Feb 15, 2007
The reward for reaching the bottom of the Grand Canyon is a sprung bunk to rest your bones on.
And the best bunkhouse stew I’ve ever tasted.
Phantom Ranch on Bright Angel Creek is like a memory of the Garden of Eden. A couple of wild turkeys have decided to roost here, and they come up and greet you like old friends. The ground is richer too, and there are cottonwood trees towering over the general greenery on all sides.
Night falls like a lead blanket. The stars shine colder and brighter than anywhere else. There are constellations I’ve never seen, strange details within the constellations I know.
But the camera can only pick up Colin writing with the headlamp.
The next morning, I roust us out unexplainably early.
We walk along the Colorado as the sun rises over the rim of the canyon.
Climbing out is a 6 1/2 hour slog of exhaustion, especially for me. Colin's marathon training shows, but mercifully he calls many rest stops to drink water and explore.
When we make it out, I can barely stumble back to the car. Luckily, Colin takes the wheel as we speed back to 66, and West.
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