somewhat of Myrtle Beach, SC, without the beach of course: lots of palm trees, retirees and golf courses! Our friends almost exclusively played bingo or some other games during the weekend, but we took some time to visit some of the local landmarks: the local museum, the art gallery, The General Store and this beautiful arts and crafts store called Baja Imports.

It’s a small, tranquil, sleepy town, a strange mixture of “cheese” and picturesque. Everybody seems to know everyone’s name and if they don’t recognize you, they’ll ask who you are and what you are about. Although set along the Spanish Trail established in 1820’s, the town itself is relatively young (the very small museum of history was the hospital till 1974), with an establishment date of 1880.

The architecture is typical of what you imagine South Western, desert architecture to be: straight lines, not a lot of windows, very much in the adobe style. Pretty much the entire town is monochromatic: various shades of yellow- brown. The streets are quiet and the traffic is slow. It was nice to kick back and just slow down a little, taking in the sleepy streets and the vacation-like lifestyle that exudes from everyone in town.

The gambling crowd was somewhat of a rude awakening to me. No movie I have ever seen about gambling could have depicted the reality that I saw. People at the tables and mostly at the slot machines look like they are in a trance. Despite the millions of bright lights, the casinos are not luxurious and don’t look rich. OK, maybe this was a “lower class” casino compared to Vegas, but still: they reek of cigarette smoke (we SO take for granted the smoke free public places so common in so many states till we enter an establishment that is not abiding by those rules yet! Man, what a difference!!), they are noisy, dark (I know! With all the lights, still!) and people look like drug addicts, hooked on these machines.

They don’t look happy: paying no attention to what’s going on around them, smoking, barely eating, unhealthy looking and somewhat skinny, maybe with a drink in hand (alcohol is free “if you gamble”), eye bloodshot and pushing the button. Repeatedly. Obsessively. Hopelessly. Hopefully, I should say. It was quite a sad picture of humanity for sure.

There was a handful of folks who were there just for fun. In groups of friends, smiling, enjoying the drinks, the conversation, the cheap popcorn, having fun winning or losing. But the majority of the crowd was made up of gambling “veterans” that you kind of knew lost everything at least once in their lives, for the greed of the game. Those folks looked like lonely ghosts who had one relationship: it’s them and the machine. No friends. No bonding. Becoming machines themselves, maybe.

Between the Utah and the Nevada borders, there is a short distance that takes you on I-15 through Arizona. Back in the day, when America was just a dream for me, I have always wanted to see two states: Arizona and Montana. The apparent emptiness of one and the lush richness of the other fascinated me. The very little North Western corner that I have seen of Arizona on this trip was much like I imagined Arizona to be: arid, red, wide open and filled with cacti.

I love any type of cactus plants, but in Arizona they make up entire forests almost – free from the pots I usually have seen them in, they look like they tower over the open lands, owning it – alone, unperturbed and at home. The soil is either sandy or rocky and extremely barren. The cacti are fragile yet painfully thorny – you touch them with the most care and respect. It’s a beautiful live painting of desolation and solitude, which, at the same time, breathes life and mystery.

Just standing in the middle of the Virgin River Camping Grounds and feeling small in the midst of the tall rocky mountains was my favorite part of the trip; it also gave me once again the feeling that “I have arrived”. It’s a funny feeling seeing your dreams alive – you know you’ve made it, and yet you’re empty again, looking for the next goal to reach.

Virgin River Campgrounds, AZ - click on the picture to see the entire Mesquite album

Park City, UT

After a short week, where we stopped home for a bit of food and friendly gathering for Thanksgiving, we headed North to Park City, to spend the following weekend in The Stein Eriksen Lodge , a ski resort.

If Mesquite sits low, at an elevation of 1608 ft, The Lodge is perched up on many a slopes at 8200 ft above sea level. It was a quick and steep climb from the weekend before – my heart and brain (ears) definitely felt it!

Although the stay at The Lodge was scattered with various snags, results of miscommunication and poor judgment on the parts of some of the staff, the overall feel after the weekend was of a time well spent, in a high end establishment, with great décor, amazing food and friendly folks.

If you can afford it (ours was a gift), I would definitely recommend staying there, ski season or not! The resort was named after a famous Norwegian skier of the 50’s who later immigrated to the US and made Utah his home. Needless to say, the rates go up during skiing, which starts on December 1st. But skier or low key traveler, the stay here would be worth it in any season – you’ll get to enjoy the beautiful Utah landscape and many trails and bike routes, as well as the proximity to Park City and Deer Valley. And as in any “high class” resort nowadays, let’s not forget the spa and the wine cellar they have, as well.

They don’t skimp much on anything in here. Down comforters and pillows, expensive soaps and lotions in the bathroom, leather couches in lobbies and living rooms, tons of natural wood and stone, real wood fireplaces in every room, fully furnished condos (not just hotel rooms), experienced and innovative executive chefs make the stay in this hotel elegant and cozy.

The views from anywhere in the hotel are amazing – just endless amounts of mountains, with winding roads leading to the bottom of the valley, pine trees and rocky peaks.

After a short drive of about 10 minutes, you can be in Downtown Park City, close to anything and everything this beautiful mountain town has to offer: eating, shopping, art, strolling along historic Main Street. We had dinner at Squatters Brewery, a local favorite in this part of Utah (we usually go to the one in Salt Lake), brunch on Saturday at our old friend, The Eating Establishment, which is another famous, historic restaurant in The City, breakfast at Wasatch Bagel Café, which we discovered for the first time, quite by chance, just googling a place to have bagels in, and with which we fell in love, because the coffee is amazing, the portions are generous ,and the taste is even better!

And when you say “historic” in Utah … you will have to remember you’re measuring time by American history, not European. As an example: the oldest restaurant in Park City is The Red Banjo, and it was established in 1962. The Eating Establishment is the oldest “full service” restaurant, with a birthday of 1972.

On Saturday night, we dined at the The Glitretind Restaurant inside of our resort. It was part of our “weekend getaway package”. Just like in some of the restaurants of California, we once again felt like we were witnesses of higher culinary arts, not just of “food”. The presentation of all the dishes, and the combinations we had were something you’d not quite find at your local diner. We had a corn and shrimp soup with popped corn, a duck breast cooked to perfection, parsnip puree that was smooth and silky like a mousse, grilled shrimp on watermelon appetizers and the best caramel apple martini, too.
We ate things like “watermelon radish” and “hen of the woods mushrooms” which I am sure will not be as easy to come by as going into our local grocery store and pulling them out of a bin.

The slopes were not open yet, which made for the resort to be less busy, much to our enjoyment, as we typically hate crowds. We don’t ski, either, but even without winter sports, we enjoyed a beautiful and relaxing stay in a close to a magical place – the fires, the foods, the winter outside, the smell of wood made it all fairytale - like for us. We will definitely keep this place in mind for future anniversaries and special occasions.

Both of the weekends were a great way to kick off the (always busy) season to come. We learned a lot of new things about Western history, saw new landscapes, enjoyed new foods, had fun gambling and chatting with friends, we disconnected from the everyday and recharged for what it is to come.

As my dad always says: always make time to celebrate and savor life, and not just work-routine-work all the time. With the help of friends and family, to whom we say a big “thank you”, I like to think we did just that.

View from our balcony, at Stein Eriksen Lodge - Park City, UT
Click on the picture for the entire album