Hiking in the Grand Canyon: A cut above the rest
The Grand Canyon is the most impressive gash in the surface of the planet – and five million visitors flock to it every year. But you can escape the crowds…
You should, they say, look before you leap. The difficulty comes when looking puts you off doing the leaping. I was standing on top of Beaver Falls. Nine metres below, water that had also been on top of the falls a couple of seconds earlier crashed down into a white, frothy cauldron.
“Just jump,” called Gary, already splashing around in the pool below and, as far as I could see, still fully intact. “Just jump,” I muttered: a command to my legs. But whatever the logic, whatever the sense, looking was stopping me leaping.
“Tom Cruise has done it,” Gary shouted, as if that were the ultimate in safety certification. “Tom Cruise has done it,” I added to my legs, as if they’d care. A full minute passed – just looking. And then I was suddenly airborne, the blur of canyon walls flashing past on three sides, tumultuous oblivion rushing up to meet me.
The Grand Canyon is orange – very orange. An orange constant from the valley bottom to the canyon rim, changing only with the sun: terracotta in the shade of the early morning; dazzlingly bright in the midday glare; rich and warm in dusk’s glow.
Five million people turn up at the South Rim every year, pile out of their RVs, unpack electric cool-boxes, camcorders and digi-zooms and get their snaps of one of the seven wonders of the natural world.
After a four-hour drive north of hot, uninspiring Phoenix – hawks circling the freeway in search of road-kill, RVs towing 4WDs, gas-station shops where beef jerky has its own aisle – we spent canyon eve at an all-American motel: waffles for breakfast and a well-thumbed bible in the top drawer.
