Greetings from Grand Canyon National Park

I returned to the Grand Canyon a few months after my father passed away. I hiked solo down the crumbling switchbacks below Horseshoe Mesa and across the stark plateau to Hance Rapids. My dad introduced me to the Canyon; as a reluctant teenager we hiked down to Bright Angel campground. Later, for his 70th birthday, our family completed a 12 mile dayhike encompassing the Tonto. Because of my dad, I fell in love with the park and returned year after year, navigating the December snows to reach the North Rim, crossing the Tonto carrying six liters of water, facing fear and loneliness on the Boucher. Each time the park brought me peace and solace. But after my father died, I was adrift. He was my compass, a deeply kind man who loved nature and parks. I sat on the rocks near Hance Rapids, waiting for the magic of the canyon to sink in. I heard the cascading notes of a Canyon wren, a bird my dad loved. I tried to see my dad in the clouds, the river, the layers of the canyon. I thought, for a moment, that I could.

Sincerely,
Mary