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Fortunately it’s only 40 miles north of Phoenix
on Interstate 17, and another 40 miles up into the
cool mountain side. A quick translation of that
location means it’s commuting distance, and in
the summer 40 – 50 degrees cooler.
Years ago it was a quiet cowboy town where
rodeos and western movies were made. Today
those 40 miles are lined with commercial box
stores from Costco, Home Depot, Sears, and Wal
Mart to 7-11’s, pizza joints, and Jiffy Lube.
Everything you could ask for including our
favorite In & Out, the hamburger joint.
Long ago we swore off fast food restaurants.
Now if we find a Costco we’ll stop for lunch.
But, there’s one exception. It’s In & Out. Every
where we find one we stop for a burger. We
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even helped, with hundreds to open one in
Dallas. They are hopefully finding their way east.
Here in Prescott we stopped for two
cheeseburgers, fries and soda. Good enough and
calories for several days. Each guy or gal works
at one station for about two hours, then moves
on to another. They rotate through every step
including taking orders. This keeps them alert
and they know what’s happening.
In the center of the old town square is the court
house, surrounded by tall oaks and well kept
jewelry, antique and western stores. The old
st
hotel, Elks Theater, and 1 Wells Fargo bank,
Are all surrounded by an older residential area.
Therr sides are surrounded by the national
forest. It’s a lovely small city.
Across from the square you can see the theater,
with the flag pole, and the old hotel on the
corner. We’ve enjoyed our visits to Prescott
shopping, dining, and the theater.
We attended a stage show at the renovated opera
house. All the ushers were dressed in period
costumes matching the 1880’s. The theater was
beautiful with lots of sculptures, heavy curtains,
loges, and comfortable golden seats covered with
burgundy velvet. We saw, appropriately, a
western story of the ‘Fred Harvey’s Girls’.
In the market we bought antique cups and
saucers and a silver squash blossom necklace.
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The summer flea market at the court house was
in full swing. We were drawn to the
Southwestern pottery, and art. We found a print
of one of Tarkay’s women. Arlene can’t resist
his beautiful pastel ladies.
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Sedona
The best way to get to Sedona is to continue
along the mountain tops to Jerome. Its still
limited access for RV’s but we had no trouble.
Jerome is perched on the mountain side. We
stopped to walk up and down it’s street, and sat
outside the ice cream parlor enjoying a large
double scoop of chocolate chip mint and butter
pecan cone. Bicyclists passed headed down the 5
mile mountain into Cottonwood. While we
watched out across the desert valley’s red cliffs.
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Sedona is another of the grand towns along the
Colorado Plateau. With the economy doing so
well everyone in Phoenix leaves during the
summer for these cooler mountains. We had
traded our Bermuda time share for a week at
Sunterra Springs. It’s a good way to break the
camping routine. We also rented a car for the
week. It’s embarrassing to say that we might
have abused the rental car as we drove all over
the back country.
Arlene fell in love with the place immediately.
Sedona is a grand place for almost everything.
There’s great hiking, Indian dwellings, some
grand shopping and good restaurants.
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It’s a spiritual spot, a vortex for the religious and
a pilgrimage. Catholics sisters built a grand
cathedral in the hills.
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We were swept up with the enthusiasm and
energy of Sedona. First we went to a lecture by
Crow Chief ‘Ted Kills in the Fog’ . He was a
multiple tour Green Beret, and a rodeo man who
had turned inward to follow his path. That got
us started, then we went on an evening tour in
the hills to a Medicine Circle.
David an archeologist who went to Mexico to
write his doctorates and live among the Indians
was our guide. He told us that his hosts turned
the table on him and didn’t speak to him for 2
months.
Do you remember poor Carlos Castanlanos. He
went to live with the Indians in Mexico to
prepare and research his Doctorate at USC. He
wrote a book about his experience. In fact he
wrote several books, all about peyote, and drugs.
All were best sellers for months over several
years and made him a very wealthy man. Only
USC didn’t like it and wouldn’t give him a degree.
David, our guide thereby had some really good
qualifications. He took us on a jeep ride at
sundown to the Medicine Circle.
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The Medicine Circle was on a remote mountain
top in the forest. The sun was falling below the
mountains and it was beautiful. He explained
that the circle represented all faiths and races. It
had four sections North, South, East, and West.
Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring, and the four
colors of the worlds major races, Red, Black
White and Yellow. The circle was all
encompassing.
To feel the spiritual significance one enters the
circle from the east and walks counter clock wise
until the spirit moved you. Then you were to
stop. Among the four major locations that
represented almost everything; there was also an
animal representation. So at the point where you
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stopped you would be assigned the sign of an
animal.
One guest circled twice before almost collapsing
from the strength of the spirit. Her reading was
to ‘find a new beginning’. She was truly rejoiced.
Another guest found her spot. It was the
northern point, and represented by a black bear.
The reading was for ‘consideration and
introspection’.
I circled several times before I felt the spirit. I
was near the yellow racial color and represented
by a golden eagle. I might be expected to find
new pathways to travel.
So all was going well, except Arlene kept trying
and circling, without a single twitch. Finally
David intervened suggesting Arlene stop at the
sign of the White Buffalo. She, he said should
teach from her knowledge, to her children.
In the center was a smaller circle, representing
the unknown. We sacrificed spiritual smoke to
this center piece after praying for the welfare of
all humans, mothers, fathers, children, enemies
and such.
It was a swell tour.
The next day we drove into the back country
with our rental, around some pretty rough roads,
all dirt, and came across one bull on open range
cow.
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Neither of us were interested in having a run in.
One day we hiked to the Vultee Arch. It was a
solitary hike, into the canyons.
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We also drove these endless, mapless roads
wandering around until we came to the Honanki
Ruins.
These were against a cliff, but unlike the other
dwelling we’d seen they were not in the cliffs.
Seldom do we come across ruins that are not
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not maintained or looked over by the State or
Federal Government. These ruins weren’t. We
were free to wander.
It reminded me of my childhood, where many
places my parents took us were unsupervised so
to speak. Back then they would be left as they
were found. That’s changed in the following
years.
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We crawled around them, but there were no
ladders. They were said to be around 1100 BC.
During our last several days we went to an open
house at the local brewery, Dry Creek. It was
difficult to pull ourselves away from the smooth
amber and nut brown ales.
We couldn’t shy away from Sedona’s shopping
particularly to the famous Tlaquepaque Plaza.
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It is a replica of the Mexican Plaza and did we
have a good time. We bought several silver
bracelets, and some Izod pants for me. There
were oriental carpets that were magnificent, but
we had sworn off of them many years ago. After
buying far too many. We also came across a time
share office that was selling an incredible bargain.
It was in Kroger National Park, South Africa. It
was high season all year around which made it
good for trading and only cost $300.00 plus a
maintenance fee of $150.00a year. We turned it
down, but…..
We’ve returned to Sedona for Alyx and Jim’s
wedding and a visit to Tlaquepaque Plaza with
Pam.
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We stayed in our Casita at the Dead Horse Ranch
State Park. A quiet place during the big affair.
North of Sedona we headed toward Flagstaff.
We’ve found Arizona filled with some of the best
road trips in the country. This continues to be
one of the best mountain roads, Route 89A, in
Arizona. Whereas we’ve come back up onto the
Colorado Plateau into Prescott and across the top
of the mountains through Jerome down into the
valley and Sedona. Route 89 now takes us up
the valley weaving among the cliffs and forests
along Oak Creek to Flagstaff.
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We moved through Flagstaff quickly stopping at
Sams Warehouse, one the eastern side of town
and driving along the famous U.S. Route 66 into
town, to the park for lunch and a visit to an
Army-Navy store for a couple of cowboy
bandanas.
Then out of town toward the snow capped San
Francisco peaks. The road side had been cleared,
of brush and small trees, which had been left
along side. I couldn’t resist the white aspen
laying there so we stopped to cut another walking
stick.
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4 ARIZONA: # 2
GRAND CANYON’S
Grand Canyon
South Rim
Inversion, Owls, and Snow
Page
Lake Powell
Rainbow Bridge
Antelope Canyon
Horse shoe canyon
North Rim
Buckskin State Park
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South Rim
Whether it’s cold or hot it’s always good news to
have electricity in the campground. The South
Rim Village at the Grand Canyon National Park
has it. And despite the close quarters, utilities are
welcomed. The South side of the canyon is a
very busy tourist attraction.
Unlike so many camps it draws different kinds of
people. Here there a lot of foreign visitors and
city dwellers. Most of the RV’s are rented, and
packed in side by side. Showing us that they
might not be quite as carrying of the
environment as ordinary campers or visitors.
We have been here many times. During one visit
we met up with our friends Shelly and Bernie.
We hadn’t seen them since the terrible loss by
Miami at the football game in Tempe. We visited
and walked down along the canyon rim to the
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Bright Angel Trail.
There were lots of people. Here too, we noticed
a difference between Campers, and ordinary
sightseers and tourist. The later are livelier,
climbing out on narrow promontories for
pictures or standing within inches of the edge on
a slippery sandy path. They often were dressed
for a night out rather than a day in the blazing
sun, with flip flops or even high heels, instead of
boots or hiking sandals. They seem to be
packing as much as they could in a short time.
The Bright Angel Trail leads to the bottom of the
canyon and the Phantom Ranch. Many people
hike down, or ride mules down to the Colorado
River and spend the night there. It’s got to be an
adventure of a lifetime. This is not exactly our
cup of tea. At the beginning the trail its narrow,
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and winds around some sandy stone cleffs. I felt
like holding both my arms out and inching along
walls with sideway steps with sweaty hands.
We noticed that people going down were
cheerful, laughing and talkative. The one’s
coming up was tight lipped, open mouthed,
gasping for air, at the 6,000 ft. They were quiet
and surprisingly took long strides. David our
guide in Sedona had told us to take short steps,
and breath deeply as in Yoga. It would help us
lower our heart rate.
Far below we could see the trail cross over from
the white cliffs to red, and a small outhouse.
There aren’t many outhouses, so you can imagine
the appreciation Shelly got when he helped a
young lady find a place to pee on the side of the
trail.
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Below we could also see a mule train coming.
My first thought was to turn and run for the rim.
I didn’t, instead we searched and found a turn in
the trail that had a little shade, and climbed up
the side off the path.
It’s no wonder that we wanted to bolt. Mule
train captain’s are given the same right-of-way as
a ship’s captain. They rule the trail. What they
say goes. So… if they asked us to step to the
outside of the trail while they passed. We would
be obliged to do so.
For Arlene that might not be a big deal as she
was never so good a mate as to listen to her
Captain. But, for me that was law.
We watched as they passed. But further down
was another train. They seemed to be resting, as
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they hadn’t moved for a while. In fact under
closer surveillance with our binoculars, each
mule was standing with it’s forefeet on the edge
of the trail. Their head and neck hanging over
the side.
Hello!! We’re talking about 1,000 feet of clear air
between their head and the next solid ground.
Alert!! To All: the crazy, trusting riders were still
on the mules. That doesn’t translate into a
vacation. No that’s shear insanity.
We could say a lot more, but it was enough for us
not to show our fear when we got back on the
rim and asked about trips to the bottom. Sure,
we could sign up, but the waiting list was two
years long. That’s what can happen to people on
vacation. They can lose all their marbles, and
choose such things.
Not everyone rides mules. But, those that do
may be so sore afterwards they can’t walk for a
week. Many hike to the bottom, which is more
to our likening. We saw a few straggly looking
characters, covered with dust, with back packs
and sleeping gear. They were passing us one by
one. Gasping for breath. The young lady that
Shelly helped talked to us about areas we couldn’t
see.
As she caught her breath she told us that the hike
was worth it and would do it again. At the
Phantom Ranch they had steak and eggs for
breakfast, and steak for dinner. That ought to
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pump you up for the climb back up the canyon.
The mules packed in all the supplies for the
Phantom Ranch each day.
As we climbed out we saw a California Condor
sitting on an out cropping of rock. This is the
largest bird in North America, and believed to be
almost extinct, down to a couple of dozen.
Environmentalist have nurtured them from
chicks and recently released them into the
Canyon. There are now over 200, but their
longevity is questioned because they eat marine
animals that are filled with DDT. That grand
pesticide that kills the bugs on our plants, and
whose runoff fills our streams. When in flight
you can see the large white number they’ve
painted on their wings.
A little further east of the main Visitors Center is
the Yavapai Observation Station where we could
see the Colorado River, a swinging suspension
bridge and the roof of the famous Ranch. Across
the canyon there were pathways leading toward
the North Rim. It looked much easier a trip until
the very end and the final steep cliffs at the top.
For as many times as we’ve been here I’ve always
wondered and asked how you could describe
such an awesome place. There may not be
anything like it in the world. Maybe the deepest
hole anywhere, above sea level. As for sure
ocean trenches are 5, 6, even 7 times deeper, like
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the Mariana Trench at 7.6 miles, and 5 times
longer than the Grand Canyon.
Often we here it’s Awesome. Some describe it as
marvelous, or as a gigantic hole. But few
elaborate beyond a few words.
Several years ago we met a friendly German
couple visiting Bryce Canyon. He was a pilot
for Lufthansa and had taken fighter training in
Texas when a young man. He used to hot dog
his jet across Texas and New Mexico to the
Grand Canyon. A 20 minute trip. What was
remarkable was his description. It was a
different explanation.
Flying, at 50-60 feet above the trees he would
invert his plane and rip out across the Canyon.
All of a sudden there was nothing under him, he
was weightless. It was at once shocking and
exhilarating.
I’ve kept that thought, like being in an elevator
that just dropped 5 floors. My stomach just
flipped again.
There is no place like it. In North America there
may be two places to go. One is to see wild life.
The Yellowstone National Park has more wild
animals that any. It in addition has a bewildering
display of geological thermals from inside the
earth. But if you want to see as much of the
Earths crust as possible. If you want to see the
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history of our planet then here it is. The most
awesome of all it’s the Grand Canyon.
In 2012 we rode the commuter bus out to the
south end of the park, and hiked back along the
rim trail. It’s marked for each year the canyon is
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Looking up the valley, searching for the main
stream of the Colorado, there are layers of rocks,
striated in shapes and colors; white, red, tan,
brown, gray, some green grasses on plateaus, and
short dark green wind blown trees growing out of
crevices. Shear cliffs, sharply slanted hillsides,
with rocks and some bushes, more cliffs with
ancient carved lines from drainage, and blocks of
stone layered upon blocks.
The uninterrupted valley has no bottom.
Canyons of many sizes run off from it. There are
towers that reach high into the sky. Some with
block heads like thunder clouds, others like
needles, and triangles. There are plateaus, gray
and flat with shrubs here and there, that a thin
line crosses, a trail, then off the edge they plunge,
deeply into the bottom of the earth.
I stand on the edge; with each foot getting closer
my equilibrium grows more unstable. I’m
weaving to and fro, and my mind’s swirling. It’s
too close and gravity is tugging at me. I step
back, both feet on the ground, and a hand
reaches for a spindly cedar. The crazies stop.
Down below a crooked stripe crosses a plateau,
it’s must be 2,000 feet below us. It’s tiny, and
along it are moving objects even smaller. They
must be hikers.
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There are some white specs that haven’t moved.
Surely not boats as they would have moved. If
they were signs, we could only imagine what
they’d say, and how a hiker would feel about
them.
What if a hiker who had climbed down over
thousands of years of rock and sediment to a
sign Warning of a wash out ahead. What if it said
the bridge was closed and they would have to
swim for it. Please use Life Preserves. What if
the sign said simply….STOP!…you can go no
further! Return The Way You Came!
We’ve encountered closed roads and other
obstructions on hikes, yet never one telling us we
should return the way we came.
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We have been riding the shuttles for three days.
And there is only one word that describes the
drivers. They put up with everything and
everyone, all the heavy hiking equipment, bags,
camera’s, and walking sticks of all kinds. Most
riders are patient, waiting for the handicap, with
wheel chairs to board, letting everyone off before
boarding themselves. It’s something to see, and
becomes more impressive as the temperature
increases during the afternoon, and the travelers
become more aggressive and agitated. The Word
is BRAVO! BRAVO to the Bus Drivers.
Inversion, Owls, and Snow
Our last trip to the South Rim of the Grand
Canyon was one of the most spectacular. We
arrived in early December 2014, for a couple of
days, planning to move on to Monument Valley.
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It was mostly a stop along the way. The camp is
usually open until late January, yet even now
there were only a few RV’s. That usually makes a
pretty nice visit. We set up camp and jumped on
the shuttle to go to the rim. We weren’t sure if
we’d get out and hike around or just ride, as it
was pretty cold. But, much to our surprise there
was no deep canyon to see. It was filled with
clouds. They called it an inversion.
It was incredible, like flying over the clouds.
Only you knew that below them were all the
rugged towers, cliffs, and plateaus a mile deep.
Could this be something like astronauts see; our
blue earth? The inversion only lasted for a while.
It occurs infrequently, every several years or so
and lasts less than a day.
We don’t know if there was an alert, a sign that
told hikers to STOP, return to the rim, or not.
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We did talk to a couple of ladies who had just
returned from the Phantom Ranch the day
before.
They were so excited about their adventure and
couldn’t believe that they were also here to see
the inversion. We had been on the road most of
the day and pretty tired, and exhausted after this
event. We returned to the trailer and turned up
the heat.
The next day was grand and sunny. We walked
the rim and visited the many curio and
concession shops. In one, The Lookout Studio,
we came across two Owl andirons. We own a
pair just like them, and asked about them. We
thought they were French. That my father had
brought them back as WWI booty. No one knew
where they were from. They had been there
before the National Park took over from the
brothers who owned the shop.
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It was a grand day. We returned to camp early,
had a quiet dinner and went to bed.
About 3:00 am, our usual early morning relief
break, we woke to a very quiet camp. Outside
the forest was filling with snow. 3-4 inches of
beautiful soft fluffy flakes filled the air. We put
on our boots and jackets and waded up to the
head. It was lovely, we didn’t even need a flash
light to guide us.
Coming back we realized that the weather
forecasts had missed the storm by a day, and we
should pack up before it got worse.
Before we left Georgia we had considered snow
as a possibility. We found some slip-on socks,
snow coverings for our tires. They were
supposed to be easy to slide onto the tires, and
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good for 20-30 miles, which was perfect for
exiting parks like the Grand Canyon. We’d
ordered them, but they were to small for our
tires. We sent them back.
It took us a couple of hours, hitching the trailer,
eating breakfast and storing our goods. It
continued to snow as we headed out. Our
destination we thought would be Phoenix. When
we got to Interstate 40 even before Flagstaff we
were sure it would be Phoenix. We slid and
slogged our way south through the snow, then
the sleet past Sedona, into the rain before finally
near Phoenix clouds.
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Page
There isn’t a blizzard each time we visit. We’ve
found the good cheer of the thousands of visitors
to the Grand Canyon to be swell. With their help
and the staff we’ve really had good times, seen
everything we wanted and leave with good
feelings.
Leaving this time, during the summer we choose
from two routes to get to Page. Our choice was
the longer, by 50 miles. It was the scenic route.
We took our time, 45 mph out the east side of
the Canyon. Almost no one leaves by the east
side. Usually, visitors come in the South
entrance, from Flagstaff or Williams. The
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interesting aspect of the East Entrance and the
Desert View Drive are the Colorado River views.
We stopped several times, Once at a sign warning
us to keep an eye out for Mountain Lions. We
did, but didn’t see one.
From 6,000 feet we steadily drove down hill to
around 4,000 where we crossed the ‘Little
Colorado’ River. This river is the same that we
have fished and kayaked near Austin Texas. It is
damned there and called Lake Travis. We
crossed it several times.
Near the bottom we were able to choose to take
the short cut or not. We’d seen enough and took
the short cut to Page.
On this trip to the Grand Canyon we had
problems with one of our tires. I had decided it
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was time to replace it. At Page we went directly
to Wal Mart and had it replaced.
That was the beginning of an extravagant buying
spree. We spent ourselves silly, groceries, a
private campground, tickets for a Lake Powell
Cruise, and tickets to the Upper Antelope
Canyon. We didn’t quit before we had dinner at
a recommended Chinese restaurant. Dinner was
terrible. It will be a while before we follow up on
some ones friendly suggestion.
Lake Powell
The cruise was out of the Wahweep Resort. It’s a
National Recrecation Area run by contractors,
who as usual over charged. Our private RV
camp cost $25 while this one charged $50. It’s
on the hillside of Lake Powell. There’s mormon
tea bushes scattered over the red Navajo
sandstone, otherwise it’s pretty barren.
We were scheduled for the good ship Canyon
Odessey. It’s a big boat with 8’ draft, and 2
screws. All 40 of us fit easily, with the crew and
lady captain. It was about a ¼ mile down the
steep hillside to the pier,. I suspect it’s so far
because of the multi-year drought. The lake had
a bathtub ring 40 feet up the side of the redstone
walls.
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We left our slip with a reminder of safety
precautions and a tour of the marina, which had
about 200 boats. Those might have been the
number of houseboats. Boy; there was a lot of
them.
Out on the lake each houseboat seemed to be
pulling a speed boat and a couple of seadoos.
We asked about rentals, and were told they gave
an hour’s training. Tells you how to beach, tie up
and which side of the buoy you should pass.
All you needed to sign up was a Visa and some
identification, like a driver’s license. We asked
who rescued the ‘renters’. It was our crew. The
Captain pointed aft ‘The guy with the blue shirt.’
We’re getting a taste of the waterway quickly.
Outside of the marina our nose lifted as her twin
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engines came to life. We might not be the fastest
on the lake, but we probably had more power.
Shortly after our burst of power we slowed while
approaching a houseboat.
Houseboats on pontoons are pretty tipsy. The
captain explained, as one wave strikes them
sideways and lifts one side up, another catches
them and flips them over, they turn turtle easily.
She slowed from a 3 foot wave to a no wave as
we passed.
She also made a note of the boat, the time and
where we were. Suppose that’s more than good
seamanship. I’d say it was legal protection
against being sued.
With that briefing we began our 50 mile trek up
the dammed Colorado. Lake Powell is over 180
miles long, up to the Cataract rapids. Its shore
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line is estimated to be greater than California’s
Pacific Coast. That’s a lot of shore, back bays
and hidden coves.
It’s difficult to imagine this place without it’s lake.
It’s so different from the Grand Canyon. It
doesn’t reveal the earth’s epochs. These cliffs and
deserts support little vegetation. The walls are
rounded steep and bald. At the highest peaks it’s
white shale with shells and fossils, below is the
Navajo Redstone.
In some places walls are shear in others they’re
layered like pancakes. And everywhere the 40
foot white stripe that marks the regular water line
above the lake. Even with a long drought there’s
supposed to be 10 years of water in the lake. At
the dam and several other places it’s over 400
feet deep.
This is beautiful hiking country. To the north is
the Escalante Stair Case, and Canyonlands
National Park, with it’s famous Maze and
Needles districts. Literally hundreds of miles of
undeveloped, desolate land. I’m sure anchoring
and climbing the walls out of the lake would be a
challenge, but once up and out the back country
would be a marvelous adventure. This is the last
area in America to be mapped.
The further up the lake the lower the hillsides
and the more inlets. At buoy 42 we passed our
last marina.
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Rainbow Bridge
At Buoy 50 we entered a side canyon. We took a
turn off the main channel into a smaller channel
that looked narrow and deep. Deep from the
shear walls, and the dark sapphire blue water. It
wasn’t either a straight or short channel. The
shear cliffs wound back and forth causing us to
move in a snake like pattern. There were a few
small canyons off to the sides, yet it didn’t look
easy to anchor, because of the steep walls. We
were boxed in and could only see the white walls
and the pale blue cloudless sky. With each turn it
became narrower. Our last turn pinned us to the
walls. A narrow boardwalk was secured to the
walls. We had arrived at our destination; the
natural bridge, but it was nowhere in sight.
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We each had two bottles of water, as we stepped
off the boat. The end of the dock turned around
the canyon and led to a sandy trail under the
walls.
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We followed along the trail above a dry wash that
once was a small stream. We hadn’t noticed how
hot it was until we got off the boat. It was hot,
100 or so. We drank our water, as we moved
along it was easy to feel and see how desolate,
how removed we were from any form of human
habitat.
The walls of the canyon were stark, the wash, dry
with a few grasses clumped on its sunny side.
Rocks lined it’s sides, that fell from above or
were washed down during the monsoon season.
We scrambled around the last corner and the
bridge which we’d partially seen, came into full
sight.
This was the Rainbow Bridge. Tucked away in
this remote canyon. It was redish, from the
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natural sandstone with black triangle water stains
running down it’s sides.
Natural Bridges often are seen as spiritual, and
considered sacred ground. Many stories are told
about them. We were told that the color of the
bridge was created by the sun setting, not the
daily sun.
On one side there was a long slender strip of
sandstone reaching nearly to the top.
Once two Navajo boys were playing and grabbed
a lizard by its tail. Losing its tail the lizard had to
grow it back. The boys caught the lizard many
times and each time the lizard grew its tail back.
One day the Lizard God turned the lizard into
stone and forever more its tail would be attached.
Yes we could see the 60 foot lizard attached to
the side of the bridge.
After the Europeans discovered Rainbow Bridge
it grew in popularity. Although your not
supposed to climb over it. Many have, including
Senator Barry Goldwater, and Steward Udall,
who have slept on top.
We made it back to the boat and for an another
couple of hours returned with a breeze across our
bow to Wahweep.
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Episode V
Antelope Canyon
We had planned to take the noon tour through
the canyon because a vertical sun filtering
through would show the dust rays. We were now
the first on the pick-up at 9:00 am. No one made
a peep when the driver asked if anyone had back
trouble. I suppose if they did they’d be asked to
get off. We took off, 10 of us. Even with the
tire pressure low we slipped, and slid through the
deep sand. It was like Canyon De Chelly and the
half track.
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We were bounced and giggled all the way. Some
where along my sketch book slid off the bench
into the dry wash. When I realized it my heart
sank. I’ve always told myself that the drawings
weren’t important. I’d undertaken them to
improve my appreciation of what I saw. But, to
my surprise its loss upset me, and I didn’t care
anymore about the slot canyon. I was thinking of
walking back along the three mile track to find it.
I knew I had to put this loss into prospective.
The sketches included a month’s worth of
traveling, consideration of what to see, how to
look at it, and the time to draw it. Who would
have guessed beside Arlene that my ego was
involved. And, now the sinking feeling that it
was gone.
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When we arrived at the canyon entrance I tried
hard to readjust, and get ready for the tour. First
I told the tour guide that I’d lost it about 1 ½
miles back. She was great and said we’d look for
it on the way back. Secondly, I started taking
pictures. They take less time, but don’t have the
same effect as drawing.
We’d seen a lot of photos of slot canyons around
Page, including Alyx and Jim’s, and National
Geographic’s . They were all surreal, and
amazing. But they didn’t prepare us for the
slender slot entrance 6 feet wide and 70 feet tall.
It was amazing. Cut through the Navajo
sandstone the rock slithered like a snake, with
irregular, narrow sides that reached to the sky.
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Sometimes with an opening and sometimes
bending away from the light and sun.
We were told that each rain storm changed the
surface. Sometimes a rain wash would carry
enough sand to raise the floor six feet. Another
might wash away even more than was previously
deposited. We couldn’t imagine the swirls and
cuts the water had made. Looking upward at
each swill took on a different light, causing their
shapes to rise and fall in total darkness, to lighter
and lighter oranges and reds. The light mingled
with the shapes. At the top a slight opening
would let the sun through often filtering through
the sandy dust.
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