| announcing a look-out point half a mile away along a trail through
| the woods and impulsively I went down, mostly just to get some air.
i The path was slippery and took a long time to traverse, but on the
i way the snow stopped falling and the air felt clean and refreshing.
| Eventually I came to a platform of the rock, marking the edge of
i the canyon. There was no fence to keep you back from the edge, so
j I shuffled cautiously over and looked down, but could see nothing
j but grey soup. A middle-aged couple came along and as we stood
i chatting about what a dispirited experience this was, a miraculous
i thing happened. The fog parted. It just silently drew back. Like a set of
I theatre curtains being opened, and suddenly we saw that we were at
| the edge of a sheer giddying drop of at least a thousand feet. "Jésus!"
| we said and jumped back and ail along the canyon edge you could
i hear people saying "Jésus", like a message being passed down a long
i line. And then for many moments ail was silence, except for the tiny
| fretful shiftings of the snow, because out there in front of us was the
i most awesome, most silencing sight that exists on earth.
i 5 The scale of the Grand Canyon is almost beyond compréhension,
i It is ten miles across, a mile deep, 180 miles long. You could set the
i Empire State Building down in it and still be thousands of feet above
| it. Indeed you could set the whole of Manhattan down inside it and
j you would still be so high above it that buses would be like ants and
i people would be invisible, and not a sound would reach you. The
| thing that gets you - is the silence. The Grand Canyon just swallows
| sound. The sense of space and emptiness is overwhelming. Nothing
i happened out there. Down below you on the canyon floor, far, far,
j away, is the thing that carved it: the Colorado River. It is 300 feet wide,
i but from the canyon's lip it looks thin and insignificant. It looks like
i an old shoelace. Everything is dwarfed by this mighty hole.
i 6 And then, just as swiftly, just as silently as the fog had parted, it
| closed again and the Grand Canyon was a secret once more. I had seen
j it for no more than twenty or thirty seconds, but at least I had seen it.
| Feeling semi-satisfied, I turned around and walked back towards the
i car, content now to move on.
\
'
/
| the woods and impulsively I went down, mostly just to get some air.
i The path was slippery and took a long time to traverse, but on the
i way the snow stopped falling and the air felt clean and refreshing.
| Eventually I came to a platform of the rock, marking the edge of
i the canyon. There was no fence to keep you back from the edge, so
j I shuffled cautiously over and looked down, but could see nothing
j but grey soup. A middle-aged couple came along and as we stood
i chatting about what a dispirited experience this was, a miraculous
i thing happened. The fog parted. It just silently drew back. Like a set of
I theatre curtains being opened, and suddenly we saw that we were at
| the edge of a sheer giddying drop of at least a thousand feet. "Jésus!"
| we said and jumped back and ail along the canyon edge you could
i hear people saying "Jésus", like a message being passed down a long
i line. And then for many moments ail was silence, except for the tiny
| fretful shiftings of the snow, because out there in front of us was the
i most awesome, most silencing sight that exists on earth.
i 5 The scale of the Grand Canyon is almost beyond compréhension,
i It is ten miles across, a mile deep, 180 miles long. You could set the
i Empire State Building down in it and still be thousands of feet above
| it. Indeed you could set the whole of Manhattan down inside it and
j you would still be so high above it that buses would be like ants and
i people would be invisible, and not a sound would reach you. The
| thing that gets you - is the silence. The Grand Canyon just swallows
| sound. The sense of space and emptiness is overwhelming. Nothing
i happened out there. Down below you on the canyon floor, far, far,
j away, is the thing that carved it: the Colorado River. It is 300 feet wide,
i but from the canyon's lip it looks thin and insignificant. It looks like
i an old shoelace. Everything is dwarfed by this mighty hole.
i 6 And then, just as swiftly, just as silently as the fog had parted, it
| closed again and the Grand Canyon was a secret once more. I had seen
j it for no more than twenty or thirty seconds, but at least I had seen it.
| Feeling semi-satisfied, I turned around and walked back towards the
i car, content now to move on.
\
'
/