June 12, 2003
Day 3
Distance: 3 miles
Destination: Round-trip to Plateau Point, back to Indian Gardens

My day began at first light without a watch or alarm. I woke up just as the stars were beginning to fade. All I had to do was put on my socks and boots, and grab a water bottle, and I was off to Plateau Point. From Indian Gardens to just before my destination, I pretended I was alone in the Canyon, stopping every so often to scan the slopes and listen to the "shhhh" of the Colorado River, growing louder as I moved towards the rim of the Inner Gorge and the 1000-foot drop to the blue-green ribbon of water. So different its personality is when you're in a raft on that river. Instead of a "shhhh" it's sometimes a roar.

As Plateau Point came into view, I saw that I hadn't been the first one up this morning. A couple was already there. I felt a little bad, like I was invading their quiet time, but I continued to the point, leaving as much room between me and them as I could ... which wasn't much at the egde of the cliff. They nodded hello, then resumed their conversation. Like many others I passed yesterday, they were speaking German. I'd also heard French and Spanish, as well as English, Australian and Canadian accents on the hike to Indian Gardens.

Minutes later, the couple left, and I spent a short time alone, sitting cross-legged on the rock, my arms resting on the lower bar of the metal rail just a couple of feet from the edge of a very long way down. I remembered the second time I visited Grand Canyon, the first being when I was twelve, with my mom and dad and at least two dozen others on a tour bus. But the second time was a life-changing experience; I rafted the Colorado in 1995. At the time, I was on vacation from my south-Florida paralegal job. As I sat at the front of the boat, grinning from ear to ear and squealing spontaneously as the raft shot up out of the "hole" in Crystal Rapid, I realized I'd somehow lost track of what made me happy. I felt like I'd been living someone else's life for years. When the trip was over and I returned to Florida, I wrote a letter to Canyoneers, the company I'd traveled with, and pretty much begged for a job. Several months later, I was working for Canyoneers at their remote Kaibab Lodge -- a winter season on Kaibab Plateau, which forms Grand Canyon's northern rim. It was there that I met my future husband, Steve.

As I sat there at Plateau Point, reminiscing, I heard footsteps crunching on the sandy trail behind me. Della, the ranger, was out for a morning jog. (The trail to Plateau Point is generally flat -- rolling, more like -- compared to the other trails of the Canyon.) Della took a break, and we chatted for a while. Among other things, I learned that the California Condor was released at Vermillion Cliffs in 1996, but still has not successfully reproduced in the wild.

Della headed back, and I soon followed when the sun cleared the top of a silhouetted spire. Immediately, I felt the rise in the temperature. I was back in the shade of the cottonwood trees maybe forty minutes later, as most other campers were getting up.

After breakfast, I did some reading -- a Grand Canyon natural history guide on loan from Della -- then took a nap. I awoke as the shade moved off my tent, pushed away by the hot sun. So I relocated to the covered picnic table, where I now sit, scribbling and watching lizards go about their business, which they seem to have a lot of, listening to the ciccadas click, and watching the mule trains clomp by, laden with chattering people. I'd never realized how many mules make that hike each day!

Well, time to stop writing for a bit and once again go find a seat by the creek, where I'll soak my feet and think about the next book. There's a story brewing in my brain. I just need to sit back and watch the mental movie in order to figure out what exactly that story is. This is so much fun!

--Ramkitten