We’d met a Ranger at the South Rim who patiently answered all the questions we couldn’t Google. (No robots, none the robots, remember.)
He seemed quietly delighted as he talked about the subtle nuances of the park and the land, and asked how much more of it we would be able to see during our trip.
“Will you make it to the North Rim, too?”
“We’re planning on being there in a couple of weeks!”
“There’s this bridge on Navajo land up in the canyons. The hot and cold air currents come to the confluence, and the raptors drop off the bridge to coast them. You should go.”
And sitting on the bridge at 5:30am, having found it with our atlas and compass, we grinned at each other. The sun had come up over Marble Canyon. There were mustangs in the distance. Ravens and condors were sailing on the currents. And the landscape rendered my typically chatty self speechless.
Google had nothing on Ranger Rick.