Apologies for the bulk postings, but with intermittent internet connections and a deep sense of ennui at the end of the day, my discipline in filing dispatches isn’t what it could be.
Friday night on the mountaintop was just spectacular. If I do say so myself, I was able to pull together a pretty good dinner, considering that we were “dry camping” (that’s RV lingo for no hookups – pretty soon I’ll be complaining about imm’grunts and sending a check in to the Fred Thompson for President campaign because them other guys is just too lib’rul).
I made rib eye steaks; red, white and blue United We Stand potatoes; and a dandy succotash that I teased from some old corn on the cob, a wilty carrot and what I am now calling my hannukah onion (which I’ve used in spaghetti sauce, steak hash, and now succotash – and there’s still some left!). This onion will literally last us through the desert, as we are soon to cross Nevada. Let my people go, I say.
Anyway, there something magical about pulling together a good meal in weird places, like the top of a mountain on the rim of the Grand Canyon.
Friday night on the mountaintop was just spectacular. If I do say so myself, I was able to pull together a pretty good dinner, considering that we were “dry camping” (that’s RV lingo for no hookups – pretty soon I’ll be complaining about imm’grunts and sending a check in to the Fred Thompson for President campaign because them other guys is just too lib’rul).
I made rib eye steaks; red, white and blue United We Stand potatoes; and a dandy succotash that I teased from some old corn on the cob, a wilty carrot and what I am now calling my hannukah onion (which I’ve used in spaghetti sauce, steak hash, and now succotash – and there’s still some left!). This onion will literally last us through the desert, as we are soon to cross Nevada. Let my people go, I say.
Anyway, there something magical about pulling together a good meal in weird places, like the top of a mountain on the rim of the Grand Canyon.
Our little spot on the rim.
After dinner, Maggie and I took a walk to the end of the dirt road we’d come in on, and realized that we were standing on a point that jutted out into the canyon, which provided a 270 degree view of the canyon, with the Navajo reservation to the east, and the national park to the south. Not too damn bad, I tell you.
Then we watched the stars blink on almost one by one, and we spotted the big dipper, Cygnus the Swan (I think), and saw a bunch of shooting stars and a satellite.
The next morning we headed back to the Grand Canyon and set out for Cape Royal, in search of more cliché views of the canyon. We got ‘em. This canyon is so frigging big and red and canyon-y that I just can’t do it justice. Photographs don’t either, although here’s one.
Requisite Grand Canyon Shot
You just have to stand there and look out at this big damn hole and shake your head in amazement.
Maggie and I stand there and look in amazement.
We finally headed out, pointed toward Bryce and Zion national parks, pleased that we had given the canyon a reasonably good treatment – lunch in the lodge, a night on the rim, and two-ish days of exploring.
No comments:
Post a Comment