Hovering like birds over the Grand Canyon we admire the best of all views in the American West, some say the whole world.
As the helicopter pilot drops down below the canyon rim where the grass and the land of the southern rim fall away, miles down,
miles across, as far as our eyes can see, it’s only canyon and sky. At the bottom of the canyon we are in a geological time
machine, looking down through rocky layers for at least a billion and a half years.
Native Americans lived in what is now the Grand Canyon National Park at least 4,000 years ago. One-armed John Wesley
Powell with his scientific expedition to map the Colorado River came through in 1869. It took Powell and his group more than three
weeks to travel the 277 miles over the Grand Canyon’s rough and rapids-filled waters in rickety wooden boats. I thought of them, as
we soared above the Grand Canyon’s Dragon Corridor.
We arrived at the canyon on a Grand Canyon Railway vintage railcar that is pulled daily by a locomotive from Williams
Depot, www.thetrain.com. In 1901, the first of these trains was pulled by an Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe steam engine. On our
64-mile journey, high desert vistas changed into pine forests as, outside out window, the mule, elk and antelope played. All
conversation and window gazing stopped, though, when the masked robber, wanting diamonds and gold, pointed his pistol at us. The
sheriff came by, too, but too late for us. We got robbed anyway to the delight of everyone.
But we didn’t just travel by train on our travels in northern Arizona, we also lounged on one of the hundreds of
well-appointed houseboats on Lake Powell, www.lakepowell.com, northeast of the Grand Canyon. Imagine a three- or four-bedroom house
with a full kitchen and dining area, a couple of bathrooms, a balcony on top, a large outdoor deck and a big steering wheel — just
floating on the water. Max speed 7 mph. And ours was one of the smaller houseboats. It’s no wonder families rent these houseboats
for weeks at a time. Boats of all sizes are available for a fee every season.
This lake with its nearly 2,000 miles of shoreline was formed in the early 1960s when Glen Canyon, yet another
breathtaking canyon cut by the pounding waters of the Colorado River over the millennia, was filled with water because of the
construction of the Glen Canyon Dam. The towering red walls of Glen Canyon, streaked with their shades of gold and mauve, jut out
of the water in stark contrast to the blue of the lake that is hundreds of feet deep. The summertime depth of Lake Powell changes
every year, creating new shorelines. More coves here, a longer canyon there, new beaches everywhere.
The town of Page, a gateway to the south end of Lake Powell, is also home to the John Wesley Powell Memorial Museum.
Nearby at the water’s edge is the recently renovated and renamed Lake Powell Resort. Not only were the views of the lake and the
red buttes stunning from the windows of the resort’s Rainbow Room, but also our dinner there was reminiscent of big city,
multi-starred dining rooms with service to match. Tasmanian king salmon that tasted like it had just been pulled out of the sea and
spicy tuna tartar to rival any that we’ve had in Japan. And two other courses and fine wines to remember fondly.
Back on dry land we found what many call the Mother Road. US Route 66, until the beginnings of the interstate highways in
the late 1950s, was the main road between Chicago and Los Angeles. All 2,347 miles of it with its motor inns, filling stations and
all-night diners. Signs in the windows advertised favorites such as cherry pie a la mode and milkshakes made with real milk and
genuine ice cream. Deluxe bacon burgers and dreamy creamy potato salad, so called because it had both mayo and sour cream, were
listed on many roadside menus. Route 66 road markers can still be found in most of the states along the route, though more of the
original road can be found in Arizona.
Williams and Flagstaff with their train tracks and mid-20th century building facades are on historic Route 66. Flagstaff
got its name from a tall, stripped pine that served as a flagpole and trail marker in the late 1870s. That trail later became Route
66. The privately funded Lowell Observatory is in Flagstaff, placed here because of the clear night sky. The observatory is best
known as the place where, in 1930, Clyde Tombaugh discovered Pluto, the smallest planet, after months of studying the movements of
celestial bodies.
Our helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon was in a Maverick, www.maverickhelicopter.com. My regret is that we didn’t sign
up for a longer ride. In retrospect the moments hovering over the canyon were some of the best of the trip. For information about
Page, Williams and Flagstaff, see www.arizonarocks.com. For a description of Arizona’s 21 Native American tribes, the most of any
state in the United States, see www.arizonaguide.com/nativeAmerican.asp.
By journey’s end we had traveled hundreds of miles over five days through northern Arizona in our luxurious leather
captain’s chairs in a Detours Off the Beaten Path van, www.detoursaz.com, 1-866-438-6877. The miles flew by as our guide, Jeff,
regaled us with stories of Arizona and we memorized the visual glory that is the American West where the skies are not cloudy all
day.
