Thoughts of Summer and vacations brought to what remains of my mind, an unplanned adventure that took place on a teenage Route 66 road trip to California with a couple of friends. When we drove through Arizona we saw a sign for the Meteor Crater. It was a slight diversion, but hey, what could me more exciting than a big hole?
The crater had just opened for public consumption a year or so earlier and there were only a couple of other cars in the crater parking lot. The three of us walked to the guardrail and peered down into the crater. My, what a big hole, I thought. We could see some teeny, tiny, objects way down there in the middle, so one friend suggested we go down and get a better look. The other friend was a chicken with better sense, so two of us crawled around the railing meant to keep people from falling in and started down the nearly vertical side.
We were in street clothes and shoes, so we mostly slid down the first 30 feet. The going got easier the closer we got to the bottom, where we hiked another quarter-mile to the center of the crater and the small cabin we’d seen from above. A little farther off stood the remains of a wooden drilling rig and some other junk. Pretty exciting.
In the empty cabin were a few names and dates previous souls had carved in the wooden walls. The most recent was 1902 and the oldest was from James in1858. By now we were hot and tired; time to leave.
Our not-yet-completely-formed teenage brains never gave any thought to the climb back up or the possibility that we wouldn’t be sliding up the last vertical 30 feet. We began our trek across the flat bottom when we heard a rattling sound coming from a spot near a scrubby-type plant. The spot was occupied by a coiled, not-so-scrubby-type rattlesnake. We took the long scenic path around it and began our ascent, dodging scorpions, tarantulas and a friendly Gila monster who’d come out to greet human idiots and enjoy the cool afternoon shade.
When we scrabbled near the top, my other friend stood railing-side with a few other tourists and two uniformed, badge-wearing officers, who didn’t appear as friendly as the scorpions. They informed us that no one is allowed down into the crater. My friend said we didn’t break it. The unimpressed uniforms took our names, addresses, etc., and escorted us back to our car.
To this day, no one is allowed in the crater, but visitors can partake of a guided tour around the rim. The corporation that owns the big hole has fenced off the mining area below and added some tourist-stop stuff down there, with telescopes on the upper railings to view it. At least tourists can feel they’re getting something for their entry fees.
I’m sure I left my mark on history as one of a small number of people who actually were down in the crater, maybe one of the only two tourists ever. I’m a legend…in my own mind, at least.