Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

When I peeled the curtains cautiously back at 8:10am, fully expecting to see a magical sunrise, it was with massive relief that my lack of optimism was finally rewarded. Yet another miserable day, incredibly even more miserable than the previous one, was on show – flat, grey clouds and flat, grey light. Only a flat, grey fog draped like a funeral shroud over the tops of the mountains made for anything even slightly different to what I’d turfed myself out for the past few days. I could barely contain my joy.

We took care of breakfast in short time, then headed off for the Grand Canyon, pausing at the Mean Bean for a couple of real coffees instead of the dishwater you get at hotels. While there, watching the rain come down, I noticed it had finally stopped coming down and was instead coming sideways, and occasionally coming up, landing on the windscreen in small, white flecks. It was snowing at Zion. Only just, but snowing all the same.

Heading up through the tunnel on our way back to Orderville it was clear what we had experienced in Springdale was only a fraction of what was happening in the hills – a thick blanket of fresh snow covered Utah Juniper and red rocks, with large clumps of snow, like soap suds, continuing to fall. Ten minutes out of the tunnel we finally found a decent pullout and stopped, taking photographs as the snow continued to fall and the kids finally had an opportunity to get smacked in the head with a proper snowball thrown in anger (by me, mostly), rather than the icy, potentially deadly missiles of a couple of days earlier at Bryce. Half an hour later, faces and hands numb, boots wet, we finally tore ourselves away, set the heater on the car to “rotisserie” and drove through a half-sleet, half snow to Orderville, then Kanab. It was an absolute blast. I’m sure people who live in places where it really snows hate the stuff , but every time I’ve been lucky enough to drive in snow it’s been magic – I love the way the stuff comes in at you sideways as you drive, making you feel as though you’re flying upward into it. Every bit of scenery , from bland to spectacular, is made better by its addition, and the juxtaposition of a desert landscape and a blanket of downy white, as was the case at Zion, is just about impossible to resist.

In time, and with a descent in elevation the magic inevitably disappeared along with the snow as it slowly sublimated to sleet, then finally to thoroughly charmless rain. Darting into Kanab fleetingly for some supplies, we turned east through relatively unspectacular scenery, until finally, descending once again, with the first fingers of Lake Powell extending toward us from the Glen Canyon National Recreational Area I spotted a sign highlighting a dinosaur exhibit, and hung a right into Grand Escalante National Monument, and it’s visitors centre, maybe 10 miles north of Page.

It was a fortuitous decision, for along with an excellent exhibit of dinosaur remains found in the area, we happened to be lucky enough to encounter a talk by Merle Graffam, a largely self-taught paleontologist from the area who happened to discover a fearsome predator armed with 15 inch claws, Nothronychus Graffami. The eponymous Merle was an excellent talker, explaining a brief history of dinosaurs and their now widely-accepted descent into modern birds, in a simple yet unpatronising way that Sir David Attenborough would no doubt approve of. For my mind, the most sobering thought was that modern humans have only been practicing agriculture for around 11,000 years, about the same time that the last ice-age abated. Unfortunately for us, we’ve only got another 8,000 to 9,000 years left before everything in the continental US from Kentucky, northward, is under masses of ice up to several miles thick. His belief was that global warming is likely not having as significant a global impact as many believe, yet is definitely having significant impacts in more localized environments. Who knows – without a hint of sarcasm, maybe the return of the ice-age and global warming will offset one another, to at least some degree. If they don’t, we’d better learn how to grow strawberries in tundra real quick.

We continued on to Page and, a few miles south, found the trail to Horseshoe Bend. After a brief clamber along an undulating path over sand dunes and a rocky path we found ourselves, suddenly and precipitously at the top of sudden, sheer cliff-tops, the Colorado River following a huge, sweeping ben a thousand feet below. As seems to be standard issue, there was the usual smattering of morons all standing on vertiginous, crumbling ledges, acting desperately, thoroughly gnarly and extreme, and at least in part I’d love them to have had a massive and sudden scare. Not death, of course – that would just be perverse, right?  - but maybe just a 50 foot drop, a broken leg, that sort of thing. Still, as I’ve noted before, it appears humans have an innate ability to tempt fate without Fate taking the bait. Thankfully. For the morons, anyway.

We returned to the car, noticing new scratches on the doors that we hoped Budget wouldn’t, and pressed on to the Grand Canyon. I’d been lucky enough to have been here before, back in 2004, but truth be told I’m sure you’d never get bored, or fully come to grips, with the scale of the canyon, nor it’s sensational viewpoints. If anyone ever asks you to nominate the best spot, the correct answer is ‘anywhere’. It’s all awesome, yet unlike almost any other place on the planet, no photo ever comes anywhere near close to doing it justice. I’ve seen photographs of the Grand Canyon by the very best of the world’s photographers, and, to varying degrees, everyone is just wasting their time.

We visited the famed, Mary Coulter designed Watch-House (which is now nearing the completion of an extensive renovation project) at the Desert View lookout, and drove on to Najavo Point, then Lipan Point, crunching about on frosted snow and half-glazed puddles, yet by the time we got to Moran, then Grandview Point it was no longer worth the effort – we didn’t even get out, as a thick fog, aided and abetted by the resurgence of falling snow, had reduced visibility to almost nothing. Still, driving along the Canyon rim at 20 miles an hour, watching for wildlife as the snow slowly piled up on the road was a pretty sensational experience. Still, it was getting dark, the snow fall was becoming heavier, and we were keen to get to our – for once, reserved – hotel room at the very nice Canyon Plaza Hotel, where I’d stayed with my parents years ago at a bargain rate.

Naturally, it didn’t quite work out that way. The Canyon Plaza Hotel had no knowledge of our existence, despite us booking the room on their own website. To make matters worse, the dolt behind the front desk had rooms available, but wouldn’t give one to us at the rate advertised on their own website – I could have actually used my phone to make a booking in the lobby of the damn place, and would have saved $10. In the end we couldn’t be arsed arguing, and drove on to the Red Feather Lodge which had big, warm rooms rooms for nearly $40 less.

My recommendation to you – skip the Canyon Plaza Hotel. That is, unless people from the Canyon Plaza Hotel are reading this and want to get in touch with me to offer me a return trip to Arizona and a free night’s accommodation to make up for it, in which case I’ll shamelessly change my tune.

Sunrise at the Grand Canyon tomorrow. Well, that’s the plan anyway. Here’s hoping.