The Grandest Of Canyons

President’s Day weekend, aside from being a painful reminder that my Canadian citizenship forbids me from ever being America’s fearless leader, allowed me to cross the first of my New Year’s resolutions off my list. Making the long trek to the Grand Canyon in a Prius – with the gas savings being more than worth the cost of putting up with my younger brother’s loaded questions about my spending the holiday weekend with three dudes in an eco-friendly car – Joel, Andy and film school compatriot/podcast all-star Chris Browne drove until there was snow beneath our tires and a big damn hole in front of our grill.

While the drive was easier than I’d thought, that’s probably because Joel was behind the wheel the entire time. And because I was sleeping. Still, I like to think I made a valuable contribution by charting a route that took us through every Sonic Drive-In between here and Arizona. Even though our slushie bender threatened to put us in search of the Grand Canyon’s legendary all-night diabetes clinic, the cherry-limeade syrup coursing through my veins says it was worth it.

Day one was a lot of us hiking around the rim, giving low whistles and saying, “They weren’t kidding, were they? This thing’s…man, this thing’s really big.” We got a little more adventurous on the second day, venturing down into the gorge and along the Bright Angel Trail. Taking us halfway down the Canyon’s elevation and out toward its center, it ended with the sight of six of the remaining one hundred California condors in existence.

Perched on a precipice two-thousand feet over the Colorado River like a half-dozen enormous vultures, they took flight and proved themselves the Grand Canyons of the bird world (rough comparison, but deal with it). Circling close enough that we could hear the wind whistling through their feathers, they were as awesome and as terrifying as the overlook. Sitting on that rocky outcrop and looking down at the river, I was positive we were seconds away from an earthquake that would send me tumbling into the Canyon. Which, while making for a petty cool obituary, would have but a pretty big damper on the weekend.

Luckily, we survived lunch and managed to ascend out of the Canyon in the same amount of time it took us to descend. Which, if my calculations are correct, is about as physically possible as bumblebee flight. And while the rapid climb meant a wee bit of muscle pain the next day, it was nowhere near as bad as the suffering we endured at the hands of EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH. What started out as a little mindless entertainment for the room wound up becoming an odyssey in terrible filmmaking. Even though we could only stand about fifteen minutes of the flick at a time, we were compelled to keep going back for more. A little scary. But no scarier than the fact that the movie actually got made.

Monday’s ride home – with Joel once again heroically taking the reins – was another eight hour Sonic-fueled sugar high, not to mention a chance to ponder on the fact that the Grand Canyon’s been there for roughly 40,000,000 years (or 4,500 if you believe the gift shop’s creationism book that pins its formation on Noah’s flood) and I’ve been here for…oh…slightly less than that. So the way I look at it, the Grand Canyon’s a challenge. While it’s had – and will have – millions of years to make an impression here on Earth, each of us has a scant few decades to do the same thing. Which means it’s time to get digging.

Speaking of which, I’m officially ramping up pre-production on the next spec spot. There’ll be more to report in the next few weeks, by which time a Quicktime encoded, 30-second version of QUIET GAME will be hosted here on the site. You can also look forward to SHOOT FOR THE MOON making its debut as the next installment in the video podcast, hitting computer screens next week…