But I mean it really snows at the Grand Canyon. I thought, you know, southern rim of the Grand Canyon in Arizona, it’ll be nice and warm so I’ll camp out. Awesome.
It was dark by the time I got to the campground and the campsite itself was covered in two feet of snow. Although I’ve never been camping by myself, I’ve got a decent general idea of how to go about setting up for a night, but I was not prepared for this.
There was a couple from Vancouver preparing space for their car and tent by kicking the snow away, so I tried doing the same at the neighboring campsite. We were the only people at the campground, kicking out space from two feet of snow first for our cars, then for our tents. My gloves were no match for the snowy five degrees, and I took several breaks in the car to rewarm and reevaluate. After two and a half hours, I had my tent propped behind my car, but couldn’t get it staked because the area I had cleaned was (or seemed to be) asphalt. I called Ariella. “It’s way too cold. Can you find me somewhere to stay tonight?" Thunderbird Lodge wasn’t too expensive and the reviews online say that it doesn’t get any closer, so I took my tent apart and shoved it into the back of my car. My room at the lodge was warm, and the next morning, when I came out to where I had parked, I realized that “doesn’t get any closer" meant I had spent the night two hundred feet from the canyon itself. The vast darkness—and possibly my mood—had hidden it from my view. At some point though, during my snow-clearing adventure, I looked up. The nearby sky was spray-painted and even the dimmer stars peeking out from behind the night outnumbered anything I’ve ever seen. Even my shivering foul facedness smiled.
This sounds like a sitcom episode… it’s a good thing you found a safe place to stay. =)