Grand Canyon is an incredible place. Here is Suzanne pointing down at the trail we had hiked years before, wherein lies a tale... I recall fondly the first time we visited here together, 16 years ago. My Lovely Bride (then a newlywed; we had only been married a couple of years) suggested we hike down into the canyon. My recollection (not necessarily shared with You Know Who) is that she also suggested I load up my pack with rocks so that it would be realistic training for when I went hiking in the desert or the mountains. (She suggests an alternative explanation for such foolishness, but as I tell her regularly, "It's my blog.") In any case, we had hiked down the iconic Bright Angel Trail from the South Rim to Indian Garden, a steep 5 miles with a 3,000 ft elevation loss. Then we turned around and hiked back up to the South Rim... when we finished, we were both totally exhausted, more so than after any of my 26.2 mile long marathon races, and I questioned the necessity (and sanity) of carrying a pack weighing 35 lbs, filled with rocks. Suzanne merely laughs when I bring up this topic over wine...
The national park isn't all sheer cliffs and rocks, though. We found these blooming cactus (cacti?) showing off their unique plumage. April is still relatively wet here; don't look for these guys in July or August, though, because you'll be disappointed. "Miss Ensuzyasm" shows her true colors here. Our mountain bike ride was exhilarating, with lots of ups and downs, and kept us on a natural high for almost two hours. Then we met Jan and Bob and adjourned to town for a farewell dinner...
In all that time, I did not see a single soul, only a few flowers, squirrels, lizards and birds, and some very big elk tracks. What a fantastic time to meditate and enjoy solitude (never the same as loneliness, I assure you). There were even some snowy patches up top, but they won't last more than a week or so with the warm weather the area is enjoying.
Our friends Jan and Bob were heading back towards Florida, so we departed Grand Canyon on Friday, headed west on I-40, and arrived in Needles, California, for two nights of admin work and to get a car tire repaired. It had picked up a nail and had a slow leak; a $10 fix here, while a similar repair a few months ago had cost us $26 back home in The Villages. Needles was a fairly bustling town back in the 60s and 70s, being located on Route 66 at the edge of the Mojave Desert. The completion of Interstate 40 back in the 80s resulted in a dwindling of commerce here, and Needles' current claim to fame is that of the highest daily temperatures in the US (and occasionally the entire world), up to 122F in July and August. (A local restaurant has a sign that reads "Needles, 300 miles from Nowhere and 3 feet from Hell." Fortunately, it was a mild 75F today, with a few light rain showers. We took Rudy and Gretchen to t-o-w-n for a w-a-l-k, and here we are on Old Route 66, the main drag, at 7:30 PM, with nary a car in sight in either direction. On the positive side, you can get a fixer-upper house here for a song...




