After breakfast we checked out a few things around our campsite, including the sad remnants of the previous night's failed fire -- failed only because of wet wood, as Brian keeps pointing out. Can you spot the other curious observer who stopped by to evaluate the ashes and pick up a few graham cracker crumbs??
We also stopped in at the campground's ridiculously cute general store, where I picked up a new hat and some minor provisions. Since we were headed to Zion in the afternoon, where temps were in the high 90's and we would be without a water hook-up, we were particularly concerned with stocking up on H2O.
Once we checked out of the campground, we headed back over to the nearby Grand Canyon Lodge and poked around a little bit. We got an early lunch and wrote a few postcards, including one that actually featured Bryce Canyon, where we were headed later in the trip. Noah decided to write to his Fallbrook grandparents that "We are having fun in Bryce Canyon." We decided to cross our fingers and hope that when the card arrived, that was actually true.
We also walked out the Bright Angel trail, one that I'd seen featured in Sunset Magazine and was eager to try. It didn't disappoint, though Foxy and I hung back from the far outcropping because she was feeling a little timid, and frankly, I was a little freaked out at the idea of keeping three kids away from the edges of the path. Evan, in particular, needed constant supervision; the dude has a crazy propensity to drift to the far edges of a trail and even walk the edges like a balance beam. I gave Brian firm instructions to take both boys by the hands and NOT LET GO, and then Foxy and I took a seat and set about people-watching.
Once the guys returned from the edge, Brian walked the kids back and I set out on my own. At an elevation of about 8,800 feet, it was a physical challenge. But watching some of the other people out there, including some parents pushing their daughter in a wheelchair, gave me a fresh appreciation for my physical capabilities and those of my family.
After that, it was time to hit the road once again and begin the trek to Zion National Park. As we left the North Rim, we stopped to take a photo with the welcome sign. A little backwards, but whatever...
Along the actual journey, we hit a rest stop in the hills and also passed through a town called Fredonia, and that name alone provided many, many minutes of entertainment for our family. Some of you who know us well might remember that we often refer to the kids as "Freds" (it stems from a silly incident when one of the boys called the other a "Joker Fredrickson;" the name stuck as a general family nickname). We debated which child was the mayor of Fredonia, whether we should stop off and see their kin, whether the townsfolk felt incomplete without our kids in residence... you get the idea. Foxy was particularly thrilled when she saw that her compatriots had even taken the trouble to erect a big "F" on the main hill in town.
Fredonia didn't seem to have an actual grocery store, so we waited until the next town, just across the state line, to stop and get a few more groceries and some gas. It also provided us the chance to call the RV rental place and ask if they had any idea why NONE of our appliances or air seemed to be working. Fortunately, they helped us figure out that one of the kids had inadvertently hit a switch that shut off the auxiliary battery. Phew.
We were soon on the road again and before long we hit Zion. I cannot stress enough how amazingly beautiful this place is. It is breathtaking. As hard as I tried, and I tried A LOT, I could not seem to capture its magnificence in photos. I do have some kind of decent attempts in the photos from the next day, and I'll share those in the next post.
For now, I'll leave you with a few shots of our arrival and of Brian and the kids setting up our campsite -- or not setting up, as the case may be. I can't imagine a more spectacular setting for a night under the stars. The boys and Brian even went so far as to sleep in the tent and soak it up all night long.
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