A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter sixteen

s i x t e e n

*

Arjun’s alarm goes off at four in the morning and I grunt into my pillow, praying for an extra couple of hours, but we don’t have the time to waste. After staying up late last night at the canyon, until we had polished off all of the pizza and the sky was too dark for us to see anything anymore, we didn’t have time for a campfire. The s’mores will have to wait.

Today, Sam promises, is our earliest get up, but it’ll be worth it. We’re heading back to the Grand Canyon to watch the sun rise before we get a head start on various hiking trails. He has warned us over and over about how hot it will get, how we can’t risk pushing ourselves on unfamiliar territory.

That is not going to be a problem for me. I checked out the trail map last night and it didn’t take long for me to decide that, no matter what everyone else is doing, I’ll be doing the shortest hike. It’s still a mile, and I know it’ll test me, but I can’t miss the opportunity to climb down into the canyon. Even if only for the photos.

That’s another thing Sam warned us about last night. Apparently a lot of deaths and accidents at the canyon are as a result of photo opportunities gone wrong. One wrong step; a badly-timed jump. It’s a beautiful but deadly place, he keeps telling us.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Arjun says, speaking through a yawn with great effort. “We need to go. Plenty of time to sleep later.”

I grunt again, and then I feel hands on my shoulders. He rolls me onto my back, his face inches from mine.
“Up. Or we leave you here.”

I’m exhausted enough that it’s tempting, but I drag myself out of my sleeping bag and manage to stumble into a hike-appropriate outfit. Pretty much the same thing I’ve worn all week. Shorts and a t-shirt, and slightly thicker socks this time. 

Outside the tent, the sky is pitch black. The sun is nowhere to be seen and I yawn again, my mouth forced so wide it hurts and I have to bend double. Four thirty is an ungodly time. I don’t need to be a believer to know that. Nothing good happens at four thirty, especially not when it was midnight before I finally drifted off to sleep.

“How are you so alive right now?” I ask, my words a sleep-drunk slur.

“I can get by on very little sleep,” he says, herding me towards the centre of our tent circle. “Especially when I know that we’re about to have the experience of a lifetime, and I don’t want to snore my way through it.”

“You don’t snore,” I mumble. “You snuffle, and talk.”

He lets out a quiet, almost indecipherable laugh. “Ok. Well, I don’t want to miss it, so I am wide awake. If you can get your arse in the van now, then feel free to sleep on me later.”

He sure knows how to grab my attention. I try not to let it show.

*

After a quick breakfast of cold croissants and leftover pastries, we head to a different spot for sunrise, closer to the buses that will ferry us to different trailheads. I’m glad to see that this one does have a barrier. Albeit a glass one, which doesn’t help the way my stomach spasms at the sight of the drop.

It’s hard to see much in this murky, pre-dawn light, but I guess that’s the whole point of getting here for sunrise. We get to watch the sky pull back the curtains and shed light on its creations, letting us gaze in awe as the sun fills the canyon with its warm morning glow.

Arjun is pressed right up against the glass barrier, arms dangling over the other side. I join him, ignoring the flip of my belly. This viewing point juts out over the canyon and the glass panel in the floor, which Adedayo is standing over for a photo, is too much for me. But I can do this. I can stand next to Arjun, close enough to feel the warmth of his arm, and I can stare out at the slowly lightening horizon.