year in review

It wasn't always good, but it was another year, and that isn't too bad.

This year was a whirlwind. It was like a storm that sweeps through with such force you aren’t sure what’s happening. But when it’s passed, you take root again. For better or for worse.

It’s hard to look back with fondness since the winds have just settled. I don’t know quite yet what to think. But I'm pleased to be where I am and I'm looking forward to what it has lead up to.

"Most people don't know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don't get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life."

Brian Andreas

so i moved again

A lot has happened in the last month, but I still feel like I am going nowhere.

1. my grandmother passed away
2. my mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and aunt completed the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C. and I was a member of their support crew
3. I moved with my parents to North Carolina-packed, unpacked, settled in
4. saw Billy Elliot at Durham Performing Arts Center
   
5. memorial reception
6. 6 and a half hour interview for a year long internship at Beausol Gardens, have yet to hear back, cross your fingers!
   
7. aunt's birthday at Jordan Lake
8. knit a scarf and then another, and now I will knit a hat to match
9. went to MD to see family for Thanksgiving-ate too much, saw Tangled in 3D, played games, did a puzzle

So it has been a bit crazy, overwhelming and underwhelming, coaxing thoughts of what is my purpose here or there. I'm still not able to settle down, wanderlust has captured me and won't let me go! I'm on my way to Pittsburgh mid-week to visit friends and old haunts. I also want to travel abroad but I have been putting "real life" off for quite long enough. Now for the real job searches (but hopefully I get my farming internship), and the joining of clubs and organizations so I can find friends and make a life for myself here. North Carolina is beautiful- mountains in the west, ocean in the east, and forests and creeks and marshes in the middle. There is an abundance of trails, museums, pubs, food co-ops and people who want to make a difference in the world. I'm excited to be here but it will take awhile for me to get up the courage to begin putting my roots down here. I've been in limbo for so long, I look forward to creating a home but the wind keeps carrying me this way and that.

uprooted from the bank of New Hope Creek at the
Johnston Mill Nature Preserve, Chapel Hill, NC

a couple weeks ago

A couple weeks ago I drove to Montrose in Houston, TX to visit Anita and Austin for the weekend.

Their cats, The Baby Jesus (left) and Natasha (right).

Here are some of the things we did:

• We went out to dinner at Hollywood for a Vietnamese meal and shared a bottle of Andre champagne (typically $4).
• Anita and I went to the Rothko Chapel and to the Menil Collection to drink in Dadaist and Surrealist artwork.
• We grilled steak and made fajitas.
• We read books and played with the cats.
• Anita and I ate crepes to reminisce about our crepe making days.
• We went to brunch at Brasil, a restaurant with exposed brick walls, and poked around next door at Domy Books and were amused by the selection of books and novelties.

I had a lot of fun visiting a new city and seeing old friends. Thanks for your hospitality, guys!
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I had learned a bit about the Rothko Chapel in my Modern Art class at Pitt, but hadn't thought much about it. After all, 14 black paintings are just black, right? But when we were browsing the web for things to see in the area, we saw that the Rothko Chapel was just 3 blocks away, and free, so Anita and I decided to check it out.

It is not a traditional Christian chapel, but a nondescript brick building, and inside it is octagonal with a peaked ceiling that allows natural light to enter. On each wall hangs one or two or three large black paintings by Mark Rothko. No one is allowed to use a camera or phone or ipod while inside, keeping it silent for those who are there to meditate. When we were there, a couple student groups were sketching the architecture.

What struck me most was the depth of the paintings. One was reddish, one blueish, one had a hint of purple, one seemed almost velvety. Some had borders, also black, but the blacks were a slightly different shade. The line they made was full of intensity and stress, but was also calming. Rothko's brushstrokes were small on some, swooping on others; some were all horizontal while others were fully vertical. It surprised me how much intrigue I could find in these paintings that were all just black, after all.

The Rothko Chapel is an amazing space for people of all denominations to share in prayer or meditation or just observation. Although we weren't there for very long and we came in as art observers, walking out the doors into the warm Houston sun, I felt like it had changed me somehow.

Inside Rothko Chapel (photo borrowed from Studio Concrete)

Collections

My first two weeks back on the coast were spent sorting through my belongings and helping my parents sort through the house. I had held on to little trinkets through the years, keeping them as reminders of happy days and who I once was. But after driving a car full of my things 4000 miles, constantly worrying about what might happen (and forgetting to lock the car when hiking in Yosemite), I needed to reduce the bulk in my life. After all, these things do not define who I am, it is my relationships, my hopes and dreams, and the way in which I see the world that creates me. It was difficult and stressful, but highly rewarding to rid myself of unnecessary items.

My mom and I had a garage sale of all the things we had decided to discard. Excited shoppers arrived at 7:30 am, and I had to open the garage door while my tea steeped and my granola soaked in almond milk in the kitchen. By the time 9 am rolled around (the actual starting time), there was a lull, and about a third of our things had already been bought and we finally had time to organize and eat a soggy breakfast.

The sale was a success! Everything left over, we donated to Goodwill and the public library. And I felt a little lighter having gotten rid of things that had been holding me back, keeping me in the past.
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My grandma, my mom's mom, isn't doing well. I flew to North Carolina with my mom in order to see her, hoping that she might still remember who I am. When we walked around the corner of the nursing home and I saw her sitting in a chair, I could hardly believe that it was her. Her blue eyes had trouble focusing, and she seemed unable to form words in response. Her mouth was set in a permanent frown, a bleak contrast to the bright smile that used to lite up her face. Her hands, bent with arthritis, searched out others, and I gave her mine, hoping to give her comfort.

In the mid-90s in Marion, NY, she played with me and my sister in her backyard. The ball rolled into a hole and I picked it up only to find myself swarmed by yellowjackets. We ran into the house, my sister swatted at bees in the kitchen and I retreated to the bathroom with my grandma. I was crying and screaming, covered in bees and my grandma calmed me down, picking bees off of me, one at a time, squishing them between her fingers.

My grandparents had a garden, but as they grew older they stopped planting vegetables and what was left were rows of raspberry bushes. When we visited in the summer, my sister and I would pick Japanese beetles off of the leaves and put them in a little bucket of water. Then, we counted them as we tossed them down the food disposal in the sink, and grandma gave us a penny for every beetle.
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Three Willets, searching for a feast in the shallow water in the St. Louis Bay.

I went for a walk on the beach today. I left my book, snacks, towel, phone, and shoes in the car and walked barefoot across the sand and through the shallow waters carrying only my camera. There is nothing quite as joyous and carefree as walking barefoot, feeling the ground beneath your feet.

The wet sand squeezed between my toes as I waded in the water. Little mounds of sand speckled the shallows, crawfish! hiding under the sand, out of sight. Blue dragonflies and little butterflies quickly flitted by, disappearing against the blue water and sky. Three willets walked on their stilt-legs, dropping their long beaks into the water to grab a snack. They flew away, startled, when I walked by. My feet skimmed the top of the water, making splashes, and I felt like a kid, kicked the water, and watched as it splashed and broke into little droplets, falling again into itself.

The sun, the sand, the chirping of birds, the warm breeze, the cool water--it helped my mind and body relax and forget about yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I am here, now, alive.

End of this road

I left Tucson on Thursday later than I had originally wanted. I wasn't feeling well so I took my time loading up the car and went to a co-op to grab some groceries for the next few days. I didn't make it to Alamogordo, NM early enough to visit White Sands National Monument so I tended to my aching body and headed to the dunes in the morning.

White Sands National Monument sits at the northern end of the Chihuahuan Desert in the Tularosa Basin. The gypsum dunes encompass 275 square miles of desert and are the largest gypsum dune field in the world and one of the world's natural wonders. Gypsum isn't usually found as sand as it is soluble in water, however no river drains the basin in which White Sands sits, trapping it in the desert climate as sand.

I took a couple short hikes, the first a 1 mile trail in the ecotone between the Chihuahuan Desert, speckled with shrubs and cactus and small trees, and the nearly barren gypsum sands that glisten with the sun for miles. I saw different little animal tracks near the trail, not really identifying them, probably beetles, but I did recognize the tracks of a pocket mouse. Most of the dune creatures have evolved to become as white as their surroundings, including the little mouse, but they usually rest in the shade in the heat of the sun.

White Sands National Monument.

I followed the road into the center of the dune field and walked along another trail. I veered off, always aware of the trail, since it is easy to get lost in the white expanse, took off my shoes and walked up a tall dune. The sand wasn't hot like that found at the beach, but cool, and I dug my toes into the sand. The dunes seemed to dampen any sound that might otherwise carry, and it was refreshingly quiet of any modern day sounds. Finally, I put my shoes back on and hit the road again.

Saturday morning I headed into Carlsbad Caverns National Park, also in New Mexico. This park is also in the Chihuahuan Desert but in the Guadalupe Mountains. Heading in, the desert and mountains were something I had been seeing for hundreds of miles, and I wasn't totally impressed but I knew the caverns lurked beneath the surface. I walked down the switchbacks into the Natural Entrance, dark and ominous. The patch was paved and once in the depths, which would normally be pitch-black, there were small lights placed behind the speleothems casting dim light and shadows across the walls. It was incredibly mysterious, the air was cool and damp and smelled a bit stale. My heart beat a bit faster, not because it was strenuous, but because it was exciting. I imagined what it was like to be one of the first explorers, heading into the cave blind (no map, no path, no lights), not knowing when the cave might fall away into a pit (which do exist there).

Ansel Adams described Carlsbad Cavers as "...something that should not exist in relation to human beings. Something that is as remote as the galaxy, incomprehensible as a nightmare, and beautiful in spite of everything."

I walked the 2 miles through the Main Corridor and into the Big Room, winding around columns and stalagmites, under stalactites and soda straws peppered with popcorn (yes, these are all terms of speleothems, not just items at the movie theater). I had never seen anything quite like this. It was quiet in the caverns, but if another tourist commented about the rocks in anything above a whisper, if echoed through the cave. Back on the surface, the sun was bright and the air was hot.

I drove as long as I could that afternoon because I had made the decision to skip my exploration of Texas and to drive the 1000+ miles home to the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I was tired and not feeling well and as I said before, getting frustrated with the endless unpacking and packing of the car every day. And I'll still head to Texas in a few weeks to visit Anita in Houston.

(click here to see more photos from my 2 week long, 4000 mile road trip)

Half-way point

Yosemite is absolutely stunning. It is an oasis for hikers, kayakers, climbers, and hang-gliders. However, I imagine it was even better before the miles of pavement crowded with minivans and sports cars. (See the mention of the creation of "National Parking Lots" in Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire). After hours of driving, a long hike sounded good, but I had to be sure to show up at a campground before dark, hoping there would be a spot for me. I went for a short hike up to the top of Vernal Falls and sat around the Emerald Pool. The valley was carved by glaciers and water still flows through, although not much late in the summer, most is in the spring from snow melt.

I made it to Bridalveil Creek Campground, elevation 7,200, just before dark and set up my tent in the mountain air. I drove out to Glacier Point at the end of the road for an Astronomy talk as stars appeared and listened to a young NPS Ranger as the told myths behind different constellations. Then I hunkered in for a chilly night. And it was COLD. After the sun rose and my things were packed, my car flashed a snowflake next to the number 32.

View of Yosemite Valley (and Half Dome) from Glacier Point after sunrise.

I woke up earlier than I had hoped, due to my frozen nose and toes, but headed back to Glacier Point to view Yosemite Valley- Half Dome and all - in the daylight. Then I hiked to the top of Sentinal Dome (not as impressive as it sounds) where I stood on the top of the granite dome and surveyed the valley below. I then took a stroll on the McGurk Meadow trail where little butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Finally, I walked through Mariposa Grove to see the Fuzzy Giant, Faithful Couple, and other notable Sequoias.

Then onward to Los Angeles- a huge, sprawling city with definite traffic problems. I was overwhelmed, to say the least, by the 12 lane highways and the far reaches of urbanity and suburbia. Perhaps it was a bit of culture shock (that's what I blamed). On Sunday, Zander, his friend Greg, and I went to Corral Canyon Park in Malibu to hike to a little waterfall. It's nice how parks can get you easily away from the crazy city life, but as we rounded a turn on the trail, we could hear traffic from the Pacific Coast Highway.

Los Angeles is a huge city like Yosemite is a huge park, it takes hours to drive across. Since we were by the beach (although it was chilly and getting dark), I insisted in jumping into the Pacific Ocean so we wouldn't have to make the trek again. I ran into the surf, ignoring stares from pant and sweater-clad onlookers, and jumped in the waves. It was cold, but worth it. I hadn't been to the beach for too long.

On Monday we explored the Fashion District where fabric shops line the city blocks with lace, satin, flannel, and fleece. We then wondered around Little Tokyo, into quirky shops, and then had some sushi.

Los Angeles Fashion District

It was hard leaving on Tuesday, since I will be on my own until I visit Anita in Houston on Monday. It was also hard because I was getting tired of worrying about my belongings stuffed in my car, tired of unpacking and packing what I need every day, tired of driving and exploring something new every day. It was difficult to drive away from another friend.

Tuesday I just drove through Joshua Tree National Park, I didn't find the desert as exciting as a giant canyon (now all parks are measured against the Grand Canyon, which is hard to come up against). The Joshua Trees looked like little furry people and I kept driving across the border into Arizona.

Now I am in Tucson, where it was 105+ degrees F today. I walked around historic old town and wandered into artisan shops. Then I wandered around Fourth Avenue, an area of shops and cafes and restaurants near the university. Most of the businesses in this area seem to be locally run by participants in the younger counterculture (their windows are plastered with signs concerning equality and against the 1070 bill). I ate a salad at Shot in the Dark Cafe, which reminded me of Kiva Han in Pittsburgh, and a man tapped me on the shoulder to warn me of the cockroach sitting behind me. I jumped, shooed it away, and then took another bite of my salad (a bit concerned).

I like the tile dome roof on the old Courthouse in Tucson, AZ.

I sit here on a couch in the living room of Tucson's hostel continuing to be weary of my itinerary. I'm seeing a lot of sights, trying to take them all in and wishing someone were here to share them with. I know there is that quote about if you don't like being alone then you are in bad company (roughly), but I have reached the hump in my trip of lonely miles. It is tempting to just drive straight to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but that would be seen as a failure. I am doing this now because I might not have another chance. I am doing this now because I am at a thoughtful crossroads and hope to figure out what is meant for me in this life. We'll see what happens.

Fresh start

Monday began my fresh start. With the car loaded with my worldly goods, my plants sitting in the passenger seat, I chopped off my hair and headed to Bryce Canyon.

I asked a ranger at the visitor center what hike he recommended. He pointed to a trail on the map, Peak-a-boo Loop, accessed by Navajo Trail, to create a "strenuous" 5 mile hike. I laced up my hiking boots and started down the crowded trail of endless switchbacks. There were a lot of French tourists, and I eaves-dropped as best I could. At the bottom of the switchbacks the tourists thinned and I only passed 3 on the Peak-a-boo Loop. It felt good to stretch my legs and breath fresh air, knowing I would be living out of my car for over 2 weeks.

Bryce Canyon National Park on the way up on the Navajo Trail.

Bryce Canyon is MUCH smaller than the Grand Canyon. I walked to the rim and though, "That's it?" I felt like I could scramble to the bottom and across in 5 minutes. But it is impressive, although not in depth or in distance to the other rim, and very different from the canyon I'm used to. Spires and Fins, called "Hoodoos," rise from piles of eroded sandstone, looking like people turned to stone by Cayote (a Paiute Indian belief- and I agree it could be possible).

I drove scenic Routes 12 and 24 to reach Moab and Arches National Park on Tuesday. I passed through Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (covering about 1.9 million acres of public lands), the last place in the US to be mapped due to its endless canyons, plateaus, and cliffs. I also drove through Capitol Reef National Park (which I never knew existed) that protects the area around the Waterpocket Fold fault line.

Delicate Arch from the Upper Viewpoint (See the people at the base for size.)

I drove toward ominous storm clouds and winced when I reached them, right by Moab. I kept to the more touristy short hikes since I didn't want to get caught on slick rock in a downpour. I saw the Spectacles, Double Arch, Delicate Arch, and Balancing Rock. I expected to see more arches and for there to be less vegetation (these were fueled by Edward Abbeys descriptions in Desert Solitaire). I wandered around the wet streets of Moab that evening, peaking into windows of outdoorsy stores and tourist traps.

Yesterday I reached Salt Lake City to visit my friend Meredith. The city was built up around the temple, the roads named in numbers (designation their distance and direction from the temple), in a neat grid. The city sprawls between mountains and is built low, without huge skyscrapers. We went to a Mormon-run thrift store and hiked a quick mile in the surrounding mountains. We reached the Mormon temple an hour before its visitors centers closed. Not being Mormon, we were unable to enter the temple but were allowed on the grounds. The visitors centers were filled with Mormon beliefs and propaganda. Missionaries wandered the grounds trying to start discussions with visitors (very persistent).

Salt Lake City's Mormon Temple at night.

This morning after picking ripe plums from the trees around the house and having a tasty brunch, I hit the road again. I drove passed the Great Salt Lake, through the Bonneville Salt Flats site of the world land-speed record runs, and over the state line and into Nevada. I filled up the tank and stretched my legs and continued driving. I am on my way to Yosemite, arriving tomorrow. (I can't quite safely drive that many miles on the interstate in one day.)

On the road again

Today is my last day at Grand Canyon National Park, North Rim. It will be spent packing and packing and cleaning and loading up the car. I hope to watch the sunset and enjoy a bite to eat on the veranda one last time.

Although I didn't finish everything on my North Rim bucket list, I am satisfied with what I have seen here. I don't think it is really possibly for a person to fully explore and understand the canyon, I haven't gotten close. But I have hiked the Rim-2-Rim, and witnessed its undying beauty in each different life zone. I saw the seasons change, from snowy spring to hot summer to shorter days as it creeps into fall- the canyon rim erupted in green and wildflowers as spring marched into summer. I would like to witness the aspen leaves change into their fall colors, but I need to move on.

I haven't been completely satisfied with life here for months. Although the location is great, the situation is strange and really not for me. I want to have my own space, I want to cook my own food and not wince down mediocre cafeteria food for every meal. I miss museums and sitting at cafes, drinking tea and talking with friends or reading a book. "I want.... I miss...." I want to be happy in the moment and to take time to appreciate the delicacies of life on earth. But I have become so frustrated with the situation here that I catch only few glimpses of true mindfulness.

You would think this would be a perfect spot to clear your head and soak in the surrounding beauty. It really is, but then I walk from the canyon edge, back toward the employee living area and feel trapped. So onward I go, hoping to move toward self awareness and mindfulness through the exploration of the America West, places I have never before been.

I leave tomorrow morning and will go to Bryce Canyon National Park, Arches National Park, Salt Lake City, Yosemite National Park, Los Angeles, Joshua Tree, Tucson, White Sands National Monument, Carlsbad Caverns, Austin, Houston and then back to Mississippi to help my parents move to North Carolina. And then what? I have no idea. Right now, all I have is time.

Sunset over the Grand Canyon (July 30). Fog slowly filled the canyon until the sunset was no longer visible, but dissipated again to welcome nightfall.

Snake Gulch

Yesterday I ventured out to the Kanab Creek Wilderness Area in the Kaibab Forest to hike Snake Gulch. I had heard about this hike from my boss and from an NPS Ranger and headed out with some driving directions and a brief description of the hike. I knew if I hiked out about 6 miles I would be graced by ancient images painted on the rock walls.

Snake Gulch is a sinuous tributary to the Grand Canyon, although all that is left is a wash. Although water must have run through the area more consistently for the canyon to be created and to support native communities for thousands of years. Most of the pictographs recorded are from the Basketmaker culture who are said to have lived in the area from about 2,000 B.C. to 500 A.D. before the Anasazis and then Ancestral Puebloans arrived.

Snake Gulch in the Kanab Creak Wilderness Area of the Kaibab National Forest.

I left for the hike a bit later than I would have like and tossed some snacks and water in my bag and hit the trail. Although it was cool on the North Rim, this was at a lower elevation with no shade and the sun was hot and dry. The trail followed the wash between the canyon walls and it was overgrown with thorny bushes, sometimes reaching shoulder height. For parts of the trail, I was able to step around the bushes but for others, the bushes covered to ground from wall to wall and I cringed as the thorns poked through my pants, scratching my legs (and I remembered that what I walked through as I headed out, I would go through again coming back).

After about 2 hours of fast hiking though the bushes and heat, I sill had yet to see a pictograph. Had I taken the wrong trail? But this was the only one. I took a few more steps and looked up to the right wall and my breath caught as I saw my first pictographs. They were little brick-red triangles with circle heads and stick arms and legs. I just stared, watching the ghosts of these people who had once populated this land create their portraits as they stood on the rock ledge.

Rock wall covered in pictographs.

I continued to find more and more, some walls utterly covered with little figures and symbols. Some I found almost laughable, looking like little monsters. What did these mean? Were they in fact representations of a devil figure? I can only imagine what these primitive symbols and pictures meant to the Basketmakers and Puebloans. I walked further, not sure how many miles I had hiked.

Pictographs that I thought looked like little monsters or aliens.

Finally I turned around, not seeing any more pictographs in the vicinity and worrying about making it back to the car before sunset. I was hot and tired and hungry when I saw my little steel and rubber box oasis with cushioned seats, air conditioning and extra water. How funny it is to me that I feel relief when I see my car. I love the outdoors and I love being in nature, but the modern comforts of today are ingrained in my being. If I had been a Basketmaker, painting figures on the rock walls, and could see what would come in the future, I think that I would have been scared.

Rim-to-Rim

The last few weeks have been a bit difficult, so I was very happy to have my parents visit to ease my mind. Although they had already began their drive from Mississippi, I asked them if they would be up for a Rim-to-Rim (from the North Rim to the South Rim) hike through the canyon and they said yes. They are training for a marathon, are used to the intense Gulf Coast heat, and they've backpacked before (many years ago), so I thought we could do it. We borrowed packs and sleeping pads from some of my coworkers since they had only packed for day hikes.

We left Sunday afternoon on the North Kaibab Trail to hike 7 miles and descend 4170 feet into the canyon. We hiked the trail through the Kaibab Formation, the Toroweap Formation, the Coconino Sandstone, Hermit Shale, Supai Formation, Redwall Limestone, Muav Limestone, Bright Angel Shale, Tapeats Sandstone, and into the Grand Canyon Supergroup. Passing from one rock layer to the next, the color changed from greyish-white to yellow to cream to rusty-red to red to brownish to grey to dark brown. On the North Rim the rocks are about 250 million years old and we hiked through the Paleozoic into the Late Pre-Cambrian through the Great Unconformity to about 1 billion years ago.

My parents hiking along the wall of the canyon on the North Kaibab Trail on the first day.

The constant downhill was hard on the knees and ankles and I could feel my calves becoming sore. When we stopped for a snack or to take pictures my legs would shake a little but we walked on. The sun set and we walked into Cottonwood Campground just after dark and set up our tent amongst the scorpians.

We woke up early on Monday so that we could reach the Bright Angel Campground at the bottom of the canyon before the sun heated up the trail. We hiked about another 7 miles and descended just 1534 feet through the Supergroup and into the Metamorphic Basement Rocks including Zoroaster Granite and Vishnu Schist from the Early Pre-Cambrian, about 2 billion years ago.

The hike was easier, not as steep or hard on the legs, and absolutely beautiful. I had never hiked this far in the canyon. The area of the Zoroaster Granite and Vishnu Schist is known as "The Box." Hiking along Bright Angel Creek, the walls shoot straight up. Originally limestone and sandstone, lava flows turned sedimentary rocks into schist, which holds heat from the sun, acting as a radiator throughout the night. K-feldspar and mica and quarts swirl around creating stunning patterns on the sides of the canyon (it's a geologists dream to see such beauty in rocks).

"The Box"- We hiked along Bright Angel Creek through the Metamorphic Basement Rocks.

We got to the camp just as the sun began to grow hot. At this time of year, weather reports show the bottom of the canyon to get up to 110 degrees F. However, in the sun, the thermostat maxed out at 145 degrees F, leaving the true temperature up to the imagination. We past most of the late morning and afternoon soaking in the cool creek water next to camp, stepping out when we felt shriveled only to run back in 2 minutes later. It was even too hot to be in the shade and the cool water evaporated off our skin fast in the dry heat.

It was even too hot to sleep. I watched as the moon crept across the sky, lying on my sleeping pad running a wet bandanna over my body to keep cool. Finally I caught some zzz's only to wake up a few hours later at 3 am to start our 9 and a half mile hike out to the South Rim. If we were to start hiking any later, the sun would reach into the canyon when we were only halfway out and we would have miles of hot desert sun. All of the NPS rangers and signs tell you not to hike the inner canyon between 10 am to 4 pm because of the dangers of heat exhaustion.

We crossed the Colorado River in the dark, on the Silver Bridge, which is also used to support the water pipe that travels across the canyon from Roaring Springs to quench the thirst of about 5 millions visitors a year on both Rims. Along the river, with walls of metamorphic rock, we hiked across sand dunes, feeling the heat radiate from the rock walls, happy that it didn't come with the sun as well that early in the morning.

We plodded up three sets of switchbacks, each ascending about 1000 or more feet in a short distance, throughout the length of the trail. Halfway we reached the Indian Garden Campground, an oasis along the trail. We started encountering more people, some doing day-hikes and not looking well prepared at all for the heat that they would be caught in. At the 3 mile point from the trailhead you could smell soap and perfume on the families carrying just a liter of water and wearing sneakers or sandals. It was already hot and the sun had hit the trail, but trees and large rocks produced patches of shade when needed. I worried about the naive hikers but went on, my large pack strapped to my back and trekking poles helping steady my steps.

The first set of switchbacks on Bright Angel Trail. The sun is rising and reflects off the canyon walls.

Finally we reached the top and I looked over the canyon amazed at how much it really holds. About 10 miles across and over a mile deep, the view from the rim does not do it justice. It shows a thing of beauty, but does not depict how harsh life can be in the canyon- yet deer and bighorn sheep and butterflies and lizards and snakes all live there. There are cottonwood trees and prickly pears and wildflowers as well. And the Anasazi people also had made it their home, adapting to the natural cycles of the land.

We felt relieved and happy and a great sense of accomplishment. The majesty, grandeur, and hardship of the canyon should never be underestimated.

(To see more photos from the hike, go to Flickr)

Lake Powell

Last week a family stopped by to rent our Surrey--2 young girls, their mom and grandmother. However, when filling out the release, the younger of the 2 girls mentioned how her sister did not want to ride it because it wasn't cool enough. I told her that it was probably that her sister couldn't handle how cool the Surrey was, she agreed.

The next day when I was leaving the EDR, I saw them walking around the employee area. I said hello and wished the little girl a happy birthday, which she thanked me for. They were looking for the Transept Trail, but someone had pointed them in the wrong direction. I told them not to worry, I'll show them a shortcut through the woods to the trail. The mom was worried because I was going out of my way, "This is not the way you were going!" No worries, I said. The little girl smiled and thanked me for wishing her a happy birthday.

When I saw Chuck the next day, he mentioned that someone had left a note and a candy bar at the gas station for me, "Apparently you helped them find their way to the trail." When I stopped by to pick it up, it made me smile. It was a Milky Way bar, except they had written, "Right," on a piece of paper and taped it over "Milky." On the back the girls thanked me for showing them the right way, "You helped us a lot!" Better than any tip I've ever received, it's nice guests like that who make working in the service industry worthwhile.

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My last days off I went to Lake Powell. Lake Powell used to be Glen Canyon, the Colorado River running through it on its way to the Grand Canyon. Now, due to a decade-long dam project starting in 1956, it is the second largest man-made reservoir in the U.S. A lake that used to be a river that carved through the canyon--it has changed the course of the Colorado River for as long as the dam holds its water back.

Although I don't know how I feel about the creation of the dam, I enjoyed its effects--refreshing water to jump into on a 90+ degree day. The canyon walls drop away beneath your feet, but it is one time when stepping from a cliff is okay. Instead of falling hundreds of feet, you float in water. The top layer of rock is the rough Navajo Sandstone formation, it used to be soft sand millions of years ago, but now it is abrasive rock--not fun to rub up against (I have a scrape on my toe that really hurts...). I never dreamed that I would swim off of the rim of the canyon, but with human influence, anything is possible (good or bad?).

Lake Powell at Antelope Point.

cape royal and beyond

Last Sunday I finally made the 23 mile scenic drive out to Cape Royal, North Rim tourist destination extraodinaire. I wanted to do it all--I had been here for over 2 months but had yet to make the trip that I would suggest to our guests.

I headed out with Eric and Nate, watching the pink, purple, yellow, red, and blue wildflowers pass by as we drove on the winding road. Our first stop was at the Cape Final trailhead--a short trail, just 2 miles out, which I had heard a lot of great things about. The thermometer on my car crept up to 98 degrees and we slathered ourselves with sunscreen before heading out. The trail goes through the forest, and there are a few side-trails where you can stop to look out over the canyon and into the Painted Desert. Closer to the rim it become rockier and the prickly pear are more numerous and there are less trees to find comfort from the heat of the sun. Finally the trail rises up and there is a sign with an arrow denoting that this rocky ledge over there is Cape Final. Standing on the rocks, there are U.S.G.S. markers from the early 1900s, and the view of the Canyon is breathtaking.

Eric and Nate hiking the last bit up to Cape Final.

From there we drove the last couple miles to Cape Royal, where the trails are paved and only about a quarter-mile long. But the views here are also beautiful--no where else in the world is the Colorado River framed by a hole in a rock, named "Angel's Window." We walked on top of the thin ledge of rock making up the top of the famous window. Although I was happy there were railings keeping me from teetering over the edge, it reminded me of just how many people come out to this point every year.

View of the Grand Canyon from Cape Royal.

This is not "off the beaten path" in any way. It used to be, when Major John Wesley Powell made his infamous river trip through the canyon in 1869. It is difficult to both preserve a place and to make it available to the general public. Happily, the North Rim is still too far secluded to become as developed and visited as the South Rim. I can still pretend that I am alone on these trails, not all, but some.
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I have made some changes here. I am no longer a host in the dining room. Instead, I am the first female in years (at least 3) to work at the service station. For a slight-very slight- pay raise, I now pump gas, wash windshields, fill the air in tires, and rent out bicycles. Oh, and I also have plenty of down time after finishing my sidework to enjoy my book.
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On one of my last nights hosting, we had a rainstorm over the canyon and the rim. The rain misted down as the sun began to set. As the rain lifted and clouds began to part around the sun on the horizon, a rainbow formed just beyond the rim. I ran outside, it was a slow night, and gazed as the rainbow grew brighter. It arched over the rim and was lost behind the trees and I went back to work. There was chaos in the dining room, everyone was out of their seats and rushing to the windows or up the stairs to go outside and take pictures. I called tabled to seat, but no one came, no one wanted to leave the impressive sight. I ran out again, this time farther to the beginning of the short trail to Bright Angel Point. What I saw brought tears to my eyes, I had never seen such a beautiful sight--a complete arch, a double rainbow, both ends reaching into the canyon. Guests recognized me and I replied, "I really should get back to work." "But this is why you are here," one woman said. "I will vouch for you. Enjoy it." And I did.

View of the rainbow from the East Veranda (I borrowed a co-workers camera to get this).

When I went back to the host stand, dining room was still a mess, and people still weren't coming when called. The rainbow faded and I finished out the night with spirits lifted, my heart light. This is why I am here.

the 4th and so on

It's easy to fall into a pattern here--work at 2pm, off at 10pm, sleep until 10am where all you have time to do is toss in a load of laundry, eat, and get ready to head back into work. I have fallen into this pattern the last couple weeks and it has been keeping me from enjoying to outdoors and, well, blogging. I have clearly been slacking.

For the Fourth of July, a group of 8 of us from the North Rim drove about 7 hours to Telluride, CO, a winter ski destination, where we met up with a group from Flagstaff. We left on the 3rd, after the community cookout, and arrived at a campground a national forest at about 4am (very vague details, I know).

We headed into town in time to see the end of the parade and to see 3 F16's flyby, the second looking like it was going to hit the canyon wall before spiraling up. We spent the afternoon in the town park, enjoying local brews and playing volleyball. That evening, there was a fireworks display, shot off from the park and watched by thousands from the park. Telluride is in a box canyon, so the fireworks can't really be shot off from a safe distance. Instead, we lay on blankets and stared straight up to watch them explode. After an exceptionally large one, ash would fall on us and we shielded our eyes.

After exploring town a bit the next day, we started to drive back to the North Rim. On the way, we stopped at Mesa Verde National Park and acted as true tourists, visiting each pulloff from the main road. We saw ruins of communities built by the Ancestral Puebloans from A.D. 600 to A.D. 1300. The buildings are amazing--from the rim, the canyon walls drop down and towns are built of stone in alcoves above another drop to the canyon floor. How did the Ancestral Puebloans build these structures and then live there?

Ancestral Pueblo ruins at Mesa Verde National Park

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This past month, the wildflowers have bloomed here on the rim. I don't know what they are called, but we have fields full of fragrant, blue-purple (periwinkle) flowers dotted with tall stems holding white 3-pedaled flowers.

Spending a morning with the wildflowers.

And the last few days have been hot and humid. The sky opened up and it rained a bit Thursday night, but not enough to clear up the clouds and damp air. In the next couple of weeks we will be hitting monsoon season. Yes, we have monsoons here at the Grand Canyon. I am looking forward to a different type of fireworks--lightening displays over the canyon.

(P.S. Mike in HR says hello.)

Water in the Canyon

This past Friday, Eric and I headed into the canyon mid-morning. We lucked out with some clouds and a few rain sprinkles here and there as we descended 4000 feet and 7 miles on the North Kaibab trail. Without the clouds, it would have easily reached 110 degrees with very little shade to break the heat. Instead, I thanked the clouds for shielding us from the harsh rays.

On the North Kaibab Trail between Cottonwood and Ribbon Falls.

We hiked fast to Cottonwood Campground, the only place to stay the night between the North Rim and Phantom Ranch at the Colorado River. Camp was set up just in time for a heavy rainstorm. When we saw blue skies headed our way we set out another 2 miles to Ribbon Falls. It was an oasis like that of Rivendale in the Lord of the Rings (ahem, nerdy reference)—the waterfall cascading over rocks covered in green moss, the stream gently carving rock, creating life for canyon plants.

Eric standing at the base of Ribbon Falls.

After minor exploring of the side canyon and waterfall, we hiked back to the campsite before dark, meeting three guys from Brooklyn who were taking their yearly summer trip to the National Parks.

We awoke early the next morning as the sun made its way into the canyon and packed up camp to hike to Roaring Springs, about 2 miles up the North Kaibab toward the North Rim. After bushwhacking and stream crossing we found a shaded spot near water on which to spend the heat of the day. The water was ice cold, and my feet turned numb in seconds. It was impossible to submerge for more than 2 seconds, the air was pushed from my lungs and my brain froze. But, on a sunny day in the canyon, the water was a nice break, although very temporary. And the shade made all the difference. We had a relaxing afternoon of playing cards, Sudoku, and napping. Once the sun dipped behind the canyon walls to the West, we began our hike out.

View of Roaring Springs from the North Kaibab Trail.

We hiked the last 5 miles, 5200 feet in elevation, with the steepest switchbacks on the trail, in record time. It helped that the sun was setting, the moon was rising, and the temperature quickly dropped without clouds to insulate the desert air. As night descended, we noticed neon yellow specs on the edge of the trail. Turning on my headlamp, we discovered they were bioluminescent worms—in the canyon this far away from water? In the desert? The mystery of their origins and their place in this hot, dry ecosystem remains.

My legs are sore, but my passion for the outdoors is satisfied for the time being. The canyon walls are impressively massive, recording millions of years of history in their sediment. Every step I took was a year in time, the prehistoric to the present. I probably won't make it into the canyon again for awhile since the heat of summer is here.

Angel's Landing

My last two days off I headed to Zion National Park with Eric, Heather, and Heather's friend Scott who was visiting from Texas. We left Friday morning and picked up supplies in Kanab, UT, a small hippie-Mormon town between here and Zion.

We spent our first night on some property just outside Zion owned by a very generous couple who works here. We set up our tents and hammock and relaxed from our tedious work-week. The other side of the fence denoting the property line lay Zion, and we tried to explore a little but could not find the non-maintained trail that was rumored to be there. Instead we started a fire and cooked up some Jiffy Pop, pork, corn, and couscous. Car camping allowed us to be luxurious with our meals, and we enjoyed the taste of real food- a nice change from the EDR.

We awoke early Saturday morning and headed into Zion after some tasty breakfast burritos.

Eric and Heather at the camp Friday night.

On the drive into Zion we stopped before driving through the Tunnel to take a quick 1-mile round trip jaunt to see Canyon Overlook. At around 4000 feet in elevation (but varying greatly due to the canyons and rock formations) it continued to grow hot throughout the day and the sun was unforgiving.

By the time we reached the trailhead to Angel's Landing, the temperature had peaked at about 98 degrees F. Although only 2.5 miles out to the overlook at Angel's Landing (5 miles round trip), there is a 1500 foot rise in elevation. We started in the early afternoon, the hottest part of the day and slowly made our way up the steep trail and switchbacks. There were some trees for shade and cool rock walls where we could find some relief from the heat. After a couple of miles, it become so steep and shear that chains were installed to help hikers pull themselves up to the overlook. It was a bit nerve-wracking, being afraid of heights and bad in the unforgiving heat, but the view down to the Virgin River and across the canyon was worth it.

View of Zion from Angel's Landing. 2.5 mi and 1500 feet up.

Although difficult on the knees and ankles, the way down was much easier-the sun was lower in the sky, casting larger shadows to escape to, and gravity was on our side. Once we reached the bottom, we cooled off in the frigid waters of the Virgin River.

After setting up at our site in the campground, we headed out to Springdale, the little hippie-resort town outside the West entrance of Zion, for a well deserved dinner. Mexican food never tasted so good.

strange words

I come across a wide variety of guests on my job. Some are incredibly rude and make me feel insignificant while others put a smile on my face. Here are some kind words, if not a bit strange, that have stuck with me:

As I was seating and handing out menus to a family- mom, dad, and son- the dad looks up and said, "You have the most gorgeous smile. It just beams." I looked from him to his wife and son and back to him and smiled nervously, "Thank you. Enjoy your meal."

After a man had finished his dinner, he walked passed me and told me, "You have the coolest haircut. Really." I smiled and glanced at his incredibly muscular arms about to rip through his t-shirt, "Thanks. Have a good night."

My favorite compliment came from a man who first said to me, "Hello, Gorgeous." as I sent him and his friend to a table for dinner. On his way out he stopped by the host stand, looked at me, and said, "Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are like the valley in the morning?" I glanced at him a bit embarrassed and replied, "No. Thank you."

I may not be the best at taking compliments, but when there is a problem with bookings or a couple who is mad about not getting placed at a window table, I know what to say.

I can't say that I really enjoy my job. I go to work and watch as the hands on the clock at the front desk creep from minute to minute and hour to hour. I look out the window as the shadows change across the canyon. I daydream about hiking or holding a job where I am fighting to conserve and protect the planet. I'm not ready for a career, but I am ready for a job in my field of study. I am too passionate about the state of the environment to just seat people by the window. I want to volunteer with the cleanup effort in the Gulf of Mexico and along the coast.

Photo taken by Chris Graythen of the Gulf Oil Spill

But here I am, at the Grand Canyon. I live for my days off where I can hike and explore and I live for the possibilities of what may come next.

work work work

I regret that I have not taken the time to write an entry before now, but with wireless internet down in the EDR, it takes an extra effort to go online.

The last couple weeks I have been working hard (or is it hardly working?) so that on my few days off I wasn’t quite as adventurous as I would have liked to be.

The entrance to the Dining Room from the lobby (note the host stand and the stairs).

As a host, there are three different shifts that we can be scheduled to work: BL, D1, D2. As a BL, I arrive at the dining room at 6:30 am to start seating for breakfast. I get a break from 10:00 to 11:00 to eat lunch back at the EDR and then start again and seat for lunch and do my side work (wiping down menus, wiping the railings and host stand, sweeping the stairs, switching the menus to the next meal, etc) until 2:30 pm.

As a D1, I come into work at 2:00 pm to allow the BL shift to start her side work. D1 is the “Maître d’” shift because for 2 hours D1 takes calls and answers questions for guests while the dining room is prepared for dinner. I have a dinner break from 4:00 to 4:45, barely able to make it back to the EDR to toss food back. Then from 4:45 to the last seating around 9:30, D1 gives guests pagers, answers the phone, and directs the other host where to seat the guests if needed.

As a D2, I show up to work at 4:00 pm to allow D1 to take her dinner break. When D1 is back, I stand at the bottom of the stairs and show quests to their seats. At the end of the seating, D2 does the closing side work and prepares the menus for breakfast.

Last week I worked a D2 and then turned around to work five BL shifts in a row. Having worked closing shifts at Coffee Tree Roasters, I was not used to waking up early and heading into work immediately. By my fourth BL shift, I was a bit loopy and all of the servers and bussers got a kick out of it. However, by the fifth, I was completely exhausted.

I slept most of the day after my last BL shift and headed out car camping on Monday, my only day off this week. Most anyone from the Dining Room staff who had the day off drove out to a point in the Kaibab National Forest and set up hammocks and tents. We had a campfire and kicked back with some beers and burgers and snacks. It felt great to sleep in a tent, and I got more sleep that night than I had with all of my crazy shifts the previous week.

The view from our campsite in the Kaibab National Forest.

This week I have four D1 shifts and then a BL before having two (very needed) days off.

opening

Things have changed, but that was expected. The Employee Dining Room (EDR) is relatively empty now and it is harder to get a group to hang out because our schedules are different. So, whoever is around becomes your friend.

Saturday and Sunday were my days off so I gathered some people together to go hiking. On Saturday few of us hiked about 2 miles down the Kaibab Trial. This trail is named for the limestone formation that is the top rock layer of the Grand Canyon which formed about 250 million years ago. We hiked to the Supai Tunnel, which is a man made tunnel in rock in order for the trail to continue its 14 miles to the bottom of the canyon at Phantom Ranch.

View from the Coconino Overlook on the Kaibab Trail.

The way down was easy, but we almost immediately started shedding our jackets as it warmed up below the rim. We passed a group of people restoring the trail for the season and many hikers finishing the 22 mile Rim to Rim hike. Saturday was opening day for the North Rim and the people came flocking in.

The Tunnel's shade was welcoming and the rock was cool. We didn't stop for long because Eric and Heather had to be at work by 2:00 pm and it is said to give yourself twice to three times the amount of time that it took to hike down to hike out. It was difficult going up the steep switchbacks and ascending the 1400 foot elevation change. Still not totally acclimated, we stopped every 10 minutes to catch our breath and replenish our fluids and electrolytes. When we emerged, we felt victorious, and it hadn't taken as long as we had expected.

Sunday I rounded up some people to try out another trail. We drove out to Point Imperial (the highest point in Grand Canyon National Park at 8803 feet above sea level) where you can see the Painted Desert in the distance. We hiked about 5 miles round trip on the Ken Patrick Trail, branching off to where it stopped at a point of rock. We had to bushwhack through brambles and scramble down and then back up a steep slope of icy snow.

We stopped to take in the view under a dead tree on the Ken Patrick Tree.
(From left to right: Justin, Miranda, Lisa, Caitlin)

Neither hike was incredibly grueling, and I look forward to more miles which I will start to add every time I go out.

My legs weren't sore until I started working--walking up and down a short flight of stairs every time a table is ready to seat. I worked dinner shifts Monday and Tuesday, and again Today. So far our guests have been agreeable and understand the difficulty of guaranteeing a window table. Monday I was a bit more reserved, nervous about my first real shift, but yesterday I was open and chatty. Neither nights were very busy, so I had the extra time to say hello and hold a small conversation with the friendlier groups. When leaving after eating his meal Monday night a man stopped me and said, "Every time you walked by us and made eye contact, you smiled. It made everything so nice. Thank you."

Arrival

I arrived on the North Rim last Saturday to a blur of commotion and I feel as though it hasn’t stopped. There are about 230 people working at the lodge, all new faces to me, who are holding jobs such as maintenance, housekeeping, gift shop cashier, inventory, front desk, line cook, server, busser, and host (to name just a few). My roommate, Caitlin, is a busser while I will be a host at the Dining Room. We are anticipating the arrival of our third roommate, but we hope it won’t happen.

I stopped at Marble Canyon at Lee's Ferry--the beginning of the
Grand Canyon on my drive to the North Rim.

The Dining Room is relatively small for the number of guests it seats, creating a maze of sharp turns to maneuver. There are six large windows, three of which look across to the South Rim and guests will be begging me for a table next to them. But I will have to say, “I’m sorry but we do not guaranty that you will sit next to the window, but you can see the canyon from every table and we invite you to walk up to take a closer look.” (Something like that.) Or I could say, “If you really want to see the canyon, go for a hike.”

This past week we have gone through health and safety training and have been cleaning and organizing the lodge to get ready for opening day. After six months, a lot of dust had settled and everything seemed to be in hibernation. But tomorrow is opening day, and I think we are ready.

On Monday, the phone lines at the lodge opened for dinner reservations and they have been ringing off the hook. “Thank you for calling the Grand Canyon Lodge North Rim. This is Lindsay speaking. I can I help you?” When we aren’t around to answer the calls, the messages become numerous but there is only one phone from which to check them and the same to make long distant calls. But I don’t mind the tedium, because people are excited to come and really grateful when we return their calls. However, I have already denied people window tables.

Everyone who works here seems to be very nice and generally happy to be here. Already, a group has formed of old and new employees that I am a part of. But it radiates out to include everyone who works here. Most have come for the outdoors and hiking possibilities. I am looking forward to exploring the trails more once I have totally acclimated to the elevation here (about 8300 feet). A few of us hiked to Bright Angel Overlook one evening that winds were gusting up to 51 miles per hour. The view was beautiful, but we were freezing as the sunset and the wind whipped around. Tomorrow is my first day off and a few of us might try to hike a couple miles into the canyon, but not too far, since we still wheeze after walking the mile back from the lodge to the employee housing area.

Last night after dinner a volleyball game got started because the sand court was finally raked and the net installed. We played game after game, rotating teams and players after every win of 21 points. Although my volleys aren’t consistent and my sets are nonexistent, I have a pretty solid underhand serve (so I didn’t feel like I was completely useless… the points off my serves made up for missed volleys). But no one is a pro, so most games were really close. At 10 pm the lights turn off in the court and there are quiet hours from 10 pm to 7 am.

Sitting at "Employee Rock" to watch the sunset on arrival day.

Today at 3 pm Dining Room employees will don their black pants and bowties to be ready for “Shakedown”. Tonight is a run-through with all of the servers and bussers and hosts to see how things are run and how they should go. Employees that do not work in the Kitchen and Dining Room and staff of the NPS were able to make reservations for a free meal tonight. Those of us working will eat in shifts and I am excited to try something on the menu.

I’m nervous but mostly excited for the lodge to open and to start working. Things will change because we won’t all be working and eating at the same times as we have this past week. It’s kind of been like camp for adults, in some weird way where we all work at camp. Tomorrow it might start feeling like a place of work where we happen to live and are surrounded by the great outdoors. I still don’t know exactly what to expect, but so far it’s been good.

Westward

Although I wasn't actually saying goodbye to my dad, my cat or my bird (since I will see them all again), I still had to take a deep breath as my mom and I pulled away from the house last Friday. I am traveling to a place I have never been and will be living and working with people I have never met. Home was comforting and the unknown is not.

Herd of Pronghorn spotted from the car in NM.

This past week I have been roadtripping with my mom, seeing new sights. We drove through Louisiana and our first night we stayed in Wichita Falls, TX where we deliriously fell into our rock hard beds and tossed and turned until we plopped back into the car for another long day on the road. In those two days we drove about 1500 miles--the majority of the ground we needed to cover--and then came the real exploring.

In Albuquerque, NM, we viewed paintings by artists who call New Mexico home, inspired by the desert landscape and the native populations. We wandered around the historic Old Town learning about early settlers who claimed land that wasn't theirs to take. We wandered around Nob Hill where the college kids hang out (and I can no longer call myself a "college kid") and watched an Israeli film at an old artsy theater. We inspected petroglyphs carved into vesilcular basalt by the indigenous population before the conquistadors arrived.

Rock carvings at Petroglyph National Monument

On our way to Flagstaff we spent an afternoon at the Petrified Forest National Park. We stared across the Painted Desert, able to see the San Fransisco Peaks about 120 miles away. But the Petrified wood was amazing, made from trees from the Late Triassic period when the western U.S. was in the tropics. Instead of decaying and forming rich soil and coal and oil, these trees fell in the right conditions so that their wood was replaced with silica--perminialized. Anyway, I love trees and these rocks that once were trees are beautiful.

At Crystal Forest in Petrified Forest National Park

In Flagstaff, AZ we ate delicious breakfasts at a local cafes right next to each other and wandered into the countless outdoor stores on the streets of Old Town. We went to Lowell Observatory, the place where Pluto (and I think Mars) was discovered and looked through a special telescope at the sun. We learned about arid and desert plants at the Arboretum. I could picture myself living in this little mountain town if only it didn't snow about 100 inches a year.

Today we drove to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and it is beautiful. Even using that word, "beautiful", seems to undermine the emotion of that place- one of the 7 natural wonder of the world (and rightly so). I won't get tired of looking over the beautiful vista from the North Rim--I don't think that is possible.

My arrival date is May 8, tomorrow, by 3:00 pm. It takes 5 hours to drive to the North Rim because although in a straight line from point A to point B it may only be about 10 miles, it takes over 220 miles by car to get around the canyon. I'm looking forward to it all, even if I am a bit nervous.

I had a great time with my mom this past week and wish all moms a happy mother's day!

southern comfort

I've continued to enjoy my time in the South, trying to experience things that are unique to the region. Last Friday, NASA had their annual crawfish boil where over 1,000 pounds of the little bottom-dwelling crustaceans were cooked and served. My dad helped cook them and later as we sat eating our food, I cringed as their carcasses piled up. Although I am not against the practice of eating meat (I myself am not a vegetarian), their sightless eyes sent shivers down my back. But I sat and watched, nonetheless, as their tails were expertly broken off and the meat sucked out. The smell of seasoned seafood and feelings of joviality filled the damp air.


The storm that had hit Friday afternoon broke just enough Saturday morning for us to drive out to Ocean Springs and take a kayak trip in the Upper Davis Bayou. It's hard to describe, I'll do my best to make some sense of it:


The tide was coming in and the water was rising--the dock that was visible on our way out, was submerged when we came back. It was windy--looking up into the gray sky, the clouds were moving very fast. It did drizzle a bit and the sound it made when it hit the brackish water was just like a rain stick. The tall marsh grass hid the clapper rail but we could hear its call as we glided by. We saw the wake of alligators as they slid into the water and out of view just as we turned the bend--but the marsh grass remained bent where it had rested and we knew we just missed it. Red-winged blackbirds and barn swallows zig-zagged through the air overhead calling out to each other. It was hard paddling into the wind--if we rested the wind would push us backwards or blow us toward the grass--but easy and refreshing when the wind was on our side. It smelled of rain and pine and a bit like salt--but not too salty--because the water became fresher as it moved inland from the coast.
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Now it's Tuesday and I leave Friday morning with my mom to begin our roadtrip to the Grand Canyon, where I will stay while she flies back to Mississippi. I thought the days and weeks were going by slowly but now they seem to be speeding by. I have to pack! I have to clean! I have to organize! But I just want to lay on the beach and swim in salty water.

No--it's time to move on.

waves

Yesterday we took the Ship Island Ferry across the Mississippi Sound to West Ship Island, part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore. We crossed the island, set up our chairs and umbrellas facing the Gulf of Mexico, and spotted dolphins swimming parallel to the shore. Although the water was cool at first, I got used to it and dove into the waves.


Sand, sun, saltwater. Sea gulls and dolphins and crabs. Dunes covered in grass and skeleton trees--perches for barn swallows and red-winged black birds. Cool breezes off warm water, blue skies streaked with wispy white clouds... I love the beach.

dancing in the streets

Last Sunday was Day 3 (the last day) of the 2010 French Quarter Festival. It claims to be the largest free music festival in the Southeast, and I found it to be well worth it--how couldn't it be? There were about 15 bandstands: 3 along the river, one big stop at Jackson Square, a couple by the Old U.S. Mint building near the French Market, and a few along Bourbon St. and Royal St. in the heart of the French Quarter.

Crowds in Jackson Square--listening to music and browsing stands for food

Although the New Orleans Jazz Fest might have more highly acclaimed musicians on average, I found the FQF to be more enjoyable. The Jazz Fest is held in a race track arena and the sun beats down on the dry soil and the only break from the heat is in tents that are set up with fans and mist. But the FQF was in the streets of New Orleans, closely connecting the music with the culture that started it all. Walking from one bandstand to another, we passed galleries and cafes and people sat on their balconies enjoying the scenes and sounds.

My favorite stop was on Royal St. where we heard the last few songs of the Washboard Chaz Blues Trio. They recreated an old-timey blues sound with the harmonica, washboard, and guitar (made of some type of metal giving it a twangy sound).

Tapping toes and dancing to Washboard Chaz Blues Trio