The Grand Fog

Well, I wasn't going to write about the Grand Canyon adventure, because Brian was supposed to, but he has yet to do so, and it's the only recent adventure I've had that might prove a decent post, so I'll write about it. I am quite sure, however, that my efforts would pale in comparison to anything Brian might cough up about it.

The trip to the Grand Canyon was 'not being planned' for weeks, as far as I know. Last Tuesday night, a group of about 13 of us congregated about the fountain before dispersing into three different cars and setting off for Arizona and adventure.

I was in a car with Peter Borrud, Brian Walton, Lindsey Bruno and Josiah Bultema. The ride up was wonderful. We all discussed ghost stories, demon encounters and alien infiltrations - fantastic things to be talking about while driving through the country in the middle of the night. =) Our ears were also delighted by the sounds of Muse, Damien Rice, and U2, as far as my memory serves me.

We stopped in Needles around 1 in the morning to fill up the gas tanks. We all milled around the gas pumps, trying to wake ourselves up despite the humid air.

We gawked at an elderly woman toddling down the road in her motorized cart - at 1 in the morning! And we also discovered and gushed over a bizarre looking bug that quite graciously let us all snap pictures of it.

After ogling at the bug for several more minutes, and stocking up on Red Bull and Giant Pixie Sticks, we pressed on for the Canyon and glory.

Before reaching our destination, however, we were halted by the grandeur of the stars. The sky was so breath-takingly, overwhelmingly beautiful that we couldn't continue to drive past it without acknowledging and reveling in its wonder. Miles away from the smog and pollution of Los Angeles, the night was packed with pinpricks of light. We pulled off the road onto an exit ramp and rapidly piled out of the cars into the frigid darkness, staring avidly into the heavens. It was truly magnificent standing underneath that vast, diamond-studded blanket, watching shooting stars caress the sky every few seconds. The Big Dipper hung so low in the sky that it felt reachable, touchable even. Venus shone high in the East, and the Milky Way weaved its course amidst the cosmic jewels. It was awesome. There's no other word for it.

The cold finally drove us back into our cars, and we sped on into the night. As we drew closer to the Canyon, the sky was illuminated with shafts of lightening, and it soon began to rain. We reveled in the idea of arriving at the Canyon in the midst of a thunderstorm.

We finally arrived at the Canyon (without having to pay any entrance fees!) around 4:45 a.m. By now it was raining quite hard and the whole landscape was rather gloomy and chilly. But such circumstances could not dampen our spirits.

We bundled out of our cars to 'scout out the trail', in Peter's words. We never did go back to the cars until it was time to leave. We briskly walked the trail in the dark, anxious to reach the rim and see what we would see.

After about a mile, we arrived. And we were awed.

It was gorgeous, mysterious, mystical, even. Everything, absolutely everything was shrouded in mist. Standing at the edge of the canyon, it was like standing at the edge of a new world. For a time, we couldn't see anything, the mist was so thick and heavy.

Then suddenly....

Out of the mists, huge monoliths of stone appeared, floating like ancient islands amidst the clouds.

It was like God was holding a curtain over the Canyon, chuckling to Himself as He revealed tiny parts of it to us, and we danced up and down, pointing and reveling in the grandness of it like 5 year olds at Disneyland.

Yeah, we were really happy.

We trapezed along the South Rim, moving to different spots to see the different areas of the Canyon that God might reveal. At one point, we pulled out the Pixie Sticks we had procured in Needles, and proceeded to down them eagerly. It just seemed to be the thing to do.

After downing the Pixie Sticks in excessive, glorious amounts, we decided that some group photos were in order.

You could say that things were a bit chilly and we were slightly grumpy about it:

But then we decided that happiness was far more attractive:

We then continued down the path, still seeking that flighty temptress called Adventure.

We found a Lodge that provided us with warmth and restrooms. We then trekked back to our cars and immediately discarded our soaked jackets and blasted the heater in order to thaw our limbs and faces.

By now, it was about 7:30 a.m. It takes about 7 hours to get from the Canyon back to Biola, which would put us back at school around 2:30. I had a voice jury that day at 3:45, so arriving at that time was not favorable to me. Peter graciously allowed me to drive his car back to school, with he, Brian and Lindsey safely inside. After stopping for breakfast at McDonald's, nearly everyone fell asleep and I put the pedal to the metal. I averaged at about 105 mph the whole way back. I certainly never dropped below 70. We made it back to Biola a little after 1:45, but not before listening to such awesome music as Sigur Ros, Pete Yorn, Arcade Fire, Creed, and a band from Brian's hometown whose name I can't recall, but who was actually very good.

All in all, it was a marvelous trip. Memories were made, and friendships certainly deepened. How could they not be when stuck in a car with people for 14 hours collectively? =)

Now the summer has come, and we've all gone our respective ways. But I feel it does not need to stay that way. If anything, summer should be a opportunity for some freedom and adventure.

Roadtrip, anyone?

*special thanks to Peter Borrud, who took most of these photos*