The Grand Canyon

It was due to an episode of The Brady Bunch, circa mid ‘70s that The Grand Canyon first caught my attention. The Bradys, along with Alice and their station wagon, went on vacation (and being so very worldly, we knew they were just going on holidays) to The Grand Canyon. Mike, Mrs Brady (did she have a name?), six kids and Alice at the rear, on the slowest most stubborn mule of all, rode to the bottom of the Canyon. I recall it being hot and dusty and much grumbling from the perfect Brady clan. So when we discovered The Grand Canyon was a mere 4 hours drive from Phoenix – we just had to go.

We had tumbled out of bed early, pulled on whatever and bundled into the car to get Brianna to the airport for an early flight. Daughter deposited, Sean and I looked at each other and thought, hey, let’s go to the Grand Canyon. So off we went.

After stopping for coffee and a map and four hours of driving, we decided the South Rim loop was the go and headed on into the Grand Canyon National Park. Think back 6 hours when we had tumbled out of bed and pulled on whatever. This happened to be jeans and t-shirts; no accompanying sweaters, jackets, gloves, toques….

And now to a brief lesson in geography - the south rim of The Grand Canyon in above 6 000 feet. This is actually quite high, a height where altitude sickness can come into play and in winter, even in the desert of Arizona, snow can fall. So we arrive at the south rim, the first breath-taking view of the magnificent canyon, clad in t-shirts and this awe-inspiring vista is blanketed in snow. This was not shown on The Brady Bunch. It was supposed to be hot, with desert and mules and dust. And us without sweaters!

Fortunately due to convenient car parks, visitor centers and our stoic Canadian blood, the +7 degrees was quite pleasant and our impression of the Canyon remained one of awe. We did experience a moment of amusement with an Australian couple, fresh off the boat from Sydney. Clad in many layers, including thermals, gloves and beanies, they sat shivering in the cold, aghast by our wanderings in t-shirts. In disbelief, the woman said, but I am here freezing and you are in t-shirts. We shrugged, forgive us, we’re Canadian!