Of all of the campsites we examined, most recommend would be Jumbo Rocks; massive, smooth rock formations to climb and admire. Camping is something most enjoyable with a collective, so there was no need to linger.
What lay ahead was miles and miles of immaculate highway that is without interference of neither turns nor services nor habitation. Desert. This is the beginning of a growing feeling of loneliness and a longing for company that overwhelms in waves. It's interesting that the one-way conversations with my beloved canine friend seem to satisfy this feeling, and the irony that most friendships are self-serving monologues is not lost on me, though there is no friendship like that of this animal.
Tempted from the highway by the peculiar signs pointing to London Bridge, we happened upon Lake Havasu: a comfortable oasis from which to base several hours of editing labour from. Pulling up lakeside, swinging open the doors, we epitomized the Hobo Producer persona, while working on the December tan. Productivity at it's best.
London Bridge, for the record, is a poor imitation, but you probably guessed that.
Carrying on, we delayed our arrival to Grand Canyon National Park until almost midnight. Rolling in in the dark to the snow dusted tourist village again left us little option for legitimate parking residence. Finding ourselves at the end of the dark lookout, all we could know of the canyon next to us was the incredible sound of the wind howling through it. Not until morning would it's majesty be revealed.
The last dawn of the year broke the canyon crest with that glowing beam of life and light that inspires artists of all mediums. However, unless you're travelling with your family there is little more to do here than meditate on the awesomeness of creation, buy some kitsch, a postcard or two, and move on.
The dusk/dawn itinerary happily means avoiding park fees, which is an added, and lovely bonus.
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