Bryce Canyon When I woke up, Terry was laying on the deflated half of his air mattress. The other half, still partially inflated, jutted into the air and hit me in the face every time he moved, which was often. I stumbled my way through the cold morning air to the camp bathroom and was greeted by a far-too-cheerful-for-the-sun-not-being-up-yet Australian man. “G’day, mate!” at high volume in the early morning is a bit grating.