Lately, I’ve been pushing myself to step outside and document the Dragon Bravo Fire, on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, from the South Rim — trying to process something that still feels surreal. This photo was made at sunset on July 27, looking northeast from Powell Point.
On Friday, July 11, my partner, Dave, and I had to rapidly evacuate the North Rim, where he worked for Grand Canyon National Park and I worked remotely as marketing coordinator for Grand Canyon Conservancy, the park’s nonprofit partner. Somehow, within 10 minutes of going from “SET” to “GO” evacuation status, we managed to throw most of our things into our camper and truck. We left our hot tub (which somehow survived untouched) and our tent, along with some miscellaneous items. The tent burned to the ground, and the fire was so hot, it burned a giant hole through our outdoor freezer.
The thing I’m most sad about losing is my first park ranger flat hat, which I’d hoped to wear when we get married. But that’s nothing compared to our friends who lost everything.
We’ve evacuated for hurricanes before, but with those, you have days to prepare. When you’re given just minutes, it’s traumatic and hard to process. Many of us who evacuated to the South Rim feel like we’re in a strange version of reality, still trying to figure out what day or time it is. We’re thankful to have housing here, that my job is remote and giving me time off, and that Dave has work here when he’s ready.
The media coverage has been tough. So much focus has been on Grand Canyon Lodge burning down. Yes, that’s a loss. But it also burned down in the 1930s, and it will be rebuilt. I wish the news told the stories of the people who lived there — the ones who made the North Rim what it was for visitors. Our friends lost everything. Cabins flattened. Every personal item that wasn’t carried out, gone.
The North Rim was our summer home for five seasons. It meant so much to us. It was the first park Dave and I ever worked in together, and the only one we returned to again and again, because we loved it. Most seasonal employees move on after one season. We didn’t.
I’m so thankful for those five seasons, and for my North Rim friends. We don’t know exactly what the future holds, but the North Rim will be rebuilt. And when it is, it will continue to inspire, heal and welcome others, just as it did for us. I hope that day comes soon.
Processing this fire feels like grieving the loss of a loved one. I miss our summer home so much.