This is a holy place.

         It is the Place of Emergence for the Hopi, the Peaceful People.  It is here whereby they arrived in the Fourth World and were told by Maasaw to travel to the four corners of the earth.  When they were done they were to remain in the Center.  And there they endure on Hopi Mesas.

         It is the place of Emergence for the Zuni.  They traveled to this world via Ribbon Falls, and several times a year they return to pay their respects to the spirits.  The story of their migration is written on the rock walls. 

         It is the gateway to the next world for the Paiute.  The spirits of their departed inhabit the narrows of Deer Creek.

         It is the home, spiritual and physical, of the Havasupai.  The Canyon’s big horn sheep are the guardians of their tribe.  Mysterious beings lurk on ledges, intent on protecting the environs within.  It is important to pause upon entering the depths to reassure these beings that one comes with respect and gratitude. 

         There are reports of susceptible visitors who faint upon first seeing the Canyon.  Back the day tourists described it as “awe-full” in the original sense of the word.  

         So what does it mean, exactly, when a hiker emerges from the depths and declaims: “I just crossed rim to rim in 11 hours!”  How does it affect the spirituality when sports aficionados scrawl, “Boomers suck!” on the sandstone walls?  Does it offend when those travelers who have bought into the single-use water bottle swindle finish off their half pint of distilled angel tears, tie the bottle into an adorable little knot, and leave it under a rock? 

         Well, yes, it kind of does.

         Full disclosure: I have gone rim to rim in a day.  It was in October, and it took from dawn to dusk, so it was probably about 12 hours.  However, I did not go out the usual route.  We hiked out the Old Bright Angel Trail, which is longer than the North Kaibab and non-maintained to boot.  This was not my idea: the young man who drove my car to the North Rim decided to take the rougher route down, and I decided it would be prudent to hike out the route which actually led to my ride back.

         I also have been known to race people out.  Particularly those who cut the switchbacks, mostly so I can toss off a clever and cutting remark when I pass them.  Usually something about cheating. 

         I do not, howsoever, write on the rocks.  In point of fact, I carry a bottle of water and scrub brush so I can eradicate those attempts at immortality.  And woe be unto those who include their phone number, their place of business, or their hash tag.  I have the email for Park Dispatch, and I am not afraid to use it. 

         Nor do I indulge in one-use bottled water, and if I did, I would carry the empties out. 

         I respect the Canyon.  I value it.  I won’t be conceited enough to claim to commune with the rock spirits, but I have been known to whisper a word of thanks if the weather holds, or if I get the campsite I wanted.  I do not value those who do not share my values. 

         Admittedly, running rim to rim is not necessarily a sacrilege.  Though I must agree with the staffer at Phantom Ranch who asks plaintively, “would they run through the Louvre?”  If there were tee shirts awarded, yes, they probably would.  But leaving their trash?  Yes, that is sacrilege.  Eschewing the outhouse because the line is too long and they don’t want to lose time?  Yes, also gross.  Knocking little old people and children out of the way?  Rude and risky.  Grandma or Grandpa might be walking with a strapping young relative who takes umbrage at such treatment of the elders of the tribe. 

         Everyone with any respect for the land agrees that graffiti is beyond the pale.  Would they appreciate it if upon returning home they discovered their place of domicile covered with spray painted tags? One guesses not. 

         But pity them, I am told, for their ignorance.  Pity is difficult to justify when four thousand year old rock art is defaced with “I heart Grand Canyon”. 

         If these people tried to scale the walls in the Sistine Chapel, would it be said that they acted out of ignorance?  If they tried to write their names on the altar in St. Peter’s?  If they left their empty water bottles under the pews in their local church.  Of course, maybe they do. It is so much trouble to carry the empty bottles to the trash.

         I overheard a woman at Phantom Ranch saying, “did you hear, they want to put a gondola down into the Ranch”.  Being naturally nosy I interjected, “No they want to build a gondola at the Little Colorado Confluence.”

         “Oh, well, if it’s way over there…”

         I couldn't let that one go by either.  “Listen, the Confluence is sacred to a half dozen Native American Tribes.’’ Blank look.   “What if someone wanted to put a climbing wall in St. Patrick’s Cathedral?”

         Her face took an expression of absolute horror.  “Did you hear that?  Someone is putting a climbing wall up St. Patrick’s Cathedral!”

         Sigh.