The Grand Canyon of Arizona [111]
air will be moist and sultry, somewhat as it is in the East, but this condition is so rare as to cause surprise. Generally the air is dry, and the sun shines warmly, so that "catching cold" is infrequent.
Late Fall Most Pleasant. In my varied experience at the Canyon, I have found the months of September, October, and November most agreeable in spite of an occasional hot day in September. January and March are often perfect months, and while there may be a little (or much) snow on the rim, I regard the winter as the most delightful time for trips into the Canyon. The snow may make the trail slippery and disagreeable for the first mile or so, then one reaches the dry and snowless region where, practically, snow never falls, yet where the heat from radiating rock walls is tempered and subdued by the coolness from the snow above.
May Good for Visitors. May also is a good month for visitors, with more possibilities of agreeable days than February or April, though the warm days begin to come on apace soon after the middle of the month.
Fog in the Canyon. Upon rare occasions, fog banks sink into the Canyon deeps, and even now and again completely hide it from view. Do not let such a sight disappoint you. The fact is, you are being highly favored. If you will but exercise patience, you will see many marvels when the sun begins to work upon the fog. Slowly the great mass begins to show signs of uneasiness; large and small masses become broken off, and struggle as if to ascend; then, stretching apart as one stretches a mass of white cotton-batting, they are speedily dissipated into mist, and disappear. Below, in the deeper reaches, the fog rolls and tosses as if sleeping uneasily in its rocky bed. Great detached masses of rock that the eye had not been able to discern before are now made clear, the white fog behind them revealing their outlines in startling clearness. Indeed a fog may be called "the great revealer of the inner mysteries of the Canyon." It certainly shows forth more of the separating walls and canyons, and the detached buttes, than the most observant can discover in a month, without its presence.
Clouds and Rain. There are times, in August and September, when rain is to be expected, that the whole heavens are patched over with clouds. The sun shines on and through them, and the atmosphere becomes murky and sultry to unpleasantness. Then, suddenly, there is a change in the temperature of the upper air, the moisture is condensed, and refreshing rain falls to cool and cheer the earth that before was parched and thirsty.
A Battle Royal. One morning I watched a battle of the clouds over the Canyon. The wind had been blowing hard all night. About five o'clock I arose, attracted to the rim of the Canyon by a great black cloud that seemed banked up and resting on the north rim, covering, as with a blanket of blackest smoke, the long, visible stretch of the Kaibab Plateau. By and by the sun shot piercing beams of golden glory underneath the cloud, yet, strong and powerful though they were, they could not penetrate the cloud itself. There was the great wall of the Canyon; fierce, fiery, crimson-golden rays shooting in thin streaks above, banked over and pressed down upon by a towering mass of angry clouds. The wind blew strongly and fiercely from the east, bringing fleecy-edged clouds with it. Down in the Canyon the effects were wonderful. The walls reflected the anger of the clouds, and the fire of the sun. Here and there a wall, a tower, or a pinnacle would be lit up with a golden glory, but all around was smoky and forbidding. It even seemed as if a grayish black smoke was ascending from the depths beneath, through which the sun--invisible behind the cloud above--shot lancelike beams, which silvered the smoke and made it a little more gray. On the far western walls, rich purples and reds appeared. Then, suddenly, a soft and fleecy cloud appeared in the clear blue of the morning sky, floating towards me. It was awe-inspiring and yet startling, for it came like a giant battleship, resistlessly and silently shouldering
Late Fall Most Pleasant. In my varied experience at the Canyon, I have found the months of September, October, and November most agreeable in spite of an occasional hot day in September. January and March are often perfect months, and while there may be a little (or much) snow on the rim, I regard the winter as the most delightful time for trips into the Canyon. The snow may make the trail slippery and disagreeable for the first mile or so, then one reaches the dry and snowless region where, practically, snow never falls, yet where the heat from radiating rock walls is tempered and subdued by the coolness from the snow above.
May Good for Visitors. May also is a good month for visitors, with more possibilities of agreeable days than February or April, though the warm days begin to come on apace soon after the middle of the month.
Fog in the Canyon. Upon rare occasions, fog banks sink into the Canyon deeps, and even now and again completely hide it from view. Do not let such a sight disappoint you. The fact is, you are being highly favored. If you will but exercise patience, you will see many marvels when the sun begins to work upon the fog. Slowly the great mass begins to show signs of uneasiness; large and small masses become broken off, and struggle as if to ascend; then, stretching apart as one stretches a mass of white cotton-batting, they are speedily dissipated into mist, and disappear. Below, in the deeper reaches, the fog rolls and tosses as if sleeping uneasily in its rocky bed. Great detached masses of rock that the eye had not been able to discern before are now made clear, the white fog behind them revealing their outlines in startling clearness. Indeed a fog may be called "the great revealer of the inner mysteries of the Canyon." It certainly shows forth more of the separating walls and canyons, and the detached buttes, than the most observant can discover in a month, without its presence.
Clouds and Rain. There are times, in August and September, when rain is to be expected, that the whole heavens are patched over with clouds. The sun shines on and through them, and the atmosphere becomes murky and sultry to unpleasantness. Then, suddenly, there is a change in the temperature of the upper air, the moisture is condensed, and refreshing rain falls to cool and cheer the earth that before was parched and thirsty.
A Battle Royal. One morning I watched a battle of the clouds over the Canyon. The wind had been blowing hard all night. About five o'clock I arose, attracted to the rim of the Canyon by a great black cloud that seemed banked up and resting on the north rim, covering, as with a blanket of blackest smoke, the long, visible stretch of the Kaibab Plateau. By and by the sun shot piercing beams of golden glory underneath the cloud, yet, strong and powerful though they were, they could not penetrate the cloud itself. There was the great wall of the Canyon; fierce, fiery, crimson-golden rays shooting in thin streaks above, banked over and pressed down upon by a towering mass of angry clouds. The wind blew strongly and fiercely from the east, bringing fleecy-edged clouds with it. Down in the Canyon the effects were wonderful. The walls reflected the anger of the clouds, and the fire of the sun. Here and there a wall, a tower, or a pinnacle would be lit up with a golden glory, but all around was smoky and forbidding. It even seemed as if a grayish black smoke was ascending from the depths beneath, through which the sun--invisible behind the cloud above--shot lancelike beams, which silvered the smoke and made it a little more gray. On the far western walls, rich purples and reds appeared. Then, suddenly, a soft and fleecy cloud appeared in the clear blue of the morning sky, floating towards me. It was awe-inspiring and yet startling, for it came like a giant battleship, resistlessly and silently shouldering