Fear the Crab

We arrived in Las Vegas on Tuesday evening (26 May), late enough to do little but eat and shower. Since we were staying at the Main Street Station, we ate at the Triple 7 restaurant. Tried the pale ale, and it wasn’t too bad, except I’m not a big fan of fruity flavors in my beer. I don’t recall what kind of flavor it was supposed to be, as I didn’t spend all my time studying the menu.

The reason for the quick bite and bath was because the next day was our journey to the Grand Canyon. By car. That meant waking early enough to grab some breakfast (at the Garden Court buffet) and wash up before the big road trip. We started driving at around 0700, I think.

The route we planned took us past Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam. We parked there long enough to snap a few photos, but I was really impressed with the new bridge under construction nearby for the Hoover Dam Bypass. Just looking at that arch and the tiny workers climbing it was enough to make me feel like digging my fingers into solid ground.

Supporting arch, under construction

We continued on Route 93 to Kingman, AZ, for the junction to I-40. That’s where I took over as driver for the ~105 mile journey (as the crow flies) to Williams, AZ. I finally noticed the real purpose for the left-lane along this interstate, observing and practicing the true rules of passing semis and slower vehicles. That’s something that has never taken root in HI, but to be honest the infrastructure isn’t very conducive for that.

I also noticed that semis would move from the right lane to the left whenever there was a vehicle on the shoulder. I assume it’s a safety issue, since there’s no point in trying to risk anything with a multi-ton hulk of metal barreling past at 75 miles per hour.

And speaking of miles-per-hour, it was a good wake-up call for me to remain close to that speed limit, thanks to the constant presence of the highway patrol lying in wait to snag everyone that strayed so much as 7-mph over. You’d think that with miles of flat desert, it’d be pretty hard to remain hidden from lead-foot drivers, but the truth appears to be that the Arizona Highway Patrol are all ninjas.

We planned to stop at Williams and switch drivers again, but I was still feeling good so I continued to drive the ~63 miles up Route 64 to the park entrance. Along the way, we stopped at a gas station to freshen up, where I spoke with this Navajo woman about places like Tuba City (where I visited once before, during high school), and bought a Christmas ornament made of clay and horsehair from her.

We went to three different locations along the South Rim. The first was Park Headquarters, mainly because we were trying to find a parking lot that wasn’t crowded. We did find a small walk through some pine forest to the rim for pictures galore, and I was surprised to find that all the trees seemed to click. I have no idea if such noises are caused by the wind, insects, birds, or just settling wood.

The second stop was at Mather Point for the Canyon View Information Plaza, where we experienced first-hand the horrible parking conditions that will hopefully be addressed with the latest construction. Walked around for a bit for more pictures and data on the California Condor, but we didn’t stick around too long. There were too many people to get a good wide-angle shot, much less one uninterrupted by passerby.

The third and final stop was by the El Tovar hotel, which is where I first experienced the Grand Canyon from the same trip to Tuba City. And despite it being my second visit to the place, I still felt the same awe from before to physically see how big the darn thing is.

Back again, bigger and badder, but mostly bigger

There was another large crowd, but subdued enough in movement and volume that we could find some quiet areas to spend some time by ourselves, and simply take in everything before us. Even though it was summer, the canyon is high-enough in altitude that it was a comfortable 70° F with clear skies.

I bought a straw hat from the gift shop. I wanted something I could use later in the trip to keep the sun off my neck (a baseball cap can only do so much), and I’d also have something to use in the yard that I wouldn’t mind getting dirty.

By then it was close to 1430 hours, and we still hadn’t eaten lunch. Ate at a cafeteria-style restaurant near the Park HQ, and at 1500 I resumed my position in the driver’s seat for the journey back to Kingman, where Maile took over. We entered Las Vegas proper at exactly 2000 hours, which thanks to the summer season, was still sunlit enough that we didn’t have to risk driving along a darkened interstate.

So tired at that point, I don’t even remember what we ate for dinner. I think the drive was worth it, though, despite the sore butt and frozen knees. It was the first time for me to ever sit in the car that long, much less actually drive with all the responsibilities and awareness required. Perhaps that’s the same feeling marathoners and cyclists get after a big race, the satisfaction of having accomplished a task of endurance and seeing all the little rewards along the way.

Quote of the day: “Hey, deer!”