RICHMOND — Apart from the insistent yipping of a dog or the frantic wailing of an infant, I gave up predawn risings once I moved on from the teenage excitement of Easter sunrise services. But at the Grand Canyon last year, my friend and I set our alarms. It was early May, and we emerged into a bone-chilling wind and temperatures far below what we'd enjoyed along the South Rim the previous, sunny afternoon. It looked a little cloudy in the east, so we wondered if this venture would turn out to be only an early route to breakfast. But the clouds vanished, and the sun appeared properly. We faced a stretch of canyon that had been nothing brighter than tan the day before, and spontaneous oohs and aahs erupted around us as the rocks turned orange. Totally worth getting up for.