Für Europäer Nummer ein Campingplatz Mather! South Rim, GCNP, AZ.

After the bone-dry, scrub desert of New Mexico's northern plateaus, we made our way west to the Grand Canyon, to our reserved site at Mather campground, one of the National Parks system's largest campgrounds. Surrounded by what seemed to be the entire fleet of RVAmerica's caravans, all manned by Europeans vacationing in the land of the weak dollar, we set up out tent for the last time on the trip. Andy and Moose made camp, while Emily drove to the Canyon's gift shop/grocery store/cafeteria for wood, meat and cookies.
The butterscotch scent of the Ponderosas blended with the woodsmoke, layered with the smell of cooking sausage and beans, to make a perfect olfactory contribution to the night.
The next morning was a lazy one, spent sleeping in, finishing the night's porknbean plates, organizing the luggage and deciding how much of the increasing heat cold be beared.
As it was, we made our way to the Rim Trail, 2 miles or so of which is paved, running literally along the rim of the canyon's gaping yaw. Moose attracted the attention of the visiting Euros, most of whom reached deep into their fannypacks for tiny cameras to document this wooly beast.

Moose, nonplussed by the attention, was more concerned with what he must surely have considered to be the biggest damn hole he'd ever seen, and a little too close for comfort.
After walking in the heat, trying to grasp the magnitude of this many millions of years-old marvel, and trying to decide if the food at the cafeteria could really be any worse than that of the nicer-looking establishments in the park. We decided to scope out the grocery part of the store while munching mediocre sandwichs, plotting out hamburger, beer and wine dinner. Once a mental list was agreed upon, we decided to beat the heat with tickets to the most watched IMAX movie in history, Grand Canyon. In the 34 minute show, Emily and Andy both had small panic attacks: the swooping arial shots that plummet into the depths of the gorge were a little much for him, while she found the scenes of rafting the Colorado in replicas of the little wooden boats Maj. John Wesley Powell and his crew used in 1869 frighteningly real. A definite must see, especially when the weather dominates one's experience.
We made our way back to the camp store, stocking up on burger, cheese, wood and beverages, before returning to camp for an early dinner and lights out in preparation for the day's drive ahead.