Feb. 13th, 2011

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Bright Angel Lodge: Some Ungodly Hour. I am awakened by the sound of something scrabbling at the outer wall of Buckey Cabin just outside. I use the opportunity to exercise the plumbing next door, then go back to bed. 

5:53  AM. I am awakened, this time by the bathroom door slamming and the sound of the shower being turned on. Fine, I’m an early riser, I want to watch the sun rise. So I lie in the dark and wait. Clearly the occupant does not come from a place that suffers droughts, or if she does, she damn well does not care, because the water runs. And runs. And runs. At 6:15, I sit up, turn on a light, throw on my yukata, open my room door a hell of a lot more quietly than she did, pad to the toilet-only room directly next to the bath, use it and flush. Twice. At 6:18 the shower turns off. I wait until I hear her leave and a door close back up the hall, then jump in there myself. 

I discover the wall mounted hair dryer in my lodge room does not work. I towel dry as best I can and put it in a pony tail with multiple bands, get dressed, grab my camera and wallet and go outside to watch the sun rise. 

It’s cold, in case you were wondering. Predicted night time temps were in the teens. I am duly hated, gloved and actually feeling pretty good. I’m also not alone. While there are not teeming hordes or anything, there is a small group of early risers of various nationalities clustered along the wall outside the lodge with everything ranging from cell phones to DSLRs. 

My pictures do not, cannot do it justice. I’m out of superlatives. The group of Hispanic women are talking, but fairly quietly. A young blond man positions a small stuffed turtle on the wall and bends down to photograph it with the canyon behind it.  I walk down towards the Bright Angel Trail Head just to see if there are any interesting angles, discover that the Kolb Studio is kinda in the way of the best angle at that time of day and move back toward the lodge. Young Blond Man is still shooting the turtle. I comment that it’s more portable than a garden gnome, he straightens up and explains it belongs to his girlfriend. YBM is from Bavaria. 

I walk up towards the El Tovar hotel and a little ways up the rim trail past the Hopi House because it’s easier to stay warm if I move. Run into a nice couple from Texas, exchange a few words about what a beautiful morning it is, then head back to the Bright Angel Lounge, transformed for the morning into the Bright Angel Coffee House. I get a mocha and an apple and take it outside on the patio to eat. The stone bench is freezing, so I end up standing. 

Back to the room for just a moment to pick up my knapsack and spare camera battery. I sunscreen up, then head west along the Rim Trail. It’s 9 AM.

 You don’t get to be Old, Slow and Fat without Knowing Your Limits. The shuttles aren’t running all the way to Hermit’s Rest at this time of year. The Rim Trail sorta kinda parallels a paved road, but they aren’t always close to one another. And it’s February and there just aren’t a lot of other people out here. I know I can’t trust my left knee, though it has been feeling pretty good in recent weeks. So I figure I’ll see how far I can walk by, say, 10 AM and decide what to do. 

The 0.7 mile stretch from the shuttle stop at the Bright Angel trailhead to Trailview Overlook turns out to be the steepest. I stop at the top to breathe, take off my fleece jacket, take off my Carpe Diem sweat shirt and replace the fleece. Gear re-arranged to my satisfaction, I admire the view, then work my way along some truly vertiginous sections of paved trail. Another 0.7 mile takes me to Maricopa Point. I check my watch. I feel pretty good. I’ve been leapfrogging a few other people – we’re all moving at different paces and stopping at various spots to take pictures. The distance post indicates Powell Point is another 0.5 mile. So off I go. I meet a man there with a very nice dog. I greet the dog, take a couple pictures, then have a well earned drink of water and a sit-down on a Park Service bench. One of the leapfrog groups is about ten feet away. The women want to go on. The man has planted himself on the bench and decided he’s going back to the village. I do the math: the distance between Bright Angel Lodge and Powell Point works out to about 2 miles, so my round trip was 4 miles. This does not include my pre-breakfast wandering, which I honestly didn’t clock, though I did go up the Rim Trail the other way past Verkamp a little bit. And of course, coming back is easier.

 I stop to have a look at the botanical drawing exhibit at the Kolb Studio and poke my nose in the gift shop at Lookout Point. I also figure I’ll scope out the shops at El Tovar, Hopi House and the Verkamp Visitor Center as I’m not ready for lunch yet. ET and HH are both pricy and high end, given that ET is the fanciest of the lodges in the park. Hopi House, designed to mimic a Native American pueblo building, features Native American jewelry, pottery, baskets and blankets. I really, REALLY would love to own some Hopi overlay silver, but not at their prices. I do, however, find THE T shirt for the trip and a small gift for the woman I work with at HH. And I kind of had to throw myself on the magnificent Chinese style American Eagle kite that was on sale at the Verkamp. The box it came in is bigger than the case my hurdy gurdy takes. 

I lunch on the patio outside the Bright Angel Lodge: turkey sandwich, chips, water and a chapter or two of Wolf Hall. I have the afternoon ahead of me. 

I walk down to the shuttle stop at the BA trailhead and ride the loop down to the new GC Visitor Center. The shuttle driver points out several elk and a magnificent buck in the woodsy bits between stops. It’s Sunday afternoon, so the overlook at Mather Point is, well, teeming for February, which means it’s busy, but not the kind of crowd that makes me twitch. 

You know what makes me twitch? The camera toting tourists that have to get as close to the edge as possible? See, if there’s a nice, stout, National Park Service railing between me and the abyss, I’m golden. I’m right out there. If there’s two feet of asphalt, a row of low rocks and not much else between me and the edge, forget it, even if the edge is 20 feet from the trail. 

Not knowing the exact distance, but figuring it’s doable, I hike back from Mather Point. I take my time. I stop and admire the view. I avail myself of NPS benches. I take a picture for a Middle Eastern couple with a baby stroller. I end up having a lovely conversation with a lady from Flagstaff while enjoying one of the benches. I take note of the mildly bewildering array of geological samples along the trail and count my way past brass bench markers that are supposed to represent a march through millions of years. I muse on the fact that any and all steps on any NPS trail or path I have ever been on were designed for people who are a minimum of 7’ tall. 

I get back to BAL at 4-ish. High tea consists of a chocolate shake made with Dreyer’s ice cream, hold the whipped cream.

 Back to the room to put feet up for a bit, put batteries on chargers. Then out to watch the sunset. A couple have dragged chairs out of their cabin and are having a drink and watching the sun go down. I ask to take their picture. They take mine. I admit I honestly wasn’t thinking when I packed the Carpe Diem sweatshirt, but it turned out to be apropos. 

So footsore it’s a little silly, but I figure I’ve done something in the neighborhood of 8 or 9 miles today. Perhaps I’ll sit on the side of the tub for a bit and soak later if no one’s using the bathroom. Not ready to eat dinner quite yet, so I’m writing this.

Flickr is still not happy about accepting uploads from here, so you only get one pic.

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