As I mentioned earlier, temperatures in Arizona vary greatly in the winter, so we anticipated that the mountains would likely be covered by a dusting of snow, much like they'd been in Sedona.
We couldn't have been more wrong.
Prior to our departure, we checked the temperatures for the area repeatedly, and upon being assured by weather.com that the region would be snow-free but extremely cold, we hit the road. A few hours into the drive, the snow started falling, lightly at first, but then increasing in intensity as we continued on. As we drew closer to our destination, conditions worsened to the point where we considered turning the car around. But with only a half hour left to go... we didn't.
When we finally arrived, the Park was relatively desolate at first; as we drove closer to the South Rim, there were a fair number of people trekking towards the Canyons. But due to the snow, the gorge was barely visible. The snow wasn't coming down terribly hard at this point, but the fog created by the snow was so thick that, standing at the edge, we could barely make out even the sharpest contours below us. I took some really terrible pictures, too, that I will spare you from looking at. The ones taken of the Canyon at large best resemble white clouds with gray lines where the fog was a little thinner. The shots of some of the nearby rocks are nice, but still a little too foggy to be attractive.
Cue my second round of disgruntlement on this trip, although this round was tinged by a general anger at fate for being so unkind.
My little cousins, having lived in Southern California their whole lives, ignored the disappointment of our failed plans in favor of traipsing around excitedly in the snow. The rest of us could not have been less enthused.
But my dad was the real loser in this situation, and although he took this in stride, I felt so bad for him.
Thanks, weather, for being completely lame.
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