Day 16: Grand Canyon

I really don't know how I screwed up my trip planning so much, but I missed my chance to drive to the Canyon and do any hiking. I guess it really doesn't matter anyway, because I don't know how I would I have found the time any earlier in the trip. And really, I'd want to spend more than just a day doing that anyway. (These are the things I have told myself to feel better about this.) I'll go back, I know it.

We woke up Sunday morning to our last Vegas sunset. You could tell it was Grand Canyon day by how much my Clemson T-shirt, jeans, and Northface jacket stood out in the hotel. I was the most plain looking person there, especially since at 6:30AM, some people's night in the casino had not yet ended. Despite my outdoor wear, I could tell I was still in Vegas from the woman in two-inch heels and Louis Vuitton bag on our shuttle bus to the helipad. I knew it didn't really matter what I wore, since we were only going to be on canyon floor for 30 minutes, but it made me feel more like I was doing something. I at least gave up my 30 degree below hiking boots and left them back in the car.

Besides the pilot, I think we were the only people on the helicopter who spoke English. Reassuring... I'm so glad we watched that English-speaking safety video. The pilot asked us if we had ever been on a helicopter before, and I think our "yes" made even him feel a little better. No need to worry, though; it was a perfect flight. There's nothing like taking off in a helicopter. It feels like you're a giant bee, searching the fields for nectar. Our ride there was about an hour, and on the way, we passed over the Hoover Dam, the spot where the brown sediment of the Colorado River flowed into blue-green Lake Mead, an inactive volcano cone, and some beautiful scenery. I don't know how high we were, but it really felt like I was just your average giant standing on my kitchen table looking down. Strange how small things looked, like I could almost reach down and pet the mountains. And they had such interesting variations of color, which you could see so much better from the air. You could also see the imbedded lines from where precipitation regularly made a path down from the mountains and slowly weaved its way, across valleys and flat land, toward the giant Colorado - something you wouldn't be able to decipher as easily from the ground.

Our drop into the canyon was magnificent. To achieve that descent so quickly was quite amazing - the rapid change between the landscape outside the canyon to inside. Once we were in, we were surrounded by steep rocky cliffs that stepped in ledges up to the canyon rim, with the Colorado River zigzagging underneath us. We were flying in American Indian airspace. I can't remember the tribe name, but the section of the canyon that they own is the only space where aircrafts are allowed inside. Therefore, we were only able to go so far before dropping for landing. To land the helicopter right on the floor of the Grand Canyon - a tiny air bug surrounded by the enormity of nature - was a rather surreal experience. And to open the door of the helicopter and step out into this felt even more unbelievable. It was definitely a moment to be savored.

Everyone headed straight for the champagne picnic lunch that our pilot was setting out for us. But we only had thirty minutes on the canyon floor, so I went exploring, saving only about five minutes for my food and bubbly. I found a few interesting rocks to add to my collection, inspected some cacti, and absorbed so much natural beauty.

The shuttle dropped us back at the hotel after our journey, where we picked up our packed rental car and drove back toward Rocinante. We spent a little more time getting her ready for the road again - buying groceries, picking up a few supplies from Home Depot, and repacking the rest of our things. Finally, we were back on the road, and it felt good to be going again - to be moving forward, headed toward something, new places, things unseen.

We didn't drive far our first day back on the road. There weren't many towns with a place to park Rocinante for the night, so we had to stop in Needles, just across the California border. We found dinner at a good local cafe and even got some homemade pie. Their caramel apple and lemon meringe were much better than that famous pie back in Arizona.