The Grand Canyon

Park entrance, south eastern rim

watching, waiting for the rain to return

Desert Point

Desert Point

Grand indeed

Joey Bag-a-donuts from N.E. Philly took this pic

Shooting west from Tuba City, I had a 60 mile ride to the Grand Canyon. The skies looked ominious and I feared that more inclement weather was heading in, but after about 20 mintues of riding, the blue skies returned. Inside the reservation, there are many Navajo arts and crafts mini markets set up along side the highway, so I decided to pull over and check one out. Oh how I wanted to buy an authentic Navajo bow and arrow...or an Navajo-made tomahawk...I could seriously use one of those. They were all a bit too big to carry along with all my gear and not to mention over priced, so after a little of perusing and chatting with the Navajo artisans, I decided to continue my journey to the Grand Canyon....but first, I asked one of the Navajo's for the weather report...he told me, " The skies look scary, but all will be well, it'll look like it going to rain but it never will..." I thought, well, he's Navajo...he had the sixth sense...he can read the weather patterns better than doppler radar, right? So I removed all of my rain ware, including my rubber pancho and the tarp covering my gear for blue skies and happy days ahead...

Just when i began my ascent into the Grand Canyon, Zeus released the Cracken. The skies turned dark gray, the temperature dropped to a bone chilling 35 degrees and little rain drops began to sprinkle my helmet visor. I thought, "this is only going to get worse." And I was right. By the time I reached the park entrance, I realized that my gas was on empty, so I darted over to the nearest gas station. As soon as I took off the gear from the scooter to reach the tank (the gas tank is inside the seat, and there is gear strapped ontop of the seat...so accessing the gas tank is a 2-3 minute, often annoying process) the Cracken attacked. Rain fell heavier and harder than I'd yet to experience on the trip...followed by hail and huge gusts of wind reaching up to 50 mph. All I had to do was finish fueling the tank, put the seat back down, and snap-in a few strap buckles then I could find some cover...but when your in a situation like that, you're inclined to panic...and panic I did. It seems impossible to fasten a buckle when your getting hit in the face with torrential rain and hail...all I could think about was getting the freakin buckle fastened so I could find cover...and when you're over-trying, you're dying...the exact opposite comes true...it's not fair. Everytime I tried to put the male-end into the female-end, it would come out. Three times I tried and no success...meanwhile I was getting drenched. Finally, I got everything back onto the scooter; but it was too late, I was a soggy noodle.

That day the Cracken would attack in spurts...the weather would be okay for about a half an hour or so, followed by chaos. After the chaos of the first attack, it settled down a bit and I decided to get back on the saddle and ride up to Desert Point Grand Canyon View. Initially I thought, "Okay, the Grand Canyon is just one of those places you have to see...but it'll probably be less than spectacular...like the Alamo or the Duck Rides in Philly...so don't get prematurely excited about it or trust the hype." Well, I was wrong...I wasn't prepared for the sheer size of the canyon...the depth and width were astondingly enormous. There were layers upon layers of sedimentary rock, different earthy colors and shades...but going back to the size, this thing was huge! I asked another tourist to take my picture with the Canyon backdrop behind me. He said, "No problem..and where you from?" I told him New Jersey, orginally. He said, " No kidding...We're from Northeast Philly...I could hear that dirty accent coming out more and more as he now felt more inclined to prove his Philly roots to me. The more he talked, the more it sounded like he had marbles in his mouth...that Philly accent...ah, I missed you. He asked me, "Where in Jersey did you grow up?" I told him Washington Twp. He said, "Get the frig outta here...south philly gardens?...then chuckled." He had the complete Northeast Philly look going...including pressed jeans, white sneakers, and a sweat shirt from the 90's with a B.U.M. equipment logo stamped on the front.

After my run in with the grease balls from the Northeast, I decided to make my way westward to other vista points...but as soon as I started to walk back to the scooter, the Cracken returned. I quickly ran out of the rain and hail and found shelter at the vistor center and cafe. After a long drawn out meal including potato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich ( I was trying to buy time inside, away from the storm) I decided to man-up and put all the rain gear back on and drive through the storm. I have a really hard time with waiting around...I'd rather be moving towards my destination at 2 mph than than sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I should learn to be patient.

When I got to the scooter, there was ice and hail all over the parking lot...after a few brake tests, I decided that all was okay and to move ahead. But things just kept getting worse from there. I ended up riding another 40 miles through the worst crap weather you can imagine. It rained so hard that the percipitation somehow made it's way through my rubber pancho and kevlar suit and into my t-shirt and pants. I kept feeling cold water run down my chest and collect onto my stomach. When I finally pulled over and decided that I had enough abuse, I realized that all my pockets had filled up with water and completely destroyed my electronic devices...including my cell phone, my camera, and my ipod....I discovered that virtually all of my things were soaked (I started to get lazy during my trip and stopped wrapping everything in plastic bags). The Cracken had won and I was defeated. I decided to bite the bullet that night and get a hotel room inside the park...which cost a ridiculous $150...but I had no choice, I was wet...my clothes were wet...even my tent and sleeping bag were soaked. They advertised that all the rooms were booked, yet I somehow got a room.

I spent the next several hours opening all of my things, spreading them out around the room to dry, going to the laundromat and drying all my clothes, and finally submerging my electronics into a bag of white rice to hopefully asorb the moisture. But nothing turned back on. I was camera-less, phone-less, and ipod-less for the next leg of the trip.

I tried my best to stay optimistic and positive but it was difficult...the weather forecast was horrible again for the following day but I just couldn't justify or afford to stay another night. That night I wrapped everthing in plastic bags and prepared to drive to Las Vegas in the morning.