It's freezing but visitors don't need a second invite to hop out of their tour buses to make the most of strategically located platforms at the Grand Canyon last month. Photo / Anendra Singh
It's freezing but visitors don't need a second invite to hop out of their tour buses to make the most of strategically located platforms at the Grand Canyon last month. Photo / Anendra Singh
Burping on two days of Las Vegas Boulevard fare on my 13-day visit to the United States, I yearned for a dramatic change of beat.
It came on days two and four — away from the glass, concrete and neon jungle of The Strip — with a promise of flora and fauna in harmony with nature.
The expansive Grand Canyon beckoned on a five-hour highway/interstate ride via the Hoover Dam. I was up at 4am, sleep deprived for fear of missing my transitional tour shuttle pick up from the foyer of the Tahiti Hotel.
A family of three had joined me a few minutes later on a chilly morning. I had peace of mind the bus housed toilet facilities although I had drastically reduced my intake of water overnight to be safe. For the record, Las Vegas has magnificent "rest rooms" at just about every casino entrance and mall to cater for millions of visitors. Janitors keep them in good shape with a spruce up every few hours.
The shuttle was punctual, picking up more people at other hotels on the way. We disembarked from it at a warehouse-like facility where we were herded into two groups.
"South or West?" the middle-aged African American man asked as I fumbled for the twisted ticket in my pocket before failing to identify my status.
As he came to help, I spotted — in fine print — the word "South Rim". You see, my friend, Mohammed Salim, had booked the excursion because he had time shares at Tahiti Hotel which gave him handsome discounts at the foyer travel desk.
Deer, oblivious to visitors milling around them, graze on wildlife reserve at the recreational centre of the Grand Canyon. Photo / Anendra Singh
Apart from the US$61 difference, the cheaper South Rim offers a national park visit in experiencing the widest and deepest part of the canyon while the West one offers a native American reservation, a ranch and the "world famous" skywalk. No doubt you can upgrade to "platinum" or "deluxe" packages and opt for guided Hummer tours, helicopter or boat rides.
In the grips of warding off dead-butt syndrome after a 13-hour flight and endless hours on the highways, I could have done with the three-hour West Rim drive that offers more time to explore but I hardened up at the thought of sightseeing and walking on the five-hour one.
Knackered from early morning finishes at The Strip, it wasn't surprising to find the passengers drifting in and out of sleep through a gratingly loud pre-recorded commentary as we passed satellite towns. I heard bits and pieces about the now defunct stretch of Route 66. It was once notorious for Mafia mobs to bury their victims in the desolate spots but my account may be sketchy as I also had succumbed to tiredness.
After a stop for toilets and refreshments at a mini-mart, we arrived at another transition spot where lunch was part of the trip.
Surprisingly, most of the passengers were Americans, although I had shared a seat with a retired banker from India who was visiting his daughter living and working in California.
A young tour operator employee, dressed up in Halloween outfit, stood at the back of the coach to intimidate passengers. She simply told you where to sit. Disagree and you got a school hostel-type of dressing down. A couple walked in and were ordered to go the back of the bus as the front rows were reserved.
Clutching a pillow, the woman pleaded for a change because she was prone to car sickness but the "matron" wasn't having a bar of it. The unhappy couple got off on the grounds of taking the next one.
It was the assertive female coach driver's turn to lay down the law. She had made it abundantly clear everyone had to be punctual after the 30-minute lunch break or there would be less time for excursions to the canyon. That fell on deaf ears as a couple of females hadn't returned after opting for having lunch while watching a documentary film on the canyon.
The driver gave a verbal bashing to everyone along the nifty drive to the Grand Canyon but the pair tripped up again and were either left behind or found another mode of transport. The driver certainly had my vote.
The sweeping panoramic views of the Grand Canyon, skirting the borders of Utah and Nevada, is a sight to behold even though I had to buy hats to keep my dome warm. Photo / Anendra Singh
The views were breathtaking. Cameras and cellphones, some with selfie sticks, were put to good use as visitors took risks on scary edges for stunning backgrounds.
I decided to walk a fair whack of a track but was mindful not to stray too far. "If you're not back on time then it's a long way back to Vegas and it's not cheap to book a flight or a helicopter," the driver had warned.
Luckily I had spotted a squirrel, fearless as it went up to a woman, stood on its hind legs — akin to a mischievous meerkat — before playing with her shoe laces.
Conspicuous notices at vantage points warned against feeding wildlife or face hefty fines and even jail terms.
It was a cool 15C autumn day but I couldn't resist the temptation of enjoying an icecream cone. As I walked around the recreation area I spotted moose and deer grazing on nearby reserve land.
There wasn't enough time to explore and, frankly, I felt I would have enjoyed it more in summer although I had bought an Elvis Costello-type hat to cover my nude dome.
We hit the highway back as dusk kicked in. It was time to catch up on some more sleep despite a recording on the ills of gambling and other undesirable activities.
We had stopped at what looked like a semi-industrial area for dinner as we approached Vegas. The fast-food choices were limited but I settled for a McDonald's grilled chicken burger. It was way shy of the burgers, tacos and pizzas I'd had.
The chirpy shuttle driver dropping us back to our hotels invited feedback on their website or social media platforms. His sales pitch on how a new hotel and stadium were opening so our patronage was vital had become too tedious after a long day.
A visitor laps up the attention from a squirrel who went on to play with her shoe laces at the Grand Canyon. Photo / Anendra Singh
Two days later I joined Salim's wife, Di, and two of their friends from Sacramento to visit an area straddling Utah and Arizona to take in the mystical Antelope Canyon.
It was silly but, at the time, I thought how could anything else possibly match the Grand Canyon. I was wrong.
If you're in Vegas, take a day out to do the Antelope trip to Navajo Nation. It's about a five-hour drive but this time I had no chance of sleeping.
Di, who was delighted I had helped her tick another road-trip box, debated the stereotypical attitude foreigners supposedly had about Americans. Trump, gun laws and religion helped kill the time on the way up to the City of Page where we had lunch at a refreshingly authentic Mexican restaurant. The indigenous staff pleasantly threw in some choice Indian words on recognising our heritage.
From there we crossed the road to the tour company where we were issued yellow cards, presumably to board the shuttle to the lower Antelope Canyon. Apparently the upper one, at a higher price, offers more space although tour companies offer basic and professional packages.
Ten dusty minutes later we were trying to make sense of barren red land with wisps of industrial smoke emitted from nearby energy-generating plants.
A female guide gave our group a swift lesson on what settings were ideal on android cellphones for shots inside the dimly lit canyon and away we went.
It was like a refrigerator inside so if you intend to travel around the US in autumn, dress for winter to the Antelope Canyon.
However, the magical moments inside brought out the warmth in everyone. It commanded the silence of a monastery as visitors fixated on shafts of light creating cryptic and, at times, illusionary images. It's harsh but to an extent the contoured landscape makes any shutterbug look like an artist.
The guide explained how the once-in-a-blue-moon floods had helped mother nature sculpture the land forms with erosion.
It was hard to imagine if it ever rains there but exhibits of drift wood lodged between walls were evident. I've always wanted to visit the pyramids of Egypt and colosseums of Greece but there was a certain je ne sais quoi (for what, I do not know) about the eerie offerings at the canyon.
California visitor Di Salim captures an angelic pose to highlight the mystical features in the bowels of Antelope Canyon in Arizona. Photo / Anendra Singh
The commercial drive is robust and impatient. Shuttles come and go unapologetically. It can start feeling like a supermarket ailse. Chains of people were doing their best not to tangle and a guide, armed with a rod, was getting stroppy with anyone getting in the way of what seemed to be a TV crew asserting its perceived sense of self-importance.
If you suffer from claustrophobia or fear darkness then it isn't for you because in some places there's barely enough body space to squeeze through.
On the way back, we had a brush with the law in Utah. Di, admittedly, caught between speed limits had recognised she hadn't slowed down quick enough. A patrol car parked on the road side had presumably clocked her.
Not surprisingly, about 1km down the highway, an officer, with red and blue lights flashing on top of his patrol car, pulled her over.
As Di took a deep breath to brace herself for a US$400 fine, I preached calmness as a front-seat passenger who had erred on the side of caution in a country that champions the right-hand rule.
"Just be honest and tell him you didn't notice the change in speed limit because the sign was tucked behind the tree branch," I suggested, after irritatingly announcing speed limit changes to her all the way down and back.
Firm but polite, the officer went through his routine before asking to see her driving licence and registration. To cut a long story short, he noted the California number plate and asked if we were enjoying our holiday before a sober warning on staying in the straight and narrow.
Despite my anti-American sentiments, I was turning out to be a good omen for Di and, yet again, the police were doing a stellar job.
For the record, I have renewed respect for truckies on New Zealand roads. In California, the big boys have a tendency to indicate in the blink of an eye to switch lanes. It's mind blowing to see a truckie overtaking another truck when a few seconds of patience can allow a car to zip past on the multi-lanes before the 18 wheelers make their move.
Visitors scramble for vantage points to take photos in the Antelope Canyon but it can start feeling like a supermarket aisle after a while. Photo / Anendra Singh
