It’s Not the Champagne Rattling

It is amazing the feeling of speed one gets when flying 30 feet over the barren desert landscape and then to have the Earth suddenly fall out from underneath you into what seems momentarily a bottomless abyss. The butterflies that reside in our stomachs suddenly decide to throw a party while a thermal air current catches the helicopter we are flying in and sends it shooting upwards. Dizzying and maddening you finally get an idea that you’ve arrived. Through the glass in the floor of the chopper you realize you are now over a mile above any tangible earth, you are now hovering above the north rim of the Grand Canyon and your guide/pilot informs you your ride is just getting started. With that the nose of the chopper began to dip reminding you of that impending doom-like sensation as you reach the top of a roller coaster. The butterflies began to party like it was 1999 and before you know it you are shooting straight into the canyon at over 100 miles per hour.

When my girlfriend and I had inquired at the concierge desk about Grand Canyon tours the woman warned us both that there were some tours “more adventurous” than others. My girlfriend, never having been a big fan of anything fast or involving heights, wasn’t really into the idea of a helicopter tour; I on the other hand was. If I was going to see the Grand Canyon I was going to get the entire experience. After looking through the endless catalogues I settled on the tour that the concierge described to me as “…like a roller coaster ride through the canyon with a soft landing on the bottom.” I was sold, my girlfriend not so much. She wished me luck as I booked the trip and plunked down the money for my upcoming thrill ride. As we walked away it dawned on me to ask the concierge if there had been any accidents lately. “There was one last week, but it wasn’t this company. You’ll be fine.” she said. I was scheduled to be picked up the next day at 3:00 p.m.

Diving into the Grand Canyon in a chopper is crazy. “What the hell am I doing?” you think to yourself as the pilot pushed the chopper through the canyon with what seemed like reckless abandon. Someone onboard commented how it is like riding with Luke Skywalker down the trench of the Death Star. Swooping back and forth, up and down, the rush of excitement just would not end. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was actually a little over 5 minutes, we found ourselves in the heart of the canyon. Everywhere you looked was nature’s majesty, with colors ranging from the tan of the desert to green grass growing by the murky brown water of the Colorado River. We cruised for 20 minutes, taking in the canyon from above, snapping pictures every second. It was surreal. In front of you is a place you have seen a thousand times before on both television and in photos but now you know it actually exists. For miles around all you see is canyon, the sheer size of which is nothing short of daunting. You are told by the pilot that you are would be landing shortly to refuel for the rest of our flight and to give everyone on board a chance to stretch their legs. The time you have spent over the canyon has only wetted your thirst for more of it.

With the fuel tank full we head out for our landing at the bottom of the canyon. The trip to the location takes about 25 minutes and the entire time we are surrounded by the huge crack in the Earth. The descent into the canyon at slow speed was a little eerie. I couldn’t help but feel like we were travelling to the bottom of the planet and I guess in a way we were. We were scheduled to be on the bottom of the canyon for an hour and a half so I decided to walk with two other people along the river at the very bottom. Before we left on our short hike the pilot had put out a spread of beverages, assorted cheeses, and fruits and vegetables. We all reached for champagne and toasted to our trip thus far. The breeze blowing gently through the valley brought with it a sweet scent of flowers that were blossoming along the river. There was something religious about the place. It was absolute quiet minus the sound of the water and the wind running by us. As we walked by the river we were greeted by another sound. What sounded like a baby’s rattle only got louder as we progressed forward along the river’s edge. “It’s not the champagne rattling,” I stated out loud. Then, as if almost on cue I noticed on a rock 4 feet in front of me a brown snake curled up and looking none too friendly. Instantly my mind started thinking about what I had seen on shows like Nature and The Crocodile Hunter. We decided just to back up slowly making note of where we stepped figuring where there was one rattlesnake there was probably another close by. It was decided amongst the three of us walking that we had gotten close enough to Mother Nature already and we started back towards the chopper for more alcohol to calm our now “rattled” nerves. The rest of the time at the bottom of the canyon I went and explored by myself with a plastic cup refilled with champagne and enough cheddar cheese cubes and crackers to last me a day or two should I get lost. Finding a rock I just sat down and listened to the quiet while letting the breeze hit my face and carry away any worries I had in the world. The bubbly never tasted better.