Hopi rock

Before I moved to the Grand Canyon, I made sure that I would be able to continue to listen to National Public Radio. I knew there was a station at the South Rim, so I would undoubtedly be able to hear it 12 miles away. Much to my surprise, it was almost a mirror image of the Red River Radio network in north Louisiana, airing every program I enjoyed at home, only at times more suited to the Mountain Standard Time Arizona observes year round. When Mark, my latest roommate, moved in he asked me late one night if there were any other stations we might try. A quick scan found something more to his liking, a Native American-operated station in Tuba City, AZ. Late at night, depending on who is doing the programming we can listen to everything from Led Zeppelin to early Beatles...but with one interesting quirk. Sometimes, as a segue from one song to the next, the disc jockey will drop in a minute or two of Navajos or Hopis singing or chanting in their native tongues. It is what we call "Hopi rock."

Actually, that was not my original opening, but we just heard another example of this odd choice of music, so I thought it would be fun to mention.

My parents have been here for three days this week, so I have been enjoying taking them on several drives around the rim, including the long drive out to Point Sublime on what can best be described as a primitive road. My friend, Willa Douglass, who works behind the front desk, accompanied us as we bounced from rut to rut and rock to rock for the 18-mile drive to this historic overlook and then back through the national forest to Hwy 67 north of the park entrance. For all the muscle ache and back pain, I think everyone agreed that it was worth the trip, if only to say they had been to a spot Ansel Adams found to be perfect for his landscape photography here at the canyon. It was also a nice contrast to the easy drives we did Tuesday to Cape Royal and Point Imperial.

After four or five meals in the lodge dining room, tonight I suggested we drive to Kanab and enjoy the haute cuisine of The Rocking V, this terrific restaurant and art gallery my manager suggested I try several months ago. The buffalo was perfectly prepared and, of course, being chocoholics, my mother and I finished the meal with two chocolate lava cakes ala mode. My father simply finished the meal with an American Express, no ice cream on the side! Tomorrow it will be back to the EDR for me and back to Santa Fe for them.

I've not had much time for hiking, but on Saturday did complete a trail I had started several times before and been unable to finish because of late starts. It turned out to be a bit more grueling than I imagined, but what a view at the end. There are some spots at the Grand Canyon that just beg you to take off your pack, find a flat spot high above the canyon floor and simply lie back and enjoy an afternoon nap. This was one of them...I may never go back to the Nankoweap Overlook, but it was a hike I am glad I accomplished. Google it to see the view from the trailhead.

And, finally, a quick shot of how Mr. Adams made his way to some of these same places on the North Rim...

On parenting, parting and piccolos

Saturday night was a magnificent experience. The symphony performed at the North Rim!

Traditionally, the Symphony of the Canyons makes an appearance at the lodge each season, usually playing on the veranda with the spectacular panorama of the canyon itself as the backdrop for their evening program. This year, weather forced them to abandon that and move the entire performance into the auditorium off the lobby, a space nevertheless quite well suited for music. The huge picture windows along the south wall also allowed the view to remain a part of the experience, which included a variety of popular tunes and patriotic medleys. The highlight, undoubtedly, for most of us was the famous 3rd movement from Ferde Grofe's Grand Canyon Suite, more popularly known as "On The Trail." It might not have been played note-for-note perfect, but hearing it surrounded by the massive stone walls and wood-beamed ceiling of this ancient structure, with thunder and lightning in the distance for added effect, was certainly the way the composer envisioned it. And, frankly, they actually did a terrific performance. Afterwards, it was off to the saloon for Irish coffees with dear friends and then back to the dorm for the last few minutes of the Cowboys broadcast.

Wednesday night I went camping with Allan and several friends in the Kaibab National Forest. He insisted on one last campfire and a bit of camaraderie before he returned to California, so I couldn't say no. Wrapped in a blanket in the front seat of my Jeep proved to be more comfortable than I imagined and alot warmer than the tent Allan and Brody shared. The best part, of course, was that when the alarm went off, I simply started the engine, said "goodbye" and returned to the dorm. I walked into the office at 7 a.m. as if nothing unusual had occurred. The rest of the morning flew by and by noon, "little brother" and I were enjoying one more meal in the lodge dining room and spending the next few hours taking photos on the Bright Angel Point trail along the rim. The Boeshaars were a delight to meet and we spent awhile in the saloon before unloading Allan's belongings from my vehicle into theirs. I will certainly visit them in Simi Valley before the end of the year. Their invitation was definitely appreciated.

Personally, I have never been anything close to a parent. Maybe being "Big Bro," "Dad," or "the Old Man" has given me a perspective many single people do not get to experience but that only scratches the surface of what it means to raise a child. I do know, however, that when you have grown attached to someone and had the kind of experiences I shared with this particular "youngster" in such a short time, saying goodbye can be very difficult. And for all the mental forewarning you can give yourself, when the moment at hand comes nothing can stop a few tears and a choked-up "goodbye, little brother..."

The good news is that I have a new roommate and I've known him for 26 years! A great friend from Utah was planning to visit over the weekend and before I knew it he was offered a job on the front desk.

Before I go, let me end with four very "Happy Birthdays" to Mark Glowacz, Drew Girton, Colette Lyman and Jim Drew. In a ten-day span, four people who have brought me years of friendship celebrate one more year of their own adventure on this planet...I wish I could be with all four of you! Thank you for sharing at least some of your years with me.

And to Allan, thanks for making the Grand Canyon such a spectacular memory. I only wish you could have been here Sunday when I came face-to-face with my first rattlesnake!

Perfect music...

Somewhere out there, deep in the national forest, a 19-year-old is sitting by a campfire, maybe reading his Bible or listening to music, with the moonlight streaming through the aspen trees quaking ever so lightly in the evening breeze. Plans for his life ahead, images of his family and friends, the decision he's made to go home, all fill his thoughts as only the solitude of the wilderness can foster. And the big, black Jeep -- it sits there as a simple reminder of someone who genuinely feels his absence.

Allan, my roommate of little more than six weeks, has chosen to leave.

The decision had been coming for a week or so and, honestly, I am not surprised. Actually, I encouraged him to do it because I remembered how I felt earlier this year when I reached the point that going to work each morning in Shreveport made me miserable. Here, I look forward to it, but his situation was not the same. He was not meant to be a dishwasher and even though new opportunities were beginning to present themselves, it was simply too late. By Saturday morning, I could tell he had made his mind up.

It rained that morning, but by the time he got home from his shift the weather was perfect for one last adventure. He wanted to drive and I simply wanted to enjoy the last ride. I had picked three remote points, down miles of 4WD backroads, through narrow canyons, way beyond what any tourist or hiker would attempt. As the Jeep rumbled along, the conversation and music blended seamlessly with the sounds of nature surrounding us. Several times, we simply stopped for a minute or two to take in the scenery along the way, but the real memories were to be made along the canyon's rim. At Crazy Jug and Monument points, the rock outcroppings lent themselves to a bit of scrambling out to the edge to enjoy the view, but the best was the third point I had chosen. At Indian Hollow, we hiked a small valley that climbed up to the canyon's edge where we discovered the perfect flat rock perched high above the floor below. It was just the right size for two great friends to lie back and watch the clouds above and without saying so, understand we were only a few days from saying "farewell."

On the drive back, we decided to blow off the original plan and head across the desert toward southern Utah for one last meal in Kanab. You cannot script some things in life and this was one of those times. Jackson Browne will never know how incredible "Running on Empty" sounds with the windows down and the highway straightaway toward a sunset made just for such a scene. Yes, I thought about alot of friends and alot of my life's experiences, but I also felt as young as that kid behind the wheel with the huge smile on his face. And, truthfully, nothing seemed to matter but that.

Today, Allan gave his notice, but his parents will not be here for a few days. He has always wanted to camp out on his own, so I agreed to let him have the means to do so. What I did not expect was to come home to a half-empty room, but apparently they told him he could not leave his belongings here after he quit; his note on my bed explained as much. Of course, this is not the first time for me to experience this. It's just the first time that it struck me like this.

My alarms will be going off in a few hours, so it's time to end this. How I am going to fall asleep without the snoring across the room is yet to be seen.

"Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too

Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I’m running behind"

Sunday in the Park