Yup, that's me sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon (aka "giant hole in the ground"), trying to appear like I'm modelling my cheap American Eagle T-shirt and at the same time trying not to meet a horrendous fate by falling into the hole. I'm smiling too, which as everyone knows, is a rarity. Probably coz L. and I had a lot of fun on our daytrip to the canyon. Since we were bored to death in Phoenix and wanted to escape that badly, L. and I decided to take on the challenge of driving 4.5 hours from Phoenix to the South Rim mostly on desolate stretches of flat desert highways, interrupted only by the occasional housing development plopped right in the middle of nowhere and the attendant outlet shopping malls. And not to forget, that other staple of the cookie-cutter lifestyle - chain restaurants.
It was a daunting prospect for both me, who detested driving long distances, and L., a work-in-progress behind the wheel. Fortunately, a viable alternative presented itself in the form of the
Grand Canyon Railway, a steam locomotive train service departing daily from the town of Williams and taking a little over 2 hours to cover the 65-mile distance to the canyon. Lured by the brochure's promise of comfortable passenger cars offering views of assorted flora and fauna along the route, we decided to plunk down $95 each for the Club Class service, in no small part due to the passenger car having its own fully-stocked bar and bartender at the ready. Quite steep (got the AAA discount though), but at least we could get some much-needed shuteye since we had to drive back that night to Phoenix. We departed quite early at 6am for the 3-hour drive to Williams, reaching it just in time for the train's departure.
The train ride itself was ok, if somewhat leisurely (read: slow) and relaxing (read: boring). The scenery looked awfully the same all the time too, so I got bored and promptly fell asleep, awaking from time to time to find that the scenery hadn't changed and to avail of the free beverages. The female bartender (whose name escapes me) did a brisk business selling martinis and amazingly cheap (hey, this is Arizona) drink specials to the passengers, despite it clearly being too early to imbibe. Maybe they were all from New York or some other high-priced area and couldn't resist sousing themselves on cheap alcohol. According to L., some cowboys (or railway employees dressed like cowboys) would come and sing or play instruments, but I was oblivious to their presence. But eventually we arrived at the Grand Canyon with much excitement.
The nice thing about the South Rim, being quite developed, is that it offers a lot of tourist amenities, making your visit a pleasant one. You can choose to walk along the Rim while viewing the green and brown rock formations, or trolleys can ferry you to different points along the Rim on two different routes for different perspectives on the canyon. It all looked quite the same to me though, except for one part where parts of the Colorado river can be seen (and its roar heard, according to the trolley driver with supersonic hearing) and after thirty minutes of staring and taking pictures, I was ready to leave. But wait, we still have 3 hours to kill!!! So L. and I continued on taking more and more pictures, all of them looking remarkably quite the same. This experience was quite different from my first visit to the West Rim five years ago which necessitated being thrown around the SUV while driving through Indian reservation land on unpaved desert roads. Definitely a more rustic experience, but on the upside there were no long lines for the trolleys. Come to think of it, there were no trolleys at all.
Well, all good things have to come to an end. At 4pm, the train started chugging back to Williams and the drinking started again. After thirty minutes or so, the train came to a complete halt due to an electrical problem and after anxious moments of worrying that we'd have to spend the night in the desert shivering in freezing temperatures, the crew announced that they had fixed the problem and pretty soon we were up and running. Too wiped out to care, instead I was focused on how to fall asleep on the uncomfortable seat, and I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the ride. At some point, the bartender announced that the cowboys (those on the train's payroll) were going to "rob" the train, and not being very bright people (her words, not mine), we had to put our money somewhere obvious for them to get. She suggested putting dollar bills behind our ears, or sticking out of shirt pockets, among others. As the car's other passengers eagerly awaited the robbers' arrival and conceived of ways to voluntarily separate themselves from their money, I decided to reprise my oft-played role as major killjoy, figured that L. and I paid too much for the ride in the first place, and refused to take part in this silliness and went back to my nap.
Yup, that's me sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon (aka "giant hole in the ground"), trying to appear like I'm modelling my cheap American Eagle T-shirt and at the same time trying not to meet a horrendous fate by falling into the hole. I'm smiling too, which as everyone knows, is a rarity. Probably coz L. and I had a lot of fun on our daytrip to the canyon. Since we were bored to death in Phoenix and wanted to escape that badly, L. and I decided to take on the challenge of driving 4.5 hours from Phoenix to the South Rim mostly on desolate stretches of flat desert highways, interrupted only by the occasional housing development plopped right in the middle of nowhere and the attendant outlet shopping malls. And not to forget, that other staple of the cookie-cutter lifestyle - chain restaurants.
It was a daunting prospect for both me, who detested driving long distances, and L., a work-in-progress behind the wheel. Fortunately, a viable alternative presented itself in the form of the Grand Canyon Railway, a steam locomotive train service departing daily from the town of Williams and taking a little over 2 hours to cover the 65-mile distance to the canyon. Lured by the brochure's promise of comfortable passenger cars offering views of assorted flora and fauna along the route, we decided to plunk down $95 each for the Club Class service, in no small part due to the passenger car having its own fully-stocked bar and bartender at the ready. Quite steep (got the AAA discount though), but at least we could get some much-needed shuteye since we had to drive back that night to Phoenix. We departed quite early at 6am for the 3-hour drive to Williams, reaching it just in time for the train's departure. 
The train ride itself was ok, if somewhat leisurely (read: slow) and relaxing (read: boring). The scenery looked awfully the same all the time too, so I got bored and promptly fell asleep, awaking from time to time to find that the scenery hadn't changed and to avail of the free beverages. The female bartender (whose name escapes me) did a brisk business selling martinis and amazingly cheap (hey, this is Arizona) drink specials to the passengers, despite it clearly being too early to imbibe. Maybe they were all from New York or some other high-priced area and couldn't resist sousing themselves on cheap alcohol. According to L., some cowboys (or railway employees dressed like cowboys) would come and sing or play instruments, but I was oblivious to their presence. But eventually we arrived at the Grand Canyon with much excitement.
The nice thing about the South Rim, being quite developed, is that it offers a lot of tourist amenities, making your visit a pleasant one. You can choose to walk along the Rim while viewing the green and brown rock formations, or trolleys can ferry you to different points along the Rim on two different routes for different perspectives on the canyon. It all looked quite the same to me though, except for one part where parts of the Colorado river can be seen (and its roar heard, according to the trolley driver with supersonic hearing) and after thirty minutes of staring and taking pictures, I was ready to leave. But wait, we still have 3 hours to kill!!! So L. and I continued on taking more and more pictures, all of them looking remarkably quite the same. This experience was quite different from my first visit to the West Rim five years ago which necessitated being thrown around the SUV while driving through Indian reservation land on unpaved desert roads. Definitely a more rustic experience, but on the upside there were no long lines for the trolleys. Come to think of it, there were no trolleys at all. 
Well, all good things have to come to an end. At 4pm, the train started chugging back to Williams and the drinking started again. After thirty minutes or so, the train came to a complete halt due to an electrical problem and after anxious moments of worrying that we'd have to spend the night in the desert shivering in freezing temperatures, the crew announced that they had fixed the problem and pretty soon we were up and running. Too wiped out to care, instead I was focused on how to fall asleep on the uncomfortable seat, and I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the ride. At some point, the bartender announced that the cowboys (those on the train's payroll) were going to "rob" the train, and not being very bright people (her words, not mine), we had to put our money somewhere obvious for them to get. She suggested putting dollar bills behind our ears, or sticking out of shirt pockets, among others. As the car's other passengers eagerly awaited the robbers' arrival and conceived of ways to voluntarily separate themselves from their money, I decided to reprise my oft-played role as major killjoy, figured that L. and I paid too much for the ride in the first place, and refused to take part in this silliness and went back to my nap.
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