Just a typical Sunday afternoon at the Grand Canyon. I'm comfortably lounging in the sun, reading a newsletter from the Rocky Mountain Railroad Club, sipping on a cool beverage. My snacks include the usual fare: some dried fruit, Beer Nuts and almonds, a Clif Bar (try one, they're fabulous), and a Mrs. Field's chocolate chip cookie. The main course, of course, tasty beef jerky. My cellphone gets a signal so it seems appropriate to phone my uncle, who surprisingly is at home, followed by a call to Beaumont to let Mary Ellen know that I am still alive. Ah, what a peaceful setting! Especially since it is being enjoyed on a rock outcropping several thousand feet above the canyon floor at Cape Final.
I think the couple from Georgia who finally disturbed my solitude were as surprised to discover how few people were at this overlook as they were to discover that the one who was had made such a comfortable spot of it. The hike from the trailhead is only 1.6-miles, so this will be a definite place to return to, even if just to relax and catch up on a magazine. The panorama is also extraordinary, quite possibly giving you a 270-degree view of the eastern half of the park. In the distance, a dozen miles or more away, you can even see the Colorado River and a section of rapids frothing things up. What a reminder that the best spots on the North Rim are the ones that very few people see!
This afternoon was made even more special by the fact that since Friday night I have been sick. Finally, something in the employee dining room got the better of me. Maybe the mushroom sauce on the chicken breast or the alfredo sauce on the pasta. Who knows? After dinner, I was suddenly very dizzy and came back to the dorm to lie down. Sleep was in fits and starts, but the funny thing was that I never, to be polite, heaved it up. Saturday morning, I had originally planned to go to Kanab to get my spare tire and do some grocery shopping. How I managed to actually make that trip I don't know, but it involved at least a half dozen stops along the way to doze off and recover a bit of my senses. Although the tire, it turned out, had not arrived, the grocery shopping was a complete success. It would be an understatement to say I was relieved to pull into the parking lot at the dorm and flop down on my bed. It was also later that night during a phone call with my mother that I finally, well, you know..."heave ho!"
To end this on a more positive note, let me tell you about the wildflowers. A week or so ago, you barely noticed them. Today, on the same drive, fields of purple carpet the forest floor on both sides of the highway and when the windows are rolled down you are instantly aware of their fragrance. I stopped to take a few pictures and it reminded me of what you imagine an air freshener should smell like and not what eventually squirts out of the can. Even the cacti were blooming along the trail. Who knew the Grand Canyon was not simply a rocky hole...
Enjoy the 4th! We have a parade!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The truth
The Grand Canyon can be boring. Unless you are working or on some weekend hike, there really is nothing to do. There is nothing to spend money on, save for whatever you might find at the gift shop. There is only one dining room, so the idea of eating out is somewhat limited. They do make an interesting pizza or two in the deli, but since I code all the invoices for the entire property I know the concept of handmade is an illusion. Take one 16-inch pizza crust, spread some sauce, sprinkle some shredded cheese, add pre-sliced pepperonis and there you have it, by the slice or by the whole. I think my favorite place is the general store because they have the greatest variety of snacks and drinks, including Arizona Tea in the giant can. And on a side note, ice is free to employees. I assume they realize we do not have ice machines down in our little corner of the outpost, so we can go to the general store or the EDR and ask for a bag of ice, no charge. (Of course, I have proper ice trays in my fridge and I am enjoying normal cubes in my Reed's Premium Jamaica Style ginger ale!)
All of you know I am not immune to mail ordering food. Fed Ex and dry ice make anything possible these days, so I do have a nice Manchester cheese from Zingerman's in Ann Arbor, MI. That same order also included a round of farm bread infused with tiny bits of smoked bacon. At this altitude, it began to dry out fast, so one night I bought a stick of butter at the general store and had a small feast. My toaster served as a substitute for a real oven and when the snacking was done, I was, pardon the expression, a happy camper. The cheese is still in the fridge, however. I keep forgetting to buy a proper cracker in Kanab at the Food Town.
The two grocery stores in Kanab have actually proven to be quite adequate. The beverage selection is even better than what I could find in Shreveport at Kroger on any given Saturday. And all the other items I've had on my list have been available, too. Well, I cannot find Caribou Coffee granola bars anywhere, but someone bought me two boxes when they were at Wal-Mart in St. George. The liquor and wine selection at the Utah State Liquor Store is quite good, but after splurging on two expensive whites and a bottle of Bailey's, I've barely touched any of them. Frankly, it is not the food or drink that is lacking, it is the atmosphere and service. What I really miss is the joy of dropping a bundle at some fantastic Santa Fe restaurant and then browsing the galleries around the plaza. God knows, when October 22nd arrives, I am going to have a meal at Santacafe that will border on orgiastic and buy a painting just for good measure afterwards.
Meantime, there is one bit of good news. Rick immediately found a new job at the South Rim. His termination here may be the best thing that happened to him. He loves movies and film and at the South Rim there is a wonderful IMAX theater. Guess where he is now employed? He also said the pay is better and the room and board less than here at the North Rim. He misses us, but he really is just 12 miles away. And, of course, despite what I might say, I really do miss having a roommate like Rick. Despite his shortcomings, he was a delight to have around.
Yes, this is sort of a random post, totally unexpected I'm sure, but I felt like admitting that it is not all "summer camp" here at the Grand Canyon. There are times I wonder if I gave up a bit too much of my lifestyle and the friends I shared it with to do this insane thing. At other times, I look in the mirror and say "you always wanted to work in a national park so shut up and make the most of it."
Anyway, thanks always for listening. Back to my New Mexico Magazine and the gourmet food column with the mouthwatering photos!
All of you know I am not immune to mail ordering food. Fed Ex and dry ice make anything possible these days, so I do have a nice Manchester cheese from Zingerman's in Ann Arbor, MI. That same order also included a round of farm bread infused with tiny bits of smoked bacon. At this altitude, it began to dry out fast, so one night I bought a stick of butter at the general store and had a small feast. My toaster served as a substitute for a real oven and when the snacking was done, I was, pardon the expression, a happy camper. The cheese is still in the fridge, however. I keep forgetting to buy a proper cracker in Kanab at the Food Town.
The two grocery stores in Kanab have actually proven to be quite adequate. The beverage selection is even better than what I could find in Shreveport at Kroger on any given Saturday. And all the other items I've had on my list have been available, too. Well, I cannot find Caribou Coffee granola bars anywhere, but someone bought me two boxes when they were at Wal-Mart in St. George. The liquor and wine selection at the Utah State Liquor Store is quite good, but after splurging on two expensive whites and a bottle of Bailey's, I've barely touched any of them. Frankly, it is not the food or drink that is lacking, it is the atmosphere and service. What I really miss is the joy of dropping a bundle at some fantastic Santa Fe restaurant and then browsing the galleries around the plaza. God knows, when October 22nd arrives, I am going to have a meal at Santacafe that will border on orgiastic and buy a painting just for good measure afterwards.
Meantime, there is one bit of good news. Rick immediately found a new job at the South Rim. His termination here may be the best thing that happened to him. He loves movies and film and at the South Rim there is a wonderful IMAX theater. Guess where he is now employed? He also said the pay is better and the room and board less than here at the North Rim. He misses us, but he really is just 12 miles away. And, of course, despite what I might say, I really do miss having a roommate like Rick. Despite his shortcomings, he was a delight to have around.
Yes, this is sort of a random post, totally unexpected I'm sure, but I felt like admitting that it is not all "summer camp" here at the Grand Canyon. There are times I wonder if I gave up a bit too much of my lifestyle and the friends I shared it with to do this insane thing. At other times, I look in the mirror and say "you always wanted to work in a national park so shut up and make the most of it."
Anyway, thanks always for listening. Back to my New Mexico Magazine and the gourmet food column with the mouthwatering photos!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
C'mon, cloud!
What a strange week it has been! I did go to Kanab, UT, last Saturday and the new tires are better than advertised. I hit both grocery stores and while picking up a book for Brody, my housekeeping friend (and adopted kid, essentially), I found the perfect software for my laptop. If you've ever used a National Geographic Trails Illustrated map to hike a national park or recreation area, you know they are the essential guide to have in your backpack. And they are the maps the NPS usually sells at their visitor centers. They are also expensive. So, for 49.95 a pair of CD-ROMs with every major Trails Illustrated national park map at your fingertips was a huge bargain. Of course, you cannot take your Dell on the trail, but each map interfaces with my GPS device and on Sunday it seemed to pass the first test out on the Walhalla Plateau.
Back at the circus, however, it was only the beginning of what would be a bizarre series of events. My roommate has been on a rollercoaster of emotions involving his job, this Ukrainian girl and a variety of other issues I cannot begin to understand, much less describe. Briefly, though, he went through this period where he was so depressed about all those things, he simply gave up on living a normal lifestyle. He would sleep at odd hours, wear the same clothes several days in a row, watch videos for several hours on the computers in the EDR, and...well, let's just say drive me nuts with his personal hygiene and habits. Finally, Monday or Tuesday morning as I was leaving for the office, I told him we were going to discuss our "living arrangement" THAT night. In his hungover stupor, he must have understood because when I came home all his clothes were picked up, his bed was made and as the week progressed he returned to the Rick we all had not seen for several weeks. Friday night, we even enjoyed several drinks at the bar.
Saturday morning, however, for reasons I am still trying to comprehend, he decided to force the issue of remaining in his position in the deli. He came back about 7:30 and told me he was going to talk to the HR manager about a transfer. Apparently, though, it was decided that he would get a permanent transfer. Out the door. Discussing it in any more detail would not be fair to Rick, but I can tell you that after making several phone calls he decided to relocate to the South Rim. And I was to be his ride. Actually, I had volunteered to take him wherever he wanted to go. He had four hours to leave the property, so I assumed we would go to St. George or Page. Somewhere close by, at least. No such luck.
You can see the South Rim's massive complex of lodges, stores, trains, buses, and millions of tourists at night from the veranda. It is akin to looking across some dark emptiness at an amusement park on the other side. After all, it is only 12 miles across. To drive there, however, it is 210. I got back about 9:30. Thankfully, it is only a local call and the phone was ringing when I walked into my now-single room. We were all relieved to discover he found a place to stay and Monday morning he will discuss permanent employment.
Today, I rearranged the room, reorganized my clothes into the extra dresser, cleaned the bathroom to my standards of obsessive compulsiveness, then set out to find a nice spot to relax. That spot was about 3 miles from Point Imperial on an outcropping off the Saddle Mountain Trail. I enjoyed my usual snacks, finished a roll of slides, did a little meditating on the view and then headed back to my Jeep at Point Imperial. Someday I will hike the entire trail, maybe with Brody, but today this would be enough. I also wanted to get home to my once-again single dorm room! Maybe after two roomies, it will finally stay that way.
Oh, and the title of this hastily-written entry? If you've spent three or four hours on some shadeless trail anywhere in the Southwest, it is what you say when you spot what could be your only respite as it drifts toward the afternoon sun. "C'mon, cloud! C'mon!"
Time for bed. Another missive in a few days. I promise.
Back at the circus, however, it was only the beginning of what would be a bizarre series of events. My roommate has been on a rollercoaster of emotions involving his job, this Ukrainian girl and a variety of other issues I cannot begin to understand, much less describe. Briefly, though, he went through this period where he was so depressed about all those things, he simply gave up on living a normal lifestyle. He would sleep at odd hours, wear the same clothes several days in a row, watch videos for several hours on the computers in the EDR, and...well, let's just say drive me nuts with his personal hygiene and habits. Finally, Monday or Tuesday morning as I was leaving for the office, I told him we were going to discuss our "living arrangement" THAT night. In his hungover stupor, he must have understood because when I came home all his clothes were picked up, his bed was made and as the week progressed he returned to the Rick we all had not seen for several weeks. Friday night, we even enjoyed several drinks at the bar.
Saturday morning, however, for reasons I am still trying to comprehend, he decided to force the issue of remaining in his position in the deli. He came back about 7:30 and told me he was going to talk to the HR manager about a transfer. Apparently, though, it was decided that he would get a permanent transfer. Out the door. Discussing it in any more detail would not be fair to Rick, but I can tell you that after making several phone calls he decided to relocate to the South Rim. And I was to be his ride. Actually, I had volunteered to take him wherever he wanted to go. He had four hours to leave the property, so I assumed we would go to St. George or Page. Somewhere close by, at least. No such luck.
You can see the South Rim's massive complex of lodges, stores, trains, buses, and millions of tourists at night from the veranda. It is akin to looking across some dark emptiness at an amusement park on the other side. After all, it is only 12 miles across. To drive there, however, it is 210. I got back about 9:30. Thankfully, it is only a local call and the phone was ringing when I walked into my now-single room. We were all relieved to discover he found a place to stay and Monday morning he will discuss permanent employment.
Today, I rearranged the room, reorganized my clothes into the extra dresser, cleaned the bathroom to my standards of obsessive compulsiveness, then set out to find a nice spot to relax. That spot was about 3 miles from Point Imperial on an outcropping off the Saddle Mountain Trail. I enjoyed my usual snacks, finished a roll of slides, did a little meditating on the view and then headed back to my Jeep at Point Imperial. Someday I will hike the entire trail, maybe with Brody, but today this would be enough. I also wanted to get home to my once-again single dorm room! Maybe after two roomies, it will finally stay that way.
Oh, and the title of this hastily-written entry? If you've spent three or four hours on some shadeless trail anywhere in the Southwest, it is what you say when you spot what could be your only respite as it drifts toward the afternoon sun. "C'mon, cloud! C'mon!"
Time for bed. Another missive in a few days. I promise.
Friday, June 13, 2008
It's Greek to me
I know. It is a Friday night and I am doing laundry in a remarkably quiet dorm while everyone else is at the employee pub or hanging out with friends. For my fraternity brothers, I'm sure that is disappointing to hear. Well, I do have my 1999 Sigma Chi Grand Chapter t-shirt on -- the one held in Scottsdale, appropriately enough -- and I will be up late resolving a credit card issue during the night audit. So, I promise I will work in a drink at the Roughrider Saloon, beforehand.
Actually, the week flew by. Tomorrow, I will head to Kanab to have five new tires installed on my Jeep. Sure, I could have simply replaced the shredded spare, but after a month-and-a-half of horror stories from North Rim veterans, I realized that before the season is over I would have made this trip more than once. The tire dealer suggested that I should go ahead and get the proper wheels and the deal he offered was too difficult to pass up. He also said it was a slightly bigger tire, so I get the benefit of a taller profile in some poor fellow's rearview mirror. Nothing beats knowing the driver in front of you only sees "J E E P" in huge letters right before you run him over!
I will also do the usual grocery shopping and see if a book my friend Brody ordered at the little hiking/camping/outdoor store has arrived. "Into the Wild" is the title. Lunch will be at the Rocking-V, a cafe my manager, Lorraine, recommends highly.
And then it will be Father's Day. I've sent a card, will phone home and because my father has become computer-literate we might even IM each other. I still cannot believe that we have discussions about wireless routers and DSL modems, but better late than never. Right?
I also find the holiday to be much more than it is traditionally to most people. In the last two days, I have been reminded that even though I do not have children of my own, there are, nevertheless, friends, little brothers and several nephews who continue to let me know that they are on this journey with me, no matter how remote it might seem. Through four e-mails they have acknowledged something special about the bond we share as brothers and the role that I play in their lives.
For Mark Glowacz, it will always be about music. Everytime I hum a few bars of "Lie In Our Graves" out on some trail, I see a Chicago Bears jersey on a front porch on Forest Avenue. He may have a second son on the way, but he will always be that smiling sophomore to me.
Kasey Skala turned 27 on Thursday. We met on my birthday in 2000, the day he pledged Sigma Chi at Drake. We have been best friends ever since and I can always count on Kasey to ask me for advice about something that usually tests my mentoring skills when I least expect it, usually by an IM that begins "Got a minute..."
Troy Smith turned 39 on Friday. He is the definition of a Sigma Chi "little brother." The Super Bowl, a motorcycle, his wedding, endless two-man Trivial Pursuits, and, of course, eighteen years ago today, the neatest 21st birthday present I've ever concocted -- birthday wishes from his hero, Troy Aikman.
And then there is Randolph and his brother, Delton, both Sigma Chis and my nephews. I am not sure which aspect I enjoy more. Delton would appreciate how neat I keep my dorm and that I have threatened Rick several times with torture if he doesn't straighten up his pile of clothes and books. He would also appreciate that I look sharp everyday and greet all the staff with a "good morning" befitting someone who is comfortable being on the property in a managerial role. I am sure Hyatt gets nothing less from him, either.
Randolph would appreciate that I am thinking about that drink I am about to have, but he also is very much the legacy among my fraternity of brothers. It was his e-mail tonight that inspired this entry and it was his e-mail that eloquently summed up how important it is to always make the most of every opportunity and never regret doing something completely "out of the box." He also reminded me that he understands how much we both love our brothers and friends and how incomplete our life would be with them or each other.
Having said that, it's time for that drink, Randy Bob. Here's to the North Rim and wherever life's path takes all of us this weekend and each one after that.
Happy Father's Day, everyone, and happy trails!
P.S. The drink was great, the moon was out and a mist covered the entire canyon adding a certain mysterious backdrop to the bats flying about the veranda. Oh, and our night audit project went without a hitch!
Actually, the week flew by. Tomorrow, I will head to Kanab to have five new tires installed on my Jeep. Sure, I could have simply replaced the shredded spare, but after a month-and-a-half of horror stories from North Rim veterans, I realized that before the season is over I would have made this trip more than once. The tire dealer suggested that I should go ahead and get the proper wheels and the deal he offered was too difficult to pass up. He also said it was a slightly bigger tire, so I get the benefit of a taller profile in some poor fellow's rearview mirror. Nothing beats knowing the driver in front of you only sees "J E E P" in huge letters right before you run him over!
I will also do the usual grocery shopping and see if a book my friend Brody ordered at the little hiking/camping/outdoor store has arrived. "Into the Wild" is the title. Lunch will be at the Rocking-V, a cafe my manager, Lorraine, recommends highly.
And then it will be Father's Day. I've sent a card, will phone home and because my father has become computer-literate we might even IM each other. I still cannot believe that we have discussions about wireless routers and DSL modems, but better late than never. Right?
I also find the holiday to be much more than it is traditionally to most people. In the last two days, I have been reminded that even though I do not have children of my own, there are, nevertheless, friends, little brothers and several nephews who continue to let me know that they are on this journey with me, no matter how remote it might seem. Through four e-mails they have acknowledged something special about the bond we share as brothers and the role that I play in their lives.
For Mark Glowacz, it will always be about music. Everytime I hum a few bars of "Lie In Our Graves" out on some trail, I see a Chicago Bears jersey on a front porch on Forest Avenue. He may have a second son on the way, but he will always be that smiling sophomore to me.
Kasey Skala turned 27 on Thursday. We met on my birthday in 2000, the day he pledged Sigma Chi at Drake. We have been best friends ever since and I can always count on Kasey to ask me for advice about something that usually tests my mentoring skills when I least expect it, usually by an IM that begins "Got a minute..."
Troy Smith turned 39 on Friday. He is the definition of a Sigma Chi "little brother." The Super Bowl, a motorcycle, his wedding, endless two-man Trivial Pursuits, and, of course, eighteen years ago today, the neatest 21st birthday present I've ever concocted -- birthday wishes from his hero, Troy Aikman.
And then there is Randolph and his brother, Delton, both Sigma Chis and my nephews. I am not sure which aspect I enjoy more. Delton would appreciate how neat I keep my dorm and that I have threatened Rick several times with torture if he doesn't straighten up his pile of clothes and books. He would also appreciate that I look sharp everyday and greet all the staff with a "good morning" befitting someone who is comfortable being on the property in a managerial role. I am sure Hyatt gets nothing less from him, either.
Randolph would appreciate that I am thinking about that drink I am about to have, but he also is very much the legacy among my fraternity of brothers. It was his e-mail tonight that inspired this entry and it was his e-mail that eloquently summed up how important it is to always make the most of every opportunity and never regret doing something completely "out of the box." He also reminded me that he understands how much we both love our brothers and friends and how incomplete our life would be with them or each other.
Having said that, it's time for that drink, Randy Bob. Here's to the North Rim and wherever life's path takes all of us this weekend and each one after that.
Happy Father's Day, everyone, and happy trails!
P.S. The drink was great, the moon was out and a mist covered the entire canyon adding a certain mysterious backdrop to the bats flying about the veranda. Oh, and our night audit project went without a hitch!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Hidden places
Now that I have been here for more than a month, it has become apparent that the majority of my fellow employees will barely experience what surrounds them. All they care about is watching television, checking their Facebook page, drinking in the pub at night and sleeping. Beyond the visual reminder as they ride to the lodge on the employee shuttle or look out the dining room windows as they wait tables, the magnificent wonder of nature and the opportunity to explore it is of little interest. Many of them are also out of shape, so even if they were interested, it would kill them in the process.
Having shared that observation, let me also suggest that I am very happy to be among the small number of residents who are quite content to have it all to ourselves.
On Saturday, I set out before lunch to find the South Canyon Trail. It is actually in the Kaibab National Forest near the northern border of the national park, but no less scenic than one of the Grand Canyon trails. For some reason, I had a devil of a time finding the trailhead, but after several false starts, I decided to trust my GPS and just blaze a trail down from what appeared to be an opening in the forest and very quickly ran into the real trail and made the best of what time I had left. Eventually, I hit what is labelled as an "aqueduct" on my map and true to the description it was channeling snowmelt down the canyon. The snowmelt also made continuing on the trail impossible so I enjoyed the solitude for a few minutes and then made the climb back out. On the way home, however, the Jeep suffered a catastrophic tire failure, so I am now down to four good ones and a shredded remnant for a spare. Kanab Tire Center is about to get another visit.
Today was another perfect day to explore, but with no spare tire,
I had to choose my spot carefully. So, I returned to the same spot
along the Cape Royal Road I described earlier and hiked the opposite direction along the already-mentioned Ken Patrick Trail. My goal was the trail head intersection with what is now the little-used Old Bright Angel Trail, a route down into the canyon
abandoned years ago when the main trail near the lodge was 
constructed. It would only be 3-miles each way, but what an adventure it would turn out to be. The pine forest dotted with aspens would give way to a very steep set of switchbacks that descended to this absolutely pristine valley of green grasses which then gave way to gently climbing trail up a narrow canyon.
constructed. It would only be 3-miles each way, but what an adventure it would turn out to be. The pine forest dotted with aspens would give way to a very steep set of switchbacks that descended to this absolutely pristine valley of green grasses which then gave way to gently climbing trail up a narrow canyon.And then, as if it was scripted for a motion picture, the trail arrived at Bright Angel Canyon and the goal was in sight. A surveyor in 1902 stood in this same spot and I am certain had the same question. "How do you get from here down to there?" For now, I can say I know how the first hundred yards went, but that was simply to take this photo. To explore the remainder of this now-historic trail, I will need a companion with the same curiosity as mine.
Oh, and one more thing, the echo is terrific at that spot, too!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Brrrrrr! Again!
Indeed, it did. It snowed Wednesday night. June 4th and it snowed! Not just the almost-invisible snow that would excite everyone in Shreveport, but big fat snowflakes that instantly turned everything wintry white. And almost as soon as we were snowbound, today everything was back to normal. What has become fascinating to me is not so much that it snows, but how quickly it snaps back to summer. It's as if some deific weatherman is bored and toys with us at our modest outpost by throwing a climatic curveball when we least expect it.
Rick has also been sick for several days, so his social life has been stymied a bit. I believe he has spent more time in bed the last two days than he has in a week. Where I tend to have a set schedule and routine everyday, he is all over the place in his work hours and when he comes and goes. For someone who prides himself on keeping up with his younger friends, he has made me very aware of my maturity. I know many of my closest and dearest will be shocked to know I am in bed by midnight, every night. And up at 6 a.m!
Today, I also got mail from home. Not the well-organized bi-weekly FedEx package I set up before I got here that allows me to manage all my bills, my role as a managing partner in an LLC in which I am a member, and any other matters that may need to be addressed, but real hand-addressed, postage-stamped mail to the North Rim Post Office. It was just like being at summer camp, but I am now the "53-year-old camper." One letter contained an article about some fellow who tried to hike across the Joshua Tree National Park alone and finally gave up and called his wife on a sat-phone to pick him up. I am taking that as a subtle hint not to try anything beyond a short walk in the woods. The other included all The New Yorker Magazine desktop calendar cartoons for a month and a gift card to Eddie Bauer, both very much appreciated. Actually, when you are at Grand Canyon North Rim Summer Camp any letters from home are nice. I can't wait till family day in August when the folks get to meet my cabin-mates and counselors!
Lights out at 12 p.m. sharp, so I need to have my cookies and juice and read a few pages. Happy camping, everyone!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Treading trodden trails
It has been one month. On April 30th, after one last swing through the grocery store for lip balm (my Mother was right!) and a locking gas cap (my Father was right!), I set out from Page, AZ, into what was a huge unknown. I did not know a soul, had no idea if I would meet any like-minded friends and, most importantly, was concerned that I would be up to the task of whatever the "accounting lead" would be expected to do. The only familiar thing that day was the highway. At least I had driven US-89A many times when I lived in southern Utah and was the "Voice of the Canyonlands."
Saturday night, one month later, at one of the best tables in the dining room, three friends celebrated a birthday and our one month anniversary. Not only have we grown close to each other, but we have become comfortable in our surroundings. Brody, who turned all of 19 on the 31st, is already a housekeeping supervisor with his own radio and handle. He's "H-5," a name we call him with great affection. Rick has easily become one of the deli's most valuable employees. His pizzas are always perfect, but beyond that he has a terrific ability to see the big picture in restaurant management. And as for me, I am thoroughly enjoying my role as the jack-of-all-trades in the entire operation. Not only is the accounting part routine, but being somewhat of an expert in all three lodge software packages and the vending machine guru keeps me from being bored. Did you know that you can "program" a Coke machine using the selection buttons on the front? Valuable knowledge, I can attest!
Ken Patrick was a park ranger here years ago before being transferred to Point Reyes National Seashore, where he was murdered in 1973. One of the least-hiked, but most popular trails is named for him and it is where I spent this weekend's afternoons. The route runs from the North Kaibab trailhead through wooded terrain before crossing the highway to Cape Royal where it begins this almost indescribable rim-hugging jaunt all the way to Point Imperial. Because I worked half-days this weekend, I chose to hike the two parts on separate days. My Saturday excursion began at the tourist-ridden trailhead closest to the lodge. The North Kaibab trailhead is actually a huge parking lot and corral for the popular mule rides. It was overflowing with cars and day visitors, all lounging about in lawn chairs, most of whom probably never set foot down a trail. Once I got on the Ken Patrick that circus quickly disappeared behind me and I had the whole plateau to myself.
On Sunday, I had not intended to resume that hike. Instead, I planned to drive out of the park to a national forest trail, much like last weekend. Something inside, maybe just the late start, however, said I should make a quick U-turn and head out to the trailhead for the rim portion of the Ken Patrick. What a smart decision. The elevations are close to 9000' at points along the trail, but no matter the height, it is the view across the canyon that is awe-inspiring. It is not exaggeration to say you can almost see forever. And the shades of color are something in a watercolorist's dreams. I did not make it to Point Imperial, but I got close enough to know that I will do this one again, probably in the opposite direction. And with a camera. Yes, the one time I decided to hike light, I regretted it.
So, like each weekend before this one, I have had that moment where the realization hit me that this is not a vacation. It wasn't on the Ken Patrick, but I wouldn't blame you for assuming so. It was actually Saturday night before dinner sitting on the long covered front porch of the lodge, enjoying a Jack Daniels sour on the rocks with a squeeze of lime. A few guests were strolling about in the cool night air and a clear, blue sky offset the tans and greens of the lodge. And if you listened closely you'd have heard this voice quietly exclaim "I cannot believe they pay me to do this!"
Saturday night, one month later, at one of the best tables in the dining room, three friends celebrated a birthday and our one month anniversary. Not only have we grown close to each other, but we have become comfortable in our surroundings. Brody, who turned all of 19 on the 31st, is already a housekeeping supervisor with his own radio and handle. He's "H-5," a name we call him with great affection. Rick has easily become one of the deli's most valuable employees. His pizzas are always perfect, but beyond that he has a terrific ability to see the big picture in restaurant management. And as for me, I am thoroughly enjoying my role as the jack-of-all-trades in the entire operation. Not only is the accounting part routine, but being somewhat of an expert in all three lodge software packages and the vending machine guru keeps me from being bored. Did you know that you can "program" a Coke machine using the selection buttons on the front? Valuable knowledge, I can attest!
Ken Patrick was a park ranger here years ago before being transferred to Point Reyes National Seashore, where he was murdered in 1973. One of the least-hiked, but most popular trails is named for him and it is where I spent this weekend's afternoons. The route runs from the North Kaibab trailhead through wooded terrain before crossing the highway to Cape Royal where it begins this almost indescribable rim-hugging jaunt all the way to Point Imperial. Because I worked half-days this weekend, I chose to hike the two parts on separate days. My Saturday excursion began at the tourist-ridden trailhead closest to the lodge. The North Kaibab trailhead is actually a huge parking lot and corral for the popular mule rides. It was overflowing with cars and day visitors, all lounging about in lawn chairs, most of whom probably never set foot down a trail. Once I got on the Ken Patrick that circus quickly disappeared behind me and I had the whole plateau to myself.
On Sunday, I had not intended to resume that hike. Instead, I planned to drive out of the park to a national forest trail, much like last weekend. Something inside, maybe just the late start, however, said I should make a quick U-turn and head out to the trailhead for the rim portion of the Ken Patrick. What a smart decision. The elevations are close to 9000' at points along the trail, but no matter the height, it is the view across the canyon that is awe-inspiring. It is not exaggeration to say you can almost see forever. And the shades of color are something in a watercolorist's dreams. I did not make it to Point Imperial, but I got close enough to know that I will do this one again, probably in the opposite direction. And with a camera. Yes, the one time I decided to hike light, I regretted it.
So, like each weekend before this one, I have had that moment where the realization hit me that this is not a vacation. It wasn't on the Ken Patrick, but I wouldn't blame you for assuming so. It was actually Saturday night before dinner sitting on the long covered front porch of the lodge, enjoying a Jack Daniels sour on the rocks with a squeeze of lime. A few guests were strolling about in the cool night air and a clear, blue sky offset the tans and greens of the lodge. And if you listened closely you'd have heard this voice quietly exclaim "I cannot believe they pay me to do this!"
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