Sunrise in the Afternoon

Mary and Becky were going to hike through some concrete forests, so I decided to try a different path.  The McDowell Mountains were calling.  It was pushing 70 F down in the valley, but had been much cooler in the morning, so I was not terribly concerned about scorpions or snakes.

Mary and I discussed attire prior to my departure.  I opted to wear my fleece, though it was unlikely I'd need it.

What a pleasant thought.  "I am here!"
It is good to be anywhere.
Sunrise Peak is at the red dot on the mountain around to the right.

What can this mean?
Is it the grim and persistent harbinger of some evil?
An omen of things to come?

Not the most pastoral and inviting trail,
but the hills beyond exert their pull.

Since I'm having difficulty identifying this bird,
I must have discovered a new species.  Well, new to me, anyway.
I think I'll call it the Yellow throated warbling Arizona finch.

Go past the cactus and turn right.
See the people on the trail?

That's Sunrise Peak up ahead.

Meanwhile, back in the Valley of the Sun,
the infestation of humans goes about its business.

I did not pluck and eat these prickly pears.
I have to believe that near-starvation led to the discovery these are edible,
and supposedly tasty.

These cacti keep the hive of humans largely at bay.

Clearly the gateway to the uplands.

Extremely happy to have a trail, rocky though it may be.

A little elevation lets one see a long way.

Camelback rises before the haze.
Beyond is Phoenix.

Decisions, decisions.

Looking back down past the trail I just traversed toward Camelback and hazy Phoenix.

The trail is guarded by sentinels.

It was quite windy, and significantly colder than the quiet valley had suggested.  

This was one time when it was good to be fleeced.

Mental health is an issue in the Phoenix area.
This crazy man ran past me on the trail.

You always know you're in for a bit of a climb
when the trail marker points vertically.

Looking back onto the McDowell Range from my perch on Sunrise Peak.
I followed the trail to the left to get here.
I wonder where the one to the right goes.

Selfie!
I am sitting perfectly straight up and down.
The horizon moved when the camera captured this shot.

I sat in the lee of the rocky peak, out of the wind and in the warm sun.  It made great sense to relax for awhile and consider the beauty below and beyond.  I think being very tired from the hike made me want to consider the beauty in great detail.  Can't do that too quickly.  Don't want to miss anything.

Looking down onto the lower reaches and Scottsdale on the valley floor.

Looking down from the peak, I saw that I was not the only one enjoying the sun.

A hummingbird popped into view, and disappeared just as quickly
since I could only see him when he flew high enough
to appear against the background of houses.
He did this several times.  See him?

As I sat watching the hummingbird, I head a thunk beside me.
I turned to see this guy.
"Should I just sit and just appreciate him, or turn the camera to capture his image?"
He would have split quickly even without the noise of the mirror.
I now have something in common with Wile E. Coyote.

This guy was also watching the hummingbird.

How far do you think those nearest abodes in the valley below would set you back?
I wouldn't bother asking.

The westerly promontory on Sunrise Peak is a few feet higher and closer to the trail.
When I arrived, two people were there, immersed in the printed word.
I moved to the east in respect for their solitude.
Several other groups came up, looked and left the western bump,
but I sat uninterrupted with my animal friends.

Un-retouched brilliant lichens.
Or perhaps it's a petroglyph.
The boy holds mom's hand on the left and a balloon on the right.

Do rocks get ringworm?

A fellow hiker.

It's great to be able to look back and see the peak just descended.
Hard to do that in the east because the trees get in the way.

Grass in the desert!
There must be a bit of a spring flowing underneath.

Almost back on the flat.
Be careful that the mountain bikers don't run you over.

If you see a blue bag, don't touch it.
Unless, of course, you happen to own the dog responsible.

Happy to have gone up, happy to come back down.

Isn't Life Grand?

We headed north from Flagstaff to the south rim of the Grand Canyon.  The uncooperative sun set prior to our arrival, so we would have to wait to enjoy the view.

Mary lights up El Tovar, our lodging for the night.

The decorations lingered in the lobby,
even after the new year.

Lack of patience on my part made us check out the rim, regardless of the lighting.
It was much darker than this time exposure might make you believe,
but one could certainly begin to appreciate the vastness of the canyon in the starlight.

We arose before the dawn to catch the sunrise.  "Where should we watch from?" we inquired at the desk.  

"You don't have much time.  Take a left at the rim and look for a good spot there."

The lights of El Tovar denote its position on the rim
as the eastern sky brightens.

Without direct sunlight, the canyon appears in shades of mauve.

Unsatisfied with the viewpoint, and realizing that the clerk had no idea who he was dealing with, Mary and I began walking eastward along the rim and past our starting point to get a better view.

As the sky brightens, richer tones appear.

Just prior to sunrise, the snow accents selected strata.

Sunrise!
Though our view of it was blocked,
the brilliant orange light has entered the canyon.

As we walked along the rim,
the illumination increased and a myriad of features appeared.

We continued to walk.
The sun continued to rise.
The canyon continued to unveil itself.

Who needs to see the sun?  The real show is looking to the west as the sunlight descends into the canyon.  The fluid, breathtaking view changed every minute.

The view is spectacular from almost any viewpoint.
Not sure why an icy rock on the edge is preferred by some.

Brilliant!

While certainly nothing to scoff at,
the view toward the northeast, hidden in shadow,
is much less dramatic.

All of these people hopped the "Danger! Do not pass." sign
so that they could get better pictures
and tell everyone about them via cellular connection.

The relief revealed by the oblique angle of the sun

is quite striking.

Not a bad way to start the day.

Which is exactly what this young lady was thinking.

We practically walked into her on our way back to the lodge.

This guy wondered by a little later.

Though wild, I think maybe they've seen humans before.

He comes closer.

And closer yet.

What you lookin' at?

We saw this guy later.
He appeared to be a loner.

We returned to the lodge after our elk encounter.  It's not often that we walk 4 miles before breakfast.

We retreated to the lodge for a fine meal.
The picture windows provide a teaser view.

The festive moose preferred watching the people go by.

Later in the day, we explored new vantage points along the south rim.

The rocks often took on different looks depending upon viewing angle.

But all were amazing.

A brief rest refreshes one's enjoyment of the spectacle.

A colorful image beyond the shadow of the photographer.

Crazy people walk off the path to the edge
in search of the perfect selfie.

Along the path are markers and rock samples
corresponding to the formation of the canyon.

You wouldn't think a marker would last that long.

Dimes are embedded to indicate the passage of 10 Million years.

What do you suppose pennies indicate?

This Mexican Jay would not tell me,
in his language or mine.

A new perspective from farther west.
We drove to different viewpoints.

"Grand" seems insufficient.  The canyon is overwhelming.  It is stupendous.  The Magnificent Canyon.  The Incredible Canyon.  The Absolutely Amazing Geologically Gargantuan Gorge. 

Its visage is too close to infinite to for the finite mind to fully grasp.

Looking back toward El Tovar.
Much more snow remains where the sunlight does not touch.

You may not be able to read this sign.
It says, "If you're standing close enough to read this sign,
you could have one short and thrilling experience left."

I'd never take little kids here.  One foolish move could remove the possibility of any more.  No second chance.  I'm surprised Mary let me come to the canyon.  Hmmm...

Different positions along the rim provide differing appreciation of features.

Like the Colorado River.

Way, way down there.

Working hard to make the canyon ever deeper.

It may not look like much from up top,
but I don't think I'd want to paddle my kayak through this.

It would have been more appropriate if Mary had taken this photo.

It is an interesting stone building that was constructed 100 years ago
so that the park service could convert it into a gift shop.

But it is impressive, even with tchotchkes.

Hermit's Rest remains the figurative jumping off point for treks down into the gorge.

And speaking of jumping off points...

"Yes," a Ranger told us.  "We have to go retrieve a few bodies every year.  Annoying and messy.  But more are from heat stroke than falling.  It gets really hot in the summer."

Don't you want to take the trail down?

Maybe on a burro?

I've seen it.  Cross the Grand Canyon off the list.  Very, very impressive, but I don't know that I feel the need to return.  Unless, of course, I can convince Mary that a Colorado River rafting trip would be fun...