Mr. Write's Page

My first trip to Grand Canyon was in 1994, 15 years ago. I may have mentioned that I was quite taken with the place and  have been a regular visitor ever since.

Over the years, I’ve squeezed in trips to Yosemite, Yellowstone, Bryce, Zion, Arches and other parks, but Grand Canyon has been my Numero Uno vacation destination.

I can’t explain the appeal, exactly. Millions of people visit Grand Canyon, stay for half a day, one day, two days, and are never compelled to return. Why did the Canyon bug bite me?

The closest I can get to an answer is this: every time I go to Grand Canyon and take in whatever panorama is before me, I am overwhelmed. It’s like a religious experience.

No, I don’t hear choirs or anything. But whether I’m hiking, rafting, walking, or gawking, there’s something about Grand Canyon that is both supremely gratifying and deeply humbling. I don’t get that feeling anywhere else.

Normal people don’t understand the appeal. They see a long, deep canyon in the middle of nowhere — impressive, yes, but nothing more.

Pretty regularly, friends and relatives politely inquire why I keep going back to see the same hole in the ground again and again.

I don’t lay the religious experience thing on them. I just reply that Grand Canyon is so big and so multi-faceted that no single human in a single human lifetime could possibly experience all of it.

I tell them I’ll probably keep booking trips until (a) I get tired of it or (b) I’m too old and decrepit to continue.

Coincidentally, I departed the South Rim of Grand Canyon just this morning.

I spent two delightful days there taking photos, walking great distances, observing the menagerie of foreign tourists, taking photos, shopping for souvenirs, dining lavishly, and taking photos.

I also paid a visit to the mule barn and, when no one was looking, harvested several samples of dried mule dropping. These trail souvenirs will be lovingly boxed and given as special gifts to a few select persons on my Christmas list.

But I digress.

When you add up all the river trips and hikes I’ve done in Grand Canyon, I’ve been to the place 20 times. Not bad for a dude who lives in Georgia.

In all candor, I assumed that, except to a few friends and family members, nobody knew that I’ve been here 20 times.

Au contraire, mes amis.

Xanterra Parks & Resorts, the mammoth corporate entity that handles the Grand Canyon visitor services — they know.

I found that out yesterday afternoon when I checked in at the Bright Angel Lodge front desk.

“Last name?” said the clerk.

“Smith.”

“First name?”

“Walter.”

After a long pause, she looked up from the computer screen and said, “Well, you’re quite the frequent visitor, Mr. Smith. How many times have you visited Grand Canyon?”

“Well actually, this is my –”

“No, Don’t tell me — I’ll look it up.”

For several seconds, she focused intently on the screen.

“My goodness!” she said finally. “This is your 20th visit with us!”

When she informed me that the Xanterra computers had that information, I instantly thought about all of the malevolent corporate entities conjured up by Hollywood.

You know — Umbrella Corporation, Cyberdyne, Tyrell, Weyland-Yutani. You would expect those guys* to be keeping an evil corporate eye on you.

Chances are, Xanterra isn’t evil. And I have nothing against them. They’ve never messed up a reservation or given me a hard time. Plus, their computers seem to keep very accurate records.

But it spooked me a little bit to know that someone — anyone — has kept tabs on me for the last 15 years like that.

“Wow,” I said to the clerk. “I had no idea you guys were keeping track of me like that.”

She laughed heartily and said, “Me, either!”

When I arrived at South Rim yesterday, I ate dinner at the Arizona Room, which is a steak house overlooking the rim. I mention it because of the woman who served me. When she seated me, she said I looked familiar; had I been to the canyon before?

I told her I was a regular visitor, to the tune of 20 trips.

“Well,“ she said, “I’ve worked here for 30 years, so the odds are, I’ve served you before. No wonder you look familiar.”

In other words, after 20 trips to this place, someone here finally remembered me.

And that brings up a point that had not occurred to me until now.

It’s true that most people can’t relate to this Grand Canyon thing that has taken hold of me.

But when I visit the place, I know I’ll be in the company of others who’ve also been infected with the Canyon virus.

When I go to Grand Canyon country, I can I.D. the real Canyon people — the kindred spirits — immediately. It’s sort of like gay-dar.

Never mind that there are a thousand tourists for every true believer. I can spot my people every time. On most trips, I’ll cross paths and chat with 10, maybe 20 people about past hikes, raft trips, and future destinations. Very gratifying, indeed.

This morning, with no small amount of sadness, I checked out of the Bright Angel Lodge and paid my tab. As the clerk was adding up the charges, he said pleasantly, “So, was this your first trip to see us, Mr. Smith?”

His name tag read Tony — Nebraska. I told Tony I was a regular. I’d been to Grand Canyon quite a few times.

Then, as an afterthought, I said, “I thought the only people who knew that were family members. But I’m told that Xanterra knows it, too.”

Tony cackled and said, “Oh, you must be the fella from Georgia who’s been here 20 times!”

The front desk at Bright Angel Lodge, a unit of Xanterra Corporation.

* Those guys are the thoroughly despicable companies featured in the Resident Evil, Terminator, Blade Runner, and Alien movies. But you probably knew that.