Ah, day three at the grand canyon. We woke up extra early this morning to join a guided hike along the Cedar Ridge trail. One of the park rangers would walk us down and then give a schpeal on the wildlife as well as a brief history of Native Americans. My kind of thing!
Also my kind of thing? Forcing other people to come along with me. Sleep or no sleep, get up people.
When we hopped off the shuttle at the trailhead, we still had a few minutes to spare and wandered around. That’s when we found what is now considered R’s favorite photo, ever. He’s openly admitted to being enamored by it.
But you know I can’t let someone do something without me trying it too. Hello, that’s how I cracked my tailbone, remember?
So I mosied on out there and politely asked R to take my photo too.
This is where we get into the section of the post delicately named “I’m married to a non-photographer.” And by non-photographer, I don’t mean someone who doesn’t like taking photos. I mean someone who just doesn’t take photos.
Get this, he studied in Australia for 6 months and took exactly zero photos.
That still bugs me.
So I handed over the camera and waited the appropriate few minutes for him to find the power button.
I was scared out there on that ledge, my friends. And R managed to capture it.
He also managed to capture the fact that I was wearing granny panties.
Thank you, R.
But man, was it a great view of the trees. I always think of the GC as all rock, no greenery. Nope. Not the case at all.
Little did I know, though, what was lurking in those trees. But I’d soon find out by the park ranger a bit later.
First, though, we had to walk down. And honestly, walking down was a lot harder on the knees than the way up.
Choose your poison: lungs or knees. I’ll choose lungs any day.
So I shoved the camera back into R’s hands and ran ahead so I could nonchalantly have an obviously unposed photo.
No really. I never knew he was taking my picture.
Not even here when I was waving at my brother-in-law while strategically facing into the sunshine for a better shot.
We made it to the checkpoint. It was a little plateau of land with overlooks galore. It was also where our park ranger sat us down for a history and nature lesson.
What he first wanted to talk about was the wildlife and what you might find if you took other trails close by. For instance, up along the rim of those pine trees, you would probably encounter mountain goats. But beware! It’s mating season, so you’ll want to stay clear of them.
And not any sooner after he said the word mating, I turned to look at R.
After soaking in the 180 degree view, we headed back up. Nothing too eventful happened..
Oh wait. Yeah, something did happen.
R almost tumbled to his death.
You see, this trail had been given a grant to fix it up. So along the way, you passed by workers moving stones here and there or even using a jack hammer to break up areas.
It was as we hiked past the jack hammer when it happened. R wanted to slip by as quickly as possible and so hopped onto a slightly slanted rock that hung over the edge of the trail.
It was slow motion. He lost his footing on that rock and slid over the edge, but managed to flip around and grab that same rock with his left pinky finger.
Okay, it wasn’t his pinky. But he wants people to think that. It was only his left hand though.
And it was scary enough for him to say, “Ask me in five minutes” when I asked him whether or not he’s freaking out.
The night ended with a marathon game of dominoes..
…while I marveled at how differently everyone set theirs up. I see four different patterns here. Well, five if you count the table cloth.
It was a great weekend. Lots of outdoor time and no hair-brushing time. My favorite way to spend the weekend.
Okay, my only way to spend the weekend.