Canyon Days and Cold Nights

Drove four and a half hours from Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon. The road was long and flat, the desert stretching out in every direction. The land rose as we neared the canyon, and then there it was—deep and endless, cut by time. We reached a viewpoint at sunset. The rock burned red in the last light of the day. Met Caroline and Manuel, old friends from Vancouver. Built a fire, cooked dinner, talked. The night was cold, sharp. Slept in the car. Didn’t sleep well.

Morning came slow. The cold held on. We stayed in our bags longer than we should have, waiting for the sun to do its work. Finally, we rose and walked part of the South Kaibab Trail with Manuel. The trail dropped fast, the canyon swallowing us. The air was clear, the views good. In the afternoon, we drove to another viewpoint. I don’t remember the name. The sun set, gold and amber. Made coffee. It was strong and hot, and we drank it as the light faded. Had dinner at We Make Pizza, then another fire with Caroline and Manuel. The night was warmer. The fire felt good.

In the morning, coffee at a place called Bikes and Coffee. Good coffee. Hiked the Bright Angel Trail. The descent was steady, the rock rising high on either side. Near the top, my knee went out. It could have been worse. Another coffee, a latte this time. Then we left the canyon. Stopped at the Watchtower Lookout for sunset. The sky was clear, the canyon vast. We watched in silence as the last light disappeared. Then we got in the car and drove.