river as we crossed. I was transfixed by the rushing water of the Colorado River, which was just twenty feet below me now.
“I’m always tempted to jump in the river when I hike in the summer,” Riley said. “In the winter? Not so much.”
“I can’t believe that river caused all of this.” I gestured around me.
“Water and wind, plus a billion years,” Harper said. “Erosion is a hell of a thing.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I gazed in awe at the Colorado River as we crossed to the other side.
28
Christie
After crossing the Colorado River we only had another mile to go before reaching the Phantom Ranch. I was still in awe from crossing the river, and the time passed in the blink of an eye.
Phantom Ranch was slightly larger than the Indian Garden. A few campsites, a pen for the mules, and a resthouse with bathrooms and running water. But there was one noticeable difference: the Phantom Ranch Canteen. The walls were made of orange and tan stones interlocked like bricks, with a slanted slate roof and glass windows with wooden frames. Smoke drifted out of a rock chimney on the side. The sight of it promised warmth and food.
We stumbled inside like the weary travelers that we were. There were two rows of long tables and chairs, and the air was thick with the smell of roasting meat and spices. A chalkboard on the wall listed today’s weather and the menu of food available from the kitchen. Bagels, apples, sandwiches, candy bars, hot tea, hot coffee, hot cocoa, beer…
“All of it,” I said. “All of it sounds good right now.”
Suddenly a thick Texas drawl boomed in the room. “Look what the cat dragged in!” A portly man wearing a ten-gallon hat and an apron over his Park Ranger uniform emerged from the kitchen. “Y’all took yer sweet time gettin’ here, didn’t’cha?”
“We weren’t in a rush.” Riley clapped the man on the shoulder. “Christie, this is Bubba. He’s the chef here at the canteen.”
“You’re the Christie? The one I been hearin’ so much about?” Bubba swept off his hat. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss. You said you was hungry?”
“I could eat one of the mules out there,” I said.
Bubba scoffed loudly. “Ain’t gonna make you eat nothin’ like that. Don’t get me wrong, miss. I could make a faded leather boot taste good if you gave me enough time. But today, old Bubba’s got somethin’ special preparin’. Just you wait.”
He disappeared back in the kitchen.
“He’s a character,” I said as we sat down at a table.
“Bubba’s been the chef at the Phantom Ranch Canteen for twenty years,” Harper said. “Park Rangers are supposed to rotate in and out, and do other duties, but an exception is made for Bubba.”
“Because his food is better than anyone else’s,” Logan said.
I looked around the table. “You guys are hyping him up a lot. He’d better live up to the expectations.”
All three of them smiled. “Oh, he will,” Riley said.
The delicious smell of beef grew stronger in the canteen. Ten minutes later Bubba emerged with a handful of plates.
“Steak au Bubba,” he announced proudly. “With my famous twice-baked potato.”
The plate he put in front of me made my mouth water instantly. The steak looked perfect and was dripping grease and butter. The baked potato next to it had so much butter, sour cream, and cheese on it I couldn’t see the potato itself.
“How do you know how I like my steak?” I asked.
Bubba rumbled with laughter. “Miss, you’ll like it this way. Believe me!”
I cut into the steak. It was so tender I almost didn’t need to use a knife. Butter ran down the middle of the cut into the warm, pink center of the steak. I cut off a slice and placed it gently in my mouth.
“Oh my God,” I said. “This is the best steak I’ve ever had.”
Bubba clapped his hands together. “Hot damn. I’ve gone and impressed the famous Christie. Now old Bubba can die happy!”
Riley elbowed me in the arm. “Told you.”
“This is better than the trail mix I’ve been munching on all day.”
“Trail mix? Pfft. Miss, anything’s better than that squirrel food. A real woman needs meat and taters!”
“You won’t hear me disagree!”
Bubba sat down at the table to eat with us. We chatted about the hike and how it was my first time in the canyon. The twice-baked potato was even better than the steak; the inside was warm and rich. With all the toppings mixed in, it was