Ah, yes: Friday morning.
After a few good hours of sleep, we bravely decided it was time to take our freak show of stupid on the road. "Let's see what is so grand about a canyon anyway!", we shouted. And just like that, it was off to more adventure.
I learned something about Arizona that day. I'm pretty sure some idiot part of my brain already knew this from all the geology specials I watch (I'm not joking), but it's not until you experience it first hand that you truly appreciate the significance behind it: The grand canyon is many thousands of feet above sea level. Many, many thousands.
We leave Phoenix around 11:30 or so and after a quick brunch, we were on the road. June in Phoenix, at noon, is a hot place to be. We were singing the desert mantra - T-shirt and shorts for everyone; pass the sun screen, I'm getting burned through my shirt - you know, all the familiar refrains until we got about 3000 feet above sea level. Then, it started getting cloudy.
What the hell is going on here? It was about 95 in Phoenix (give or take 10 meaningless degrees that did nothing to change the feel of the place) and now it was low 80s if we were lucky (and at this point, 10 degrees started making a difference). No problem with that though, still a beautiful day, if not a little overcast. Goddamn though, these hills just keep on coming. It was like that famous line from Ghostbusters ("Where do these stairs go?" in case you were wondering which famous line from Ghostbusters).
And up and up they went. 5000 feet. 6000 feet. 7000 feet.
In a lesser vehicle, this might have been a perilous drive; but when you have a vehicle with honest to god testicles, well, you can go as fast as you please no matter what the gradient. We went fast. After much cursing at the seemingly unending uphill nature of Arizona, we finally approach the south rim of the grand canyon.
After a brief but confusing discussion with the gate ranger at Grand Canyon National Park ("May I see your yearly park pass? Thank you. Hey, this says Christina. Ok. You'll need to sign it to if I'm going to pretend to believe it's yours. Thank you. Off you go.") we were in. We're driving, we're driving, we're seeing cars parked next to signs that read "No Parking on Shoulder" and we're seeing people walking away from cars they just parked by said signs. It then occurred to us that this might be a good place to park as well.
And boy, was it.
Beautiful. Breath taking. Magnificent. What a glorious hole!
With that formality out of the way, it was off to find a camp site. For future reference, if you want to stay in the park in early June, a reservation is probably a must. If you couldn't be bothered with such formality, there's a perfectly suitable place just seven miles away. Just beware the rocky outcroppings. More on that in a bit.
Time for a plan: we get a camp set up, buy supplies (drinks, ice, and smores ingredients), and then head back to the canyon and for some awesome sunset photos. This is a good plan. And what could possibly go wrong? The camp site is seven miles outside grand canyon national park and directly behind a general store. This is perfect.
A quick stop at the general store yields a haul of beer, wine, graham crackers, chocolate, marshmellows, and a bundle of wood for our soon to be glorious camp fire. Circle round back to the camp site and the nice lady who informs us we're the only people who've committed to camping for the night. This is gonna be a sweet night.
We quickly set up camp and throw the drinks on ice. Sure, our tent wasn't going to win any awards, being held down by rocks in several crucial places, but it was good enough. We survey our domain and it is good; and with plenty of time left to return to the canyon, pick our spot and record what's shaping up to be a lovely sunset. I mean, it had been cloudy all day BUT the clouds finally broke 45 minutes before sunset. This was gonna be pretty!
"Catherine, do us the honor of driving back to the canyon."
"...ok."
We jump in the car, ease back about 8 feet and then...stop moving. Hmm. Well, this probably isn't good. In order to spare you 1000 of my words, here's a photo to best illustrate the situation:
You really need to look close to realize how boned this situation is. Remember those rocky outcroppings I mentioned above? Well, there you go. The low clearance of a mustang frame is awesome for going fast on desert highways but not so much when trying to free yourself from rocks. And if you look closer, you'll notice there's no way to get a jack under there either. Sweet.
Now, I have to give Catherine credit: this was a one in a hundred shot. A few inches to the left, it's a non-issue. A few to the right and we hear the scrape and reverse course with no harm done. But in this particular instance, it's bonesville.
She managed to drive off this particular rock in such a way that we were good and stuck. No sunset for us. But when life closes a door, it opens a window...
AAA to the rescue, sort of. After some slight confusion over what state we were in, followed by some confusion over about our proximity to Grand Canyon National Park, the cavalry arrives.
Catherine, gosh bless her, is waiting patiently by the side of the road for the man she will eventually fall in love with. Me, I'm setting fires and drinking beers. Fuckin eh. It takes almost 2 hours (or was it 3?) for the driver to find his way to our little hole in the valley. No joke though, the fella was a life saver: he was stationed strictly to the park itself. Once my sister started crying though, his heart turned to jelly and he was willing to help us out.
And we were thusly saved.
With the car off the rock, it was time to get stupid. And not just a little.
I'm sitting quietly drinking beers, trying desperately to keep a fire burning in spite of the winds that would have otherwise dwindled out my meager blaze. Catherine comes to join me and promptly realizes (actually, she realized earlier; but for the sake of continuity, I'm going to pretend this happened later) that she has no cork screw. Some days, you can't win.
After a brief jaunt to the general store, we are both on our way to forgetting about the missed opportunities of the recently set sun. The idiocy begins in earnest.
After a few swigs of wine, my sister (the confessed pyrophobe) is looking all over camp for shit to burn. At first, potato chips satiate the beast. Then, knick knacks that we have sitting around our picnic bench. Shrubbery is no match for my sister's firey ambitions. Eventually, and to the tune of Eric Clapton's acoustic version of Layla, everything is fair game.
Food stuffs of all sorts are fed to the flames. Empty beer cans are vanquished in the fires. Empty bottle of wine? Fodder for the flames. There is nothing safe, nothing sacred (except for her purse apparently) with regard to the fire pit we've got going.
I'll spare the rest of the gory details (only because there is enough video of this to spare you my descriptions). The sun is a glimmer on the horizon and all of our expendible supplies have been given to the flames. Day two of our journey is at an end.
It pains me to admit this post took three separate sittings to complete. Fortunately for you (and me), the next post will be about our time in vegas. As we all know, what happens in vegas, stays in vegas barring a court order.
Day two is so surmised. Stay tuned for the stunning conslusion.
Rob
No comments:
Post a Comment