North Rim Burns

“What we call destruction is but the first step to renovation." - Count Rumford (Sir Benjamin Thompson) 1796

The Grand Canyon Lodge Has Burned

Welp, partner... I surely wish I was sittin' here today, spinnin' a yarn soaked in jubilation and sunlit glory. But this tale comes laced with cinders and sorrow. It’s the sort of news that weighs on a soul like a wet wool blanket in a monsoon. So settle in close, gather 'round the digital campfire, and allow me to bear solemn witness to a loss that’s as vast as the chasm it once overlooked.

On the fateful night of July 12th, 2025, a wildfire known by the fearsome moniker of Dragon Bravo galloped through the North Rim of Grand Canyon National Park like some mythic beast loosed from Hades itself. In its fiery charge, it laid waste to a monument of memory and craftsmanship—the Grand Canyon Lodge. That stately sanctuary, beloved by generations, now lies in smolderin' ruin. Gone, too, are the creaky porch boards kissed by canyon winds, the great stone hearths that warmed both body and soul, and the silhouette of timber and stone that once crowned the Rim like a diadem forged in reverence.

🌄 A Frontier Cathedral Lost

Built in 1928 under the artful eye of architect Gilbert Stanley Underwood, the Lodge was more than a structure—it was a consecrated union between nature and human aspiration. Hewn from Kaibab limestone and ponderosa pine, she didn’t merely stand on the North Rim; she belonged to it. Like an elder statesman seated at the edge of eternity, she presided with silent dignity.

When I say she was a cathedral, I ain't jestin'. There was reverence in that lobby—the kind that made a feller take off his hat not outta custom, but outta sheer awe. Folks came from far and wide not just to bunk for the night, but to bear witness. To sip coffee on the porch as dawn unfurled her golden shawl across the canyon. To lean into silence so profound it could hush even the most ornery city slicker.

Now, I remember a time when log cabins were built by calloused hands and fires were fought with buckets and prayers. And still, the original Lodge was no stranger to catastrophe. In 1932, fire took her once already—starting, of all places, in the kitchen. Reckon that’s one way to overdo the flapjacks. But like a phoenix in cowboy boots, she was rebuilt by 1937. Smaller, sure, but no less noble.

🐴 Brighty: The Bronze Sentinel

Now, folks have rightly been askin': what of Brighty? That lil' bronze burro in the Lodge lobby, standin' guard like a diminutive, four-legged marshal? Brighty weren’t no ordinary statue. He was based on a real canyon legend—a wild burro adopted by the North Rim in the early 1900s after bein' forsaken by a gold-hungry prospector. That little fella carried water, ferried children, and nuzzled his way into the hearts of every soul who crossed his trail. Even got hisself a book and a Disney flick, if you can believe it.

Word from the ashes says Brighty survived—mostly. He's lookin' a bit cooked, like he took a nap in a Dutch oven set too high, but his proud little face still stands resolute. Singed but not surrendered. Just like the canyon folk who loved him.

🔥 Twin Fires and a Toxic Turn

Now here’s where things get twistier than a politician at a poker table. There were two fires dancin’ around them woods—the White Sage Fire to the north, and Dragon Bravo, born of a July 4th lightning strike, like some infernal firework show gone rogue.

White Sage never touched the Lodge, but it did give the local folks a scare, triggerin' early evacuations. Then came Dragon Bravo—meaner, faster, and armed with the worst of timing. On July 12th, she tore through the forest with the fury of a stampede, and the North Rim’s fate was sealed.

But the story don’t end there, nosiree. When Dragon Bravo reached the North Rim’s water treatment plant, it caused a chlorine gas leak—a poisonous vapor more spiteful than a rattlesnake in a root cellar. The park had to shut down every corridor trail from rim to river—North and South Kaibab, Bright Angel, all of ‘em. Phantom Ranch was evacuated faster than a saloon when a preacher walks in.

With the air too toxic and visibility choked by smoke, fire crews had to pull back. Aerial tankers were grounded. And so the Lodge, noble as she was, stood alone as fire swept through.

Now, I hear folks askin’—Could this have been prevented? Was someone asleep at the reins? Well, partner, this here blog ain’t no kangaroo court. My aim ain't to stir up blame, but to bear witness and guide weary travelers forward.

📽️ The Lodge is Ash, But the Canyon Endures

The Grand Canyon Lodge is gone. And the North Rim—once the quieter, more contemplative sibling to the South—is closed tight for the remainder of 2025, maybe longer. But let me tell ya, the canyon herself? She don’t so much as blink. The fire scorched her crown, sure, but the heart of the canyon remains untouched.

The cliffs still glow at sundown. The wind still sings lullabies to the juniper trees. The hawks still ride the thermals like poets on invisible horses. You see, the Canyon is older than every map, every memory, every misstep. She's survived centuries of flame, flood, and foolhardiness. She’ll survive this, too.

🏞️ Jacob Lake Inn & Kaibab Lodge Still Stand

Now for some good news—Jacob Lake Inn and Kaibab Lodge weathered the blaze. Praise be. But their trials ain't over. With the North Rim closed, these local lifelines now face an economic drought deeper than a dry well in July.

If you hold these places dear—and you oughta—stop in. Buy a slice of pie. Pick up a postcard. Share a tale or a kind word. In times like these, community ain’t just a notion—it’s a necessity. And in my day, we knew to take care of our neighbors with action, not just sentiment.

📄 A New Chapter Risin'

The Lodge may be ash, but she ain't forgotten. History ain't a straight line—it’s a lasso, circlin’ back on itself and spinnin’ out new beginnings. Just as she rose from the embers of ’32, I reckon she’ll rise again. Maybe not the same—but perhaps something even finer.

You see, the Canyon teaches us resilience. She shows us that calamity and creation ride tandem—like two old prospectors sharing a mule. Loss ain't the end. It’s an invitation to remember, rebuild, and rise.

✉️ What Now, Fellow Wanderer?

So maybe your North Rim plans are toastier than a marshmallow on a campfire stick. Don’t hang up your spurs just yet. I done made another video called “North Rim Burned… Now What?”—where I show ya fresh trails, alternate routes, and canyon escapades still ripe for the takin’.

And if you're lookin’ for a step-by-step plan to make the most of your visit now that the South Rim’s the only game in town, I’ve drawn up a mighty fine one-day itinerary just for you. Saddle up and head over to GrandCanyonPosse.com/itineraries to grab it. It’s got all the fixin’s—from sunrise spots to sunset sendoffs, meals, hikes, and hidden gems in between.

Turns out, there’s more than one way to dance with this canyon.

Until our trails cross again—may your coffee be strong, your boots be true, and your spirit stay wilder than a mustang in spring.

See ya down the trail, my friend.