It’s been five years since I grasped the metal handrails at Mather Point and stared at the vast canyon rippling out across the horizon. The first years we lived here, we were amateur tour guides to friends checking out our new home in Arizona and wanting to see the Grand Canyon. It’s not that we got bored of it, but after a while, we just stopped going.
Last week, my niece called to ask if I might be willing to drive her and a friend who was visiting from the Midwest to the Grand Canyon for the day. I thought of suggesting they take the shuttle. But the shuttle is expensive for college kids on a budget, plus Aunt Kelly is a pushover. I said yes for many reasons including a) someday my niece may get to choose where I live when I’m elderly, so I better rack up all the points I can right now, and b) I couldn’t imagine her friend being this close and not getting to see it, and finally, c) it’s really cool to show someone the Grand Canyon for the first time.
I got up early that morning, loaded the cooler with water bottles and granola bars, and headed to Flagstaff to pick them up. I found a coupon online for the Grand Canyon IMAX movie that included a mini pizza each and decided it would be a good warmup to the main event. We sat in a nearly empty movie theater, soared above the canyon walls, took stomach-dropping plunges to the bottom, and churned through the Colorado River rapids, all from the safety of our seats.
A short time later, we made it to the national park, reading off license plates from states all over the country as we headed to the trail. “Why is someone wearing a Cookie Monster costume and waving at us?” my niece’s friend asked, pointing at a scruffy-looking blue Muppet ahead. We hurried past the cheesy photo op and headed for the guard rails for a first look at the real deal.
And there it was, miles of splendor, in every color of a muted rainbow, shadows flickering across the rockfaces from the clouds above, deepening the intensity of the color for a few seconds before moving on to highlight another portion of the canyon walls.
All around us, people were posing for photos with the canyon as a backdrop or taking selfies on rock ledges which made me nervous to see them standing out there. One man had his phone on speaker and was scanning it around, giving a video tour to someone back home. “Wow, you’re really there,” the voice said. “It’s so beautiful.”
Voices speaking many different languages swirled by as we walked. It reminded me most folks had traveled more than three hours to be here today. Something I was taking for granted in my backyard might be a once-in-a-lifetime visit for them.
My niece and her friend laughed and posed for photos to share with their friends online. We held tight to the guard rails as we looked over the edge and pointed out all the amazing things we were seeing. Monsoon rains rolled through in the distance, darkening the canyon’s horizon to a purplish-black shadow.
A few streaks of lightning shot through the dark clouds. I snapped away, hoping to capture it on my phone, but never did. The rain picked up, so we hurried towards a building and made it inside before the torrential downpour, idly looking at gift shop swag and milling around with the other soggy visitors while we waited for the rain to stop.
Finally, it did. We took the shuttle to architect Mary Colter’s Lookout Studio and climbed the stairs to the second floor for another view. On our way back to the car, we passed an elk and her baby nibbling on shrubs and watched a hummingbird sipping nectar from a thistle flower.
My niece and her friend settled into the back seat of the car and eventually dozed the last half hour back to NAU, no doubt worn out from the splendor of the day. I drove the final stretch back to Prescott a little tired but incredibly grateful I had said yes to the Grand Canyon one more time.