I struggle to find the words to write about our destination the far side of the desert.. I find that the English language or rather my vocabulary just isn’t up to the task of giving a good description, so instead of attempting some inadequate words to describe what we saw I am going to write about how it felt. Because to me this place was all about feeling!
Imagine us in the car with no name, 8.30 in the morning. Mary Lou has been given new maps and Eric has her busy looking for a route. After two minutes she has proudly announced that she can’t find a route!!!!!! WHY- we are on a straight road for 50 miles with no turnings! Mary Lou tries again and again. I ask why are waiting for Mary Lou to tell us where to go, it’s a straight road. Eric is testing her apparently. She’s testing me! Eric silences her. Bliss!
The road climbs steadily for 50 miles, through more desert and then through trees which become a forest. The temperature is dropping steadily- 86F when we start down to 68F when we finally reach the entrance, pay our admission charge and drive to a car park. We can’t at this moment see what we have come to see.
We leave the car park and walk and arrive.
I am completely and utterly overwhelmed. I find that there are tears pouring down my face. I am so overcome with the magnificence of what I see, and now is where I wish I had the adjectives in my vocabulary to share what it looks like and what it feels like. So look…
I am thanking goodness for my new sunglasses so people can’t see that I am crying. ( NB I think they are quite glamorous, husband says I look like a gangster! Humph pirate, now gangster, you can count on a chap for complement).
One of the things I like about traveling is the conversations you get into with strangers. The bloke next to me starts to talk about hiking and how hot it is etc etc. I try to explain that I am finding it hard to talk at the moment, bit overwhelmed, crying.. He says, it does effect some people like that, kinda spiritual hey? Well yes I think that may describe my emotions, but somehow it is more than even that. The place feels sacred.
It is indeed the Grand Canyon. The name begins to annoy me- grand is too ordinary a word, it conjures up images of Duchesses or Buckingham Palace. These are Grand. But here, no it really needs a better name, an older name.
What do you think-Look again
Eric is in photo opportunity heaven. Most of the day he is looking like this
with a happy smile all day long. And most of the day I do this
and some of the time I wonder at the other people who are here. Walk, shoot,leave,walk,shoot leave. Why don’t they do this?
Maybe they do…
We come back for more the next day, minus Mary Lou who is left behind in the motel in disgrace! Give me a paper map any day.
I am better prepared and more composed, so no more tears. And I agree to posing for this
Eric tells me wistfully of the train that comes from town we are staying in all the way to the Grand Canyon, and sometimes they stage a robbery on the train and have a hold up!
I agree to pose here too.
Although I do feel a bit self conscious!
Now apparently you can hike to the bottom of the canyon which is a mile deep and five miles wide and many, many, many miles long. But it takes five hours down and the temperature would be in the 100s and you probably wouldn’t make it back up. You can however go on one of these chaps.
Mules! Aren’t they lovely? Much bigger than I expected, more the size of a small horse than a donkey.
And I am much taken with this
Traditional Indian weaving. And I am wondering what the Indian name for the Grand Canyon is and the people who were here before the Europeans arrived, and am gladdened that land was given back.
And this replica building catches my attention
And I wonder why so many Americans I talk to on my travels seem to envy the English heritage. There is a wonderful heritage here too, it’s just not old buildings, and Kings and Queens.
And then there is the Colorado river which caused this wonderful place.
But mostly I do this
And so ends two wonderful days. Tired of leg and with heads full of what we have experienced we head for the car park.
But where is the car with no name. I am sure we are in the right place. Husband says this is the wrong place there is no car. There is a red car. That is not our red car. We can’t face the walk to the wrong car. Try the car key- press the lock button. The red car cries beep, I am the car with no name! Oh Wow, thank you car with no name.
to be continued…all comments and thoughts welcomed.