Ah, dear readers, you are in trouble now: I have been digging through my old photos again! Guess what I dug up? Yes, it’s my wedding. Well, more accurately, my honeymoon followed by my marriage. We don’t often do things traditionally.
We decided to elope. We, coincidentally, had purchased a special deal on 3 nights in a resort in Scottsdale, Arizona earlier that year and had yet to set a date to use it. This, combined with the fact that, in Arizona, you can get a marriage license the same day you get married set our destination for us. The dates available for the resort picked our dates.
I imagined a grand adventure to the Grand Canyon–getting married on an overlook before hiking off into the sunset with our backpacks. Then, a luxurious honeymoon in Scottsdale.
Although I had flown over the Grand Canyon many times, I’d never been to it. It didn’t occur to me that the rim of the canyon is at high altitude. As I started planning the trip, I soon learned that not much is open at the Grand Canyon in December.
That’s why we ended up doing the honeymoon part of the trip first.
In the end, we drove from the Phoenix airport to Williams, passing through the mountains over icy roads in a snowstorm that seemed to have appeared from nowhere compared to the weather we’d left behind.
We spent the night on Route 66 in a “Honeymoon Suite” Caboose. It sounded romantic when I booked it. If you’re looking for a recommendation, I’d say it would be a great place to stay when the outdoor temperature is perfect for sleeping. Turns out an old caboose has zero insulation and . . . you guessed it . . . it’s made of metal. You can imagine how thermally efficient that was on a night when it was way below freezing. Let’s just say it became clear to me why they called it the honeymoon suite (refer to hypothermia survival tactics if you’re confused).
In the morning, we took the train up to the Grand Canyon. However, we had to make a quick stop at a local general store first. This is how the discussion went:
Pat: “You can’t wear your hiking sandals and socks in the snow!”
Me: “It’s all I brought when we decided we weren’t going to backpack. I’ll be fine.”
Pat: “Let’s just get you a pair of snow boots before we get on the train.”
Me: “Snow boots! The train leaves at 7AM! Where are we going to find a pair of snow boots in the off-season in a tourist town at 6:30 in the morning???”
Pat: “I’m sure there will be a place open.”
Me: “Why would anyone be open at 6:30 in the morning???”
(This was a pre-coffee conversation.)
Believe it or not, there’s a general store in the middle of Williams that’s open at 6:30AM who sells snow boots in December. Go figure.