It seems wrong to visit the Grand Canyon and not write something about it, especially since I’ve written something about every other national park we visited in the American southwest. But what can I say about this place that hasn’t already been said? Hmm, this seems like an exercise in “finding an angle.”
Here’s my angle then: death and sorrow. Sure, it’s the same angle I used for an article I wrote for Grunge a few years ago, wherein I called the Grand Canyon a “person eating sociopath of a national park,” but let’s just all agree that this particular angle has yet to be overdone. Because this beautiful, vast, hole in the ground is actually an insatiable stomach waiting for people to fall into it. The Grand Canyon is a foul temptress, a wicked harpy, and because I hate evil metaphors that have misogynistic undertones, a billionaire CEO who underpays his workers and then uses the money to launch himself into space.
The Grand Canyon is the most dangerous national park in the United States. An average of 15 to 20 people die there every year. In the weeks before our arrival, there had already been nine fatalities. Last month, a Grand Canyon tourist was killed by a flash flood. Death in the Grand Canyon is so common that it makes the park rangers yawn (just kidding, I’m sure the park rangers are just as horrified about all the death as everyone else). So what’s the deal, Grand Canyon? Maybe you’re just tired of everyone staring at you all the time?
I’m happy to say, though, that our visit was uneventful. We drove around the rim and took pictures. We ate lunch. We visited the weird tower that looks old and cool but was really just designed to look old and cool by some unimaginative modern people. We did not fall from a great height or hike without adequate water or go down the Colorado River in a sweep scow. We did not, god forbid, try to look at the sipapu, and so, we escaped with our lives.
Anyway, enjoy these beautiful if misleading photos and remember: the Grand Canyon hates you and wants you dead.
