Stories

The Last Time

On Saturday morning, July 13, 2025, a wildfire swept across Grand Canyon’s North Rim, destroying most of the lodge buildings and other important structures. The last time I visited the North Rim was in November 2024. We left the North Kaibab Trailhead at 8 am. The outdoor temperature was 18 degrees. It was the start of a two-day backpack down the Old Bright Angel Trail. The trail was overgrown, incredibly steep, and a very difficult route below the rim. It was tremendous. I never considered that this might be the last time I would visit the North Rim with its dense forest and historical buildings still standing.

I went to London in early July to visit an old client. I’d known him and his wife for more than 20 years and had taken them on many Southwestern US adventures. They had a Sedona home during that time and visited for thirty-day periods 2 or 3 times each year. He is an avid outdoorsman. Through many years of hiking and outdoor adventures, we became dear friends. I always looked forward to spending time with them, whether enjoying a quiet evening dinner or a hike in a red rock canyon. In 2018, as their age progressed, transcontinental travel became laborious. They sold their Sedona house and decided to stay close to home. I often thought about visiting them in London, but life sometimes gets in the way of…well, life. His wife passed in January 2024.

The last time was never something my younger mind paid heed to. I know there have been many last times in my life, but with age comes realization, perhaps even actualization, of the meaning of our lives on this planet. I could not have had that without him. The need for mountains, forests, deserts, rivers, canyons, and oceans is only second to our need for each other. We bring different perspectives to one another during visits to wondrous places.

I enjoyed seeing him in his Kensington home. My knowledge of this being our last time toghether was with me from the early planning process of the trip, but I never let that get in my way. We talked of old times, walked through the pages of his many photo albums, he had more than 90, and shared our familiar banter of jokes and wits with each other. I thoroughly enjoyed our visit. As the evening came to an end, he walked with me back to the main road, guiding me via a “secret” path through the buildings bordering his neighborhood. I took a few steps, then turned back to look as he waved goodbye.

On that July evening in London, I said, for the last time, “Thank you for the times we’ve shared”.