Задание 38978: Preparing for the trip, the narrator understood that

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Preparing for the trip, the narrator understood that

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I have to confess I was disappointed on my first visit to the canyon more than a decade ago. On our way to Los Angeles, my family and I swung off the highway, made the 60-mile detour to the South Rim and found ourselves caught in a long traffic jam. When we eventually managed to park, and walked to the rim, the scale of the sight off the edge was so great that it was hard to muster a response. It was so familiar from innumerable pictures that it might just as well have been a picture. What surprised me most was the babel of languages audible among the files of visitors pouring off the tour buses. It sounded like Times Square on a Saturday night, with every continent represented in the hubbub.

We didn’t take any photos. We only stayed an hour or two, but before we left the rim I saw a trail, pale as chalk, winding down a huge slope beneath a cliff. This thread snaking over the landscape — where does it go, who uses it, why does it seem so intimate with the land? And why does it arouse such an intense longing to follow it? An unknown path seems almost necessarily a metaphor. We like to conceive of life as a thread, after all, a path crossing unexpected terrain on its journey to another element. There wasn’t time to follow it, and I left with a nagging sense of opportunity lost, and that pale thread of a path still pulling at me.

It wasn’t until last winter that I got to answer that pull. The first thing I learned is that for the Grand Canyon, winter is the best time to go. Winter is cool, and the cool is good for hiking. Sunlight becomes a blessing instead of a 120-degree curse when you step out of chill shade into some welcome warmth. The chief district ranger John Evans told me, “You’ll more or less have the place to yourself.” Although the canyon is a desert, it’s a kind of oasis in winter — a place of peace, sequestered from the rest of the world. Indeed, in three days of hiking I saw only two or three mule trains, each carrying baggage not riders, and maybe two dozen hikers in all.

To experience the canyon, you have to leave the rim. The frustration aroused by the grandness on a rim-only visit turns into liberation once you drop down. The modern world falls away. It’s not just a trip out of the human realm, but into the deep geology of the Earth. Layer upon layer of the planet’s crust is revealed. And in the silence and stillness, in the solitude of the canyon in winter, it’s all the more impressive.

As I was preparing to go, I was amazed how many people knew the inner canyon well. One acquaintance told me that he had spent 300 nights below the rim. In a grocery store in Santa Fe I talked with a Grand Canyon crazy runner who hikes from rim to rim in a single day several times a year. A woman in a coffee shop line told me about the time when a 10-pound falling rock nearly knocked her off a trail. I began to get the feeling the Grand Canyon is truly a national monument, similar to the Lake District in England. It’s something all Americans share and take pride in.

The canyon is one mile deep, and the trail is about 10 miles long, and that translates to a very arduous walk, especially for an 8-year-old son, who went on a trip with me. After an impossibly smooth two-hour ride in the vintage coaches of the Grand Canyon Railway from the nearest settlement, we checked in at Bright Angel Lodge near the canyon rim, to reconfirm our bookings for Phantom Ranch, down in the bottom. The woman behind the desk glanced at my son Saul and said: “I hope you’re planning to leave immediately, if not sooner.”

It was already one o’clock, and most hikers set off in the morning. My heart dropped. Saul is strong, fit as an Olympic athlete, but he is still only eight. Was it crazy and cruel to ask him to walk down then up a whole mile of elevation? What if he hurt himself? What would happen if my own legs failed me? The fear only amplified over the first spectacular mile of trail, where we had to pick our way precariously over ice. But then we were out on the spine of a ridge and the ice had all melted away. Here, it wasn’t so much about looking at a view as being in the midst of one.

I have always found geology more or less unbelievable. Could a river really carve out a gash that deep? However, before the construction of the Glen Canyon Dam, in a single day the Colorado River used to carry away 380,000 tons of silt, enough to fill a train 25 miles long. Obviously, a river this size is indeed an efficient grinding tool. The scientist John Strong Newberry said that “nowhere on the Earth’s surface are the secrets of its structure revealed as here.”

On his first visit to the canyon, the narrator was astonished by