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2Apr10 – Fri – Seligman, AZ – Grand Canyon AZ

First off, I apologize that these aren't as polished, they are a bit disjointed and switch tenses, but I don't have time to clean them up at the moment, so bear with me :)

The day started alright. Brunch at a little café in Seligman, where dead animals and cute signs and pictures decorate the walls. Derek ordered from the healthy menu – a half pound burger with a full plate of fries. He kept emphasizing that it came from the healthy menu (because it wasn’t the whole pound burger). My stomach felt a little unsettled, and I couldn’t eat more than half a bagel for breakfast, but I thought it was just me being tired and excited. Not so much. Derek had his day of reckoning yesterday, today was to be my day.

We drove down Route 66 in Seligan with a few stops at stores decorated in 50’s era décor, including the one recommended by our friend Tamara, where dozens of mannequins (including a pseudo-Elvis) hang around waiting for you to take pictures of or with them.

We still had a couple hours drive ahead of us. We checked the weather temps for the Grand Canyon. “High of 50,” Derek said. “Low of 24,” I added. Derek smiled. “Soooo typical of us. I look at the high, you look at the low.” I had to laugh.

I was feeling increasingly nauseous, as we drove through a land of dead greens and bushy trees, cattle and barbed wire fences. As we closed the distance to the Grand Canyon, it morphed from desert to evergreen territory in the blink of an eye. I concentrated on the music we were listening to as we drove, to distract myself. There’s nothing better than the right music for driving, it really helps give a feeling to a place. Derek was playing Johnny Cash, whose genius I’ve just begun to fully appreciate. There is such power and emotion in his gravelly, crooning voice, it stirs deep emotion. His lyrics are brilliant, hilarious, and poetic. It was perfect music for the road: I felt less nauseous and more reflective. I thought about his strength of spirit, that could reach across generations and pull someone like me in. He bridges the chasm of time and age to speak in personal whispers to so many people, tapping into the universal truth of the pains and joys of being human: frustration, love, anger, beauty, hardship, wonder, regret, sadness, hope. Especially hearing the last albums he made in his 70’s – his voice older, more tired, but still powerful. It makes me think about beginnings and endings, and about my own beginning and ending, and the journey between. Driving through the shade of towering ponderosa pines, listening to Johnny Cash brought on my own spirituality, and I wondered if there is something more than life, everything seems too beautiful not to continue in some infinite form. And even if not, then simply acknowledging it, experiencing this moment right now is enough.

And then not even Johnny Cash and a mind full of spirituality could keep the nausea at bay. At the first rest stop inside the Grand Canyon, Derek dropped me off, and with the poetry of Cash still in my mind, I violently throw up everything that was in me until I strained my throat. From communing with nature to communing with the porcelain god. How typical.

I kept having weird dry heaves for the next couple of hours, and I don’t know if it was stress or food or bug or what, but I thought it was certainly karma for thinking I was lucky not to end up in Santa’s shitter. Luckily, the Grand Canyon bathrooms have clean facilities, running water and flushing toilets, or I’d probably still be there in some sort of endless, smell & site induced cycle of regurgitation.

I still managed to help Derek put up the tent (in between dry heaves) and then fixed up the inside so I could lay down for an hour while he went to the market and set up the rest of camp. I felt better after that, and was even able to eat a few saltines. To continue the path to healing, Derek and I hiked one and a half from our camp to the South side Canyon Rim trail, ending at Yavapai point. I was determined to see the Grand Canyon no matter what shape I was in. I couldn’t risk being here twice and not seeing it (the first time I went on my last road trip it was filled with smoke from a forest fire. We knew the canyon was there, but only in theory).

When the GC finally appeared, I was able to forget my funny stomach in the presence of such an enormous, breathtaking abyss. For a brief, questionably accurate geology lesson, the canyon is 277 miles long, 18 miles wide (at it’s greatest distance), and a mile deep. At the bottom lay rocks that are 2 billion years old. The canyon was formed due to complicated erosional processes driven by the Colorado River and the Kaibab Plateau (part of the larger Colarado Plateau).

Less scientifically, it is a cold, aloof presence, always watching. Its exposed history of rocky bones cry out with ancientness. It is colorful, inviting, and intimidating. It begs for a picture.

We snapped away as we watched the sun slowly set, and people even more insane than Derek and I climb to the very edge of the one mile deep canyon just for photos. I took a picture of one guy who I thought for sure would be the Grand Canyon’s next victim, as there was about two inches from him and his version of the afterlife. I don’t know if he survived or not because we left before he did. When the sun went, so did any warmth, and the cold enveloped us along with twilight. We hadn’t brought a flashlight with us and were hoping to hike the 1.5 miles back before total darkness. We hiked 2/3 of the way there before full night overtook us, and luckily, the moon lit our path enough that we found our way back to camp.

Something about the extreme cold, the sight of the canyon, or perhaps simply having rid my body of whatever it didn’t like (and then some), left me feeling refreshed. We built a fire and I was able to eat a hotdog and marshmallows (in fact, I was quite ravenous). We even painted with light a little bit. Then we huddled together for warmth in our tent. With thermal underwear, wool socks, three layers including coat, and Derek and I burrowed together, I was warm enough to sleep (but just barely). The cold was a lingering presence at the corners of sleep, and any turn in the night reminded us of that.

I woke the next morning feeling 100% better and healthy. Not only did I not feel nauseous, but the remains of my hacking cough seemed to have gone, and my shoulder felt healed. I was a new person! Don’t worry mom. Unlike most times I arrive on your doorstep, destroyed after too much travel and needing to be pieced back together, on this trip, I’m getting the bad stuff out early, piecing MYSELF back together, and returning to you whole.

Captions:

1. Breakfast in Seligman
2. Grand Canyon at Yavapai Point. Pictured is a crazy man taking photos too close to the edge.

3. A couple sharing a wintery kiss at the Canyon.

4. Derek at the Canyon.

5. Nighttime photos at our campsite.

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