A Small but Sublime Canyon

Hoodoos in the early morning light, Bryce Canyon
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Our next day on tour consisted of driving from the Grand Canyon National Park to Bryce Canyon National park, not that far north 'as the crow flies', but a long way when you have to drive around one end of the canyon trying to find a spot narrow enough for a bridge.  That spot is at Marble Canyon, and it takes a couple of hours drive from the Grand Canyon to get there.  The bridge itself is 140m above the Colorado River, and we stopped and had lunch there.  The drop in elevation was telling, because it was very hot and sticky.

Bryce Canyon from Bryce Point at 8,300 feet.
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Once we had crossed the Colorado, we then had to make our way back up to Bryce Canyon.  This goes past a little known feature called the Vermillion Cliffs - a stunning set of cliffs which are actually visible from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.  Going this directi I think they are pretty special- but apparently not special enough to stop the car and take a photo because I don't have any.  Going this way means (a) climbing back up to 8,000 ft (2,600m??) and (b) going into Utah.  It's quite funny because the last town in Arizona looks like a real frontier-man town, with plenty of barking hound-dogs and rusting yard cars, while the town immediately over the border (Kanab) is a prim and proper little village with a massive Mormon church taking pride of place.  Say whay you like about the Mormons, they sure know how to make a town look tidy.

The drive up to Bryce canyon hints at what you will see when you get there, but few things really prepare you for the spectacular scene you get when you first approach the canyon rim.  It's a place that will spill superlatives from your mouth like chips from a poorly opened bag.  It's both intriguing (how did it get like that? - erosion) and beautiful (look at the colors!).  To me, it's more accessible (not just by foot, but also just by appreciation) than the Grand Canyon, and because you can take the whole thing in with a sweeping gaze, you can appreciate it.  Whereas the Grand Canyone leaves you bewildered and feeling rather small in the scheme of things.

That night we turned true campers/woodsmen and cooked our dinner in a fire.  First in went the potatoes, wrapped in alfoil.  Then later on came real-mans steaks, nearly an inch thick and large enough to use as a prop in a gore movie.  By the time I was done, I was cooking in the dark using completely unsuitable utensils and running on smell and guesswork.  Nobody was more surprised than I when I produced an edible meal.  Or perhaps it was the sixpack of Guinness that was knocked off during the cooking that was the real secret ingredient.