"Far above the timberline..."

If you are familiar with the epic film "The Ten Commandments" then you will also remember the climactic scene where Charlton Heston hurls the tablets at the Golden Calf, unleashing an almighty conflagration that decimates the sinners and disbelievers who scream in anguish as they perish into the bowels of the earth. Well, that's sort of how we view the world from our little corner of paradise. Turmoil on Wall Street, the Gulf Coast awash from storm after storm. It is like a reckoning from God and we are simply casual observers. Nevertheless, I would suggest that if that Metrolink engineer was indeed text messaging some teenagers before he ran a red signal, God should deal with those infernal devices next, followed by digital cameras in short order.

Enough of that "real world" dreariness! I made a big discovery this weekend while driving back from Kanab Saturday afternoon. I listened to Michael Martin Murphy. Not only do his lyrics and music send me soaring one minute, then plummeting into waves of nostalgia the next, but when added to the drive back to the North Rim, it is apparent that few artists can create a modern-day soundtrack for this part of the west like he can. The vast meadows, the aspens and pines, the blue sky and clouds above are all transformed from a great scenic view to a cinematic masterpiece with his music becoming the score. And, if you are in the frame of mind that I am, you'd find yourself sighing deeply and saying things like "good Lord, I love this place" or maybe "I've got to come back here next year..." Of course, I am not going to let music decide something so important, but I must admit I did finish filling out my application for the 2009 season Sunday night. Meantime, I will make sure I always incude his version of "Adobe Walls" when I'm driving so I will stay focused on getting to Santa Fe posthaste!

Saturday afternoon in Kanab was also fun. The Jeep got washed twice, once by me at a do-it-yourself outfit with the high pressure wand and a second time at the Chevron convenience store's modern drive-thru system. It still needs work, but at least it looks clean. After I stuffed myself at Big Al's Drive-In with a double bison burger and waffle fries, I was ready to take my groceries and beverages home.

My plan was to contrast Saturday with a day of hiking on Sunday. Something that would really be a test at age 54. So, I drove all the way out to Indian Hollow Point where Allan and I had discovered that magnificent view and hiked the Thunder River Trail. It is a very narrow trail, perched high above what is called the Esplanade, that after a bit descends through a series of steep, rocky switchbacks to some 12-hundred feet below. Even in the low 80s, it was still hot enough to leave me drenched at what I determined would be my stopping point, but a nice shady spot in a ravine for lunch was perfect to refresh me for the hike back to "way up there" as it appeared from below. Eventually, I was at my Jeep, but I must admit the hike back was grueling! Next weekend, it will be back to the woods and those nice strolls through the forest that aren't so draining. One test every few weeks is all I can take!

On the way back, I also made sure to listen to something more upbeat, so I tuned in the oldies station from Southern Utah and as I barreled down one narrow forest road after another, everything within earshot was entertained by this old man behind the wheel singing songs from his teenage years...everthing from The Grass Roots "Sooner or Later" to Three Dog Night's "One." Not a bad way to end what was a perfect weekend at the Grand Canyon.

Well, time for an English muffin and some tea and a bit of celebrating. Have a great Tuesday and to quote Jimmy Johnson:

"How 'bout them Cowboys!"