Two nights before we left Charleston, we went out to dinner with Tim's parents. His step-father and I killed a bottle of Pinot and tried to name every movie on the Top 100 Films of All Time, but Tim's mother was more focused and gave us a beautiful extra large atlas of the United States. When she gave it to us, she strongly suggested we actually look at it instead of just blindly driving and hoping we'd come across cool things (how do Mothers know everything before we do it?). Admittedly, we didn't take a peek in the atlas until we reached Georgia, and it wasn't until Alabama that we realized we would be passing through the Grand Canyon. We were beyond-words-excited by the time we were in Mississippi, and by Arkansas, Tim had taken to calling our destination "The Grand Onion" for reasons unknown (but let's be honest-it feels REALLY good to say those words out loud).
Due to some really impressive last-minute internet hotel shopping, Tim got us reservations inside the Grand Canyon National Park. We arrived when it was dark, but we could smell the canyon air for miles around. In the morning, we got up early and spent hours walking along the Southern Rim. Gorgeous.
Don't worry, there's more to this story than "my husband and I visited the Grand Onion and I took some mediocre-at-best pictures."
Oh, yes, there is more.
If any of you have ever been the victim of my Leica, you'll know it makes a really satisfying "chuh-KINK" sound when the shutter closes. People LOVE it. Animals maybe not so much. On the path that wound back to the parking lot, Tim and I wandered around a corner and suddenly found ourselves within 5 yards of an EIGHT FOOT TALL FEMALE ELK. I, of course, sprung into "chuh-KINK" action and began snapping as many pictures as I could because when am I ever going to see an elk again without a gate between us?! I moved closer and closer (but still within tolerable distance) until I heard Tim shout several expletives and yelled "WHAT are you doing?! Get away from it!" I looked down at my preview-screen and realized that the elk had begun running at me, and was now a mere 12-16 inches away from my face. Here are the REAL shots I got on my camera.
I froze. And I realized that I was about 8 feet away from the canyon rim. I also realized that I had exactly one chance to move laterally away from the elk. I jumped to the side and into Tim's arms just as the elk took another 4 steps that would have almost certainly involved nudging me closer to the abyss. Tim lead a mother and her baby around the elk-attacking area while I collected myself and reviewed my pictures. When Tim got back, he politely inquired if I thought putting myself in harm's way was worth the blurry shot of the running elk.
UM YES.
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