A slight change of plans as will sometimes happen on these long road trips. Instead of leaving Kanab, UT for the main tourist area of the Grand Canyon, we decided to stay one more night (although we changed rooms within the same motel and are no longer in a portable) and travel to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The North Rim is on the opposite side of the canyon from the main Grand Canyon Village (that’s right, the South Rim) and is less frequently visited therefore, somewhat less touristy. The road into this area is also closed during winter.
The vermillion cliffs along the route to the canyon became a deeper and deeper brick red that foretold some of the colour we would encounter within the canyon. We eventually found ourselves in forests of tall thin pines that reminded us of the Princeton area of the Okanagan Valley. We climbed higher and higher up the plateau until the forest opened onto wide meadows glowing with short golden grass. You might expect to see herds of cattle, sheep or deer and they are reported to be home to wild turkeys. But these meadows could, in a previous era, have been home where the buffalo roam.
Sadly, we also drove through miles and miles of burned forest, a fire which probably occurred several years ago judging by the low, green undergrowth.
Once again, when we reached the end of the road, I was breathless, in part because of the altitude (we were about 8,300 feet up) but mainly because of the vista that spread before us. Seeing it in pictures as just about everyone has at one time or another is amazing enough, but in person one feels diminished and humbled by the sheer enormity of this geological wonder. If I were to compare Bryce Canyon with the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, in brief, I would say: Bryce is vertical and The Grand Canyon is horizontal. While Bryce has it’s hoodoos that may, to some, resemble a rusty limestone forest, and to others row upon row of terra cotta warriors, The Grand Canyon is stacked, one layer of colour on top of another fringed with ribbons of trees. Bryce is dry and TGC is wet. As a result of the dryness, there is very little vegetation in Bryce but there are many varieties of trees and shrubs in TGC. Some trees are attached mysteriously to the rock and spread dry brittle fingers toward the sky; but some especially those deeper into the canyon are lusher and give the scene contrast and variety of colour.
Once we had had our fill we returned along the same road (the North Rim is at the end of a dead end road) through the piney forests and across the meadows. Around one bend, there they were – a small herd of buffalo! They were grazing on the golden grass just as I had imagined they would have a century or more ago. There were ten in all - some adults, some young. Constantly grazing, they moved slowly across the meadow under the apparent guidance of one of the elder animals. They appeared cautious stopping to watch us as we watched them. As if by some secret signal, the leader would move forward a little and the group would move with him and continue their grazing. This continual slow migration moved the herd closer to the highway. There was a watering hole on the far side and they appeared to be headed in that direction. Suddenly, one of the larger beasts took a few running steps and turned into the group. They all then turned away from the onlookers who had gathered along the roadside. We were being given the cold shoulder. But, apparently, the leader was willing to try again and the others followed. They stopped again, even closer to the road, heads down, grazing. The leader then separated himself from the herd and walked up the slope and onto the highway. The others didn’t follow. He stopped in the middle of the road, looked from side to side, checked out the cars stopped along the edge of the road and those in the travelling lanes no doubt assessing the wisdom of continuing the trek for a mere drink of water. Not today. And back he went into the group, whispered something to them and they moved ever so slightly back into the meadow.
It’s the little surprises that sometimes make the trip even more memorable.
Until tomorrow . . . .
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