Sedona, the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, and I Still Hate Phoenix

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for August, "Rude Hiker," was inspired by some of the people we met on our weeklong hiking trip to the Southwest. 

As discussed in the most recent digest, we spent the first 24 hours in Phoenix, nursing our heat strokes and reminding ourselves that nothing good in the world has an "oe" that is pronounced "ee." Such as:

• Subpoena. Nobody every fist-pumps when they get one of these. 
• Amoeba. Gastrointestinal disease AND hemorrhagic meningitis? In this economy?
• Foetus. A silly British way to spell something that's already rather nasty, if we're being honest. 

So of course, Phoenix was going to be miserable. And to top it off, the hotel we stayed at was way overpriced. If our financial system was truly based on supply and demand, Phoenix hotels would pay guests to stay there.  Or at list NIX the PHOE. 

Okay, I think I'm finally done bashing Phoenix. Wait until you hear about all the fun places we visited afterwards! (BTW, Phoenix sucks!) 

Sedona

Sedona is a like a cosmic laundry snafu. God accidentally washed his red rocks with his white crystals, and now all the Jeeps are pink. 

The people there, who lovingly call themselves Sedonuts, are intensely, aggressively spiritual. Not only do most of them have a therapy pet, but many also have an aromatherapy pet. And the corrupt government officials are all under the thumb of Big Essential Oil. 

Here's the conversation I overheard at the hotel restaurant:

"Welcome to Star Seed Origin Organic Cafe. I know my name tag says Kaitlyn, but you can call me Namaste Das. Can I get you started with some vibrational kosmic matcha latte?"

"Yes, hi. Is your Reishi Boost germinated in polar, geomagnetic ocean minerals?"

"Of course, and all of our chia-based superfoods are adaptogenic."

"Great! Okay, for starters, I'd like a circle of boiling pachouli oil poured around our seating area, and for my main course, a sage enema."

"Excellent choice! I'll be back with some bread and a bucket to collect your negative energies."

The Grand Canyon

The award for the laziest National Park namer goes to John Wiley Powell, a one-armed Civil War Veteran who popularized the term "The Grand Canyon" in 1871*. Prior to that, European explorers had called it "The Big Canyon," while the Paiute Indians called it "Standard Canyon, people. Not much to see. Move along." 

But at least the term Grand Canyon is descriptive, right? If only! Grand can mean almost any size. Sure, a grand piano is a big piano, but a grandchild is smaller than a child, and a grande Frappuccino is the most medium-sized of all Frappuccinos. 

Regardless, the Grand Canyon is a backpacker's paradise, and we were ready to hike it like a long snapper. The geologic history of the canyon is mind-boggling. Every step down the South Kaibab Trail takes you past rock formations that are 10 million years older than the last. It really helps put everything else into perspective, like what a hellhole Phoenix is. 

Zion and Bryce

Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon are only a couple hours away from each other, so tourists can check out both in the same vacation week. But we only budgeted enough time to go to one, so we picked based on religious preference. 

Obviously, Zion is a more comfortable destination for Jews because Zion is what Jewish people call Israel. And Bryce is clearly going to appeal to white Evangelical Christians, judging by the fact that it is what they name all their children. 

Imagine my surprise then, when we arrived at Zion, only to find that the most popular hike is called Angels Landing. It sounds like something right out of an apostolic hymnal.

I had no choice but to send a strongly worded postcard to the National Park Service about this overt antisemitism. And good news! They wrote back immediately and have agreed to change the name of the trail to Bagels Landing.

With warmest regards,

Zach

* Runner up for Laziest National Park namer goes to French fur trade Legardeur St. Pierre, the creative mind behind "The Rocky Mountains." If St. Pierre hadn't been slapped in the head by so many beaver tails, he might have remembered that 100% of Earth's mountains are made of rock.  But he was happy for the win after failing to get Dry Desert and Lake Wettest to catch on.