Gigi, Geronimo, Patrick, Vanessa, Zachary, Nathalie. Grand Canyon National Park, AZ. February 5 2017
A deep curiousity about Arizona and its diverse landscape was one deciding factor of what, mind the pun, drove us to make this journey. We arrived in the state a few days ago, but are now in Utah since we’ve been exploring and socializing so much that I’ve hardly had time to post an update.
As an aside: The United States, and the world, are feeling (and certainly are) tumultuous right now. I am trying to both be consciously active of this and still revel in the landscapes that we came here to explore, so I hope that these tidbits of travel news do not trivialize the unrest that surrounds us. I am always listening.
A New Friend, A New View. Grand Canyon National Park, AZ. February 4 2017
We traveled by way of the Guadalupe mountains in New Mexico, through Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Sedona, Grand Canyon National Park, and tonight, Zion National Park. In Santa Fe, we crashed at an Airbnb hosted by two super friendly young guys, one an actor, the other a developer. The former was on a few episodes of HBO’s Better Call Saul, which we found downright hysterical being in New Mexico and all. After a few pizzas, bottles of wine, and rounds of Cards Against Humanity, we became fast friends. Zach and I wandered around town the next day, and then set off towards the mountains.
We didn’t see Albuquerque at all because we were stuck in traffic attempting to escape it for two hours. Small setback.
Flagstaff is a great little town—a “drinking town with a skiing problem” as noted by a friend of mine who once decided to stay there for an entire year after his bike broke down mid-road trip. He recommended we drive down the 89a to Sedona (coined “the little Grand Canyon”). We spent the night there at a lush campground next to a trout-filled creek, the US $22 price tag thankfully including the most eccentric, anecdote-filled and wonderful “camp host” I have or ever will meet. That night we shared a bonfire, drank whiskey and played music with a handful of other travelers from all over the States and Canada, and the host gifted me with a javelina skull (fuzzy boar-like creatures that roam these mountains eating prickly pears).
We hesitantly departed our little family in Sedona, opting to continue onward to the Grand Canyon. When we arrived, we weren’t surprised to find that, it being winter, there was only one campsite open and it was otherwise lacking in fellow campers…at first. But we thought hey, we’ll just turn one more corner before settling on a site. And there, parked in all her glory, was a green 1983 Westfalia just like ours. His name is Geronimo. We chatted with its owners, Patrick and Vanessa, over a campfire, and watched the sun rise over the Grand Canyon with them the following morning. It was nothing short of gasp-inducing.
Zach and I walked the Grand Canyon’s South Rim that day, and pondered the possibility that the reason for the park’s popularity is that it’s an easy way to feel like you’ve just climbed a massive mountain with minimal (and I mean stepping-out-of-a-bus minimal) effort. All reward and no risk, unless you decide to spend two days venturing into the belly of the beast. At the Grand Canyon, you can go hardcore, or you can be a guppy. Guess which we were?
Last night we watched the Super Bowl in the little town of Page, Arizona, and shared drinks with a friend that we’d run into in both Sedona and the Grand Canyon (traveler’s trajectories tend to be eerily similar). We snuck into a paid campground in town that night, and then left for Zion.
Tonight in the southern region of Zion, as we play with a neighbour’s spunky pitbull, I have a chance to share with you the last five or so days of our journey. By Friday we’ll be in Vegas.