Captivated Me

“There is a sunrise and sunset every day, and you can choose to be there for it. You can put yourself in the way of beauty.” – Bobbi Lambrecht

My alarm again heralds a new day. 5:20 AM. Sunrise is in just over an hour. I have the age-old debate with myself about whether to hit the snooze button or roll out of this warm, cozy bed. I opt for the former.

5:29. And the extra nine minutes of sleep gave me just the jumpstart I needed to get going. I wake up, layer up – readying to brave the 20-ish degree weather – grab my bagel, clementine, and some leftover peach tea from last night, and start the short walk to my car. Happy-hearted and excited to put myself in the way of beauty, I hope to make the quick 10-minute drive to Yaki Point in time to welcome the sun for the new day.

I arrive at the left hand turn for Yaki Point and discover that it is a shuttle-bus-only route, so I park along Desert View Drive and get ready to walk the one-mile road to the overlook. The sky is just beginning to hint at dawn, and the road looks dark. I recently learned that red light rather than white light helps to spare some night vision. I click on my headlamp to the red setting, and find with silly delight that I have enough light to navigate the path before me while still being able to see a slight way into the distance.

My anticipation grows as I walk – In part because I cannot wait to see the canyon come to life as light rises; in part because I hear the eerie sounds of unknown wildlife beyond my field of vision. My senses are awakened. A squawking bird of some kind sounds like it is soaring across the road ahead of me from left to right. It then seems to fly further into the dense woods to my right, the east. I hear the sounds of howling wolves to the east, distant, and some rustling among the foliage to that side of the road. I hear a screeching chaos in that same direction, then silence. I suddenly feel exposed, aware of how alone I am on this adventure. Aware, and certainly activated in fight or flight, but incredibly alive. I breathe deeply and continue along the road.

As I approach Yaki point, I take a moment to stand at the guardrails near the shuttle bus stop which is currently vacant. The canyon vista is still in shadow, but somehow the shadows evoke an amazing smoky blue-grey color. Dense clouds cover most of the sky overhead, releasing small, graceful snowflakes which float quietly to the ground. Another deep breath, then I venture along the cliffs and rocks lining the rim beyond the guardrail. The canyon seems to extend forever. I find a boulder positioned at the edge of the canyon to sit on for breakfast. My thermos is a welcome, warming comfort for my stinging fingers. I sit and I wait as a masterpiece unfolds.

The sun rises over an eastward ridge, still concealed by clouds, but casting bright rays over the vast canyon. The clouds slowly break open, allowing even more light to pour into the shadows. The tippy-tops of each peak are painted with orange and pink, vibrant color that floats along the canyon as the clouds pass over. Birds fly freely and bravely overhead, singing and playing and bringing joy just by existing. This canyon, this deep and wide space of uncertainty and discovery and beauty, feels like a familiar friend. I feel very much at-home.

I eat breakfast slowly, drinking in the views, then stand and continue along the rim, in awe of how the canyon’s appearance changes from minute to minute as the light toys with its walls. I find the most perfect pine cone and place it in the trusty sunglass compartment in my backpack. Thank you God for this beautiful morning!

After two hours of frolicking, I make my way back to the shuttle stop just as a bus arrives. I hop on board the empty bus to warm my hands, visit and joke with the driver for a brief moment, and learn that there is a scenic trail along the rim back to Desert View Drive where my car is parked. I am thankful for the suggestion – I was otherwise going to simply shuttle to my car. We smile at each other with our eyes, masks secured over our faces as a precaution during this pandemic, and say goodbye. I leave the bus to find the trail, which is only a short distance away. My marveling continues as I walk along a golden path, weaving back and forth toward and away from the canyon. Each time I think I should be accustomed to the views, I approach the rim, and my jaw drops anew.

I slowly find my way to my car and return to Maswik Lodge. Entering my unit, I walk toward the balcony, open the sliding door, and meet two new elk friends who are busy snacking on the trees outside. I sit and watch the peaceful two, who look at me gently then go about their day. I soak up the balcony view a while longer, feel the cool air seeping into my bones, and snuggle turtle-style into my jacket. Checking in with my body and my energy, I decide that a nap is in order. Crawling in to the cozy bed, I am asleep in minutes, grateful to not have any reason to set an alarm.

Light seeps in through the window, and I wake up softly around 10:30AM, refreshed and ready for whatever the rest of the day brings.

I walk to the food court at the Lodge and request some hot water for my thermos from one of the cashiers. She is a cheerful woman, about my age, and when I ask how her morning is going, she smiles and says “I woke up this morning to this beautiful day; so my day is going great!”. I thank her for sharing her joy, hop in my car, mix some instant coffee into my hot water, and set course once again along Desert View Drive.

This is an about 25-mile road extending eastward along the rim from Grand Canyon Village. The drive feels like a journey through a Headspace meditation – Tall pines line both sides of the road, and the canyon peeks through on occasion as you go. This particular day, the sky is blue, the sunlight kisses the trees, the breeze is cool, and Ben Howard and friends sing sweet serenades through Spotify as I drive. My mind wanders. I am reminded of the Uber driver who shuttled me to the airport two days ago. A kind man in his 60s, he had recounted to me the story of his family as we drove. He grew up in Southeast Asia and his family had sought asylum in the United States after the Vietnam War, which his father served in. He shared about his love for travel, about how important it is in life to see new places, explore new spaces, meet new people who are different from you. We heartily agree on this. He had tales from the urban center of Abu Dhabi, the forests of southern China, the rushing Niagara Falls, and more. We talked about how no matter what chaos or confusion pervade the news, we are grateful to have a wildly beautiful world to appreciate, learn about, and take care of. We don’t always have to go far – there are beautiful moments and places and spaces in each seemingly ‘ordinary’ day – but what a gift it can be to adventure more broadly every now and again. This entire trip feels like one great, big, unexpected gift.

After a steady, sweet 20-minute drive, I arrive at a cement barricade demarcating the end of the route, as construction is underway along the final few miles. I turn left into a parking lot. Navajo Point. I get out and look around, stunned at the panoramic views of the easternmost point of the national park. A park guide is there with a darling couple, providing context about this particular point in the canyon. From where we stand, we can see the sands of the sacred Navajo Reservation as we look east. Desert View Watchtower, an overlook point along the eastern edge of the national park, is visible in the distance. The serpentine Colorado River and its beautiful rapids weave in and out of view between the canyon depths. A couple on their honeymoon takes photos. We visit joyfully. Cold, gusting winds take aim at all of us, but we stand transfixed on the views.

I am again struck by the vastness of this canyon. And I am reminded of what the Bible says about the big-ness of God’s love for us. How high, how wide, how deep. I catch my breath, grateful. Blown away.

Over the next four hours, I dot my way along the South Rim heading back west from Navajo Point. Lipan Point, Moran Point and Grandview Point follow. Each location with its own flair, its own unique views, its own sense of awe. I let my heart heal bit by bit, as it has been all year. I allow emotion to come, tearing up and smiling like a giddy schoolgirl more than once at the views. I see the same sweet honeymooning couple along the way, say hello again, and congratulate them anew. I think briefly, sadly, on the past. But thank you God for the healing, forgiveness, growth, ease and renewal that have transpired since then. Eyes on the present and the future, I think of how sweet it will be to share moments, fun, play, laughter, and adventures like this with a special someone some day.

After today’s mini-road trip, my heart continues to overflow. Gratitude. Joy. Hope. Love. I cannot keep them inside. I drive, content, back toward the Lodge, encountering sweet families of deer and elk and horses crossing the road along the way. I park just before sunset and start to make my plan for tomorrow, a 12.2 mile roundtrip hike from Bright Angel Trailhead to Plateau Point and back. Excitedly, I discover that my motel is a short four-minute walk from the trailhead. I take the short walk there to get a sense of the trailhead and the path ahead for tomorrow. As I review the map, three other women planning on performing the same hike approach. We visit, share a laugh at stories of our Grand Canyon escapades so far, wish each other luck on the hike, and part ways.

And although it is just after 7PM, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is going to be an early and exciting one!