The Grand Canyon is everything one might imagine. It’s majestic, it’s otherworldly, it exposes all of earth’s geological history layer by layer, going back a couple of billion years. Placed along the walk are stones, of specific antiquity; they line the path and are labeled with their unique mineral composition and each hunk of rock’s estimated age.
What it also is – is a gigantic traffic jam of people and vehicles. At least that is the way it is at the south entrance to the canyon. There were people there from all over the world, Germans, Aussies, Chinese, Japanese. People from all over the country, north, south, east, and west. Like Yellowstone, my expectation was for a sparsely attended out-of-season attraction, and just like Yellowstone, I was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who happened to decide to visit on the same day that we showed up. By the time Teddie and I left it was so packed that a man waited by our vehicle to claim our parking space. He waited with his car running, for about ten minutes, while I changed my shoes and stored our gear. Our lot was full and park rangers were moving vehicles along who were tempted to park illegally. Each lot I passed on the way out of the park, at about noon, was filled with vehicles, too.
Teddie and I had to walk the paved rim path, which goes on forever, because pets are not allowed on the lower trails. There were not many dogs on the path and Teddie attracted lots of attention. She usually does. Older people will comment, “My dad always had Airedales.” Or, “I had an Airedale; best dog I’ve ever had.” Younger people, who have never seen the breed will say, “Great looking dog. What kind of dog is that.” Over time, I’ve learned to slow down and have a conversation with people about their dogs, mostly about their dog memories. While we were in Los Angeles, CA in the arts district, walking with Aunt Jeanne, she got so tired of it that she would tell me to “. . . get-along and stop schmoozing.”
On the canyon rim walk, as a result, it took us a long time to walk five miles. Teddie is a panter, with all that hair and the high summer temperature, it is no wonder that her tongue was dragging by the end of our walk along the canyon. People actually stopped me and asked me if she would like some of their water. I am intrigued by the way people are so solicitous about animals - as opposed to human beings – I could have been delirious with thirst, staggering on the path, and those same people might have walked right on by be without a care.
Speaking of people. I am amazed by how big some people’s balls are when it comes to demonstrating an indifference to heights. People, presumably without a thought, climbed over small barricades and walked out onto narrow precipices to take a selfie. Really? Some sat down, once they went as far as they wanted to go, hung their legs over the edge, and looked down into the abyss. Seriously? I barely approached the barricades, let alone crossed them; and where there were no barriers, I stayed on the path. Yeah. I am a chicken shit. But I’m a man who knows who he is.
Panoramic view at the beginning of our walk.
