At the end of the tunnel

There is only one positive on a day like this. The Jeep is getting a free car wash.

It was only days ago that I was on a trail in the western reaches of the Kanab River Wilderness that borders one of my favorite sections of the North Rim. It had been cloudy most of the morning, but the sun had finally broken through and after a nice snack-filled lunch under a huge reddish-tinted rock formation, I was actually enjoying an hour or so of rest. And unlike the beach, this suntan was free of all the things I don't enjoy about going to the shore, particularly the people and traffic. It was also a chance to do what I promised in my last posting and give serious thought to the offer that is now on the table -- to return next season as a manager or payroll supervisor. I have not had a chance to discuss the details of either, but since the "talk on the street" or maybe in this case, "the trail," is that I will be back, I am assuming they have read my mind before I have done so. And if last weekend's hike is any guide, the sheer enjoyment I got from it might offer a clue to my ultimate decision.

It is funny how a place like this can grow on you. I am only a few days from leaving for Santa Fe (and Austin) and what I think will be a rather fun way to spend the rest of the year, traveling across Canada on a CanRail pass after visiting my ex-roomie Allan in Simi Valley, California. Yet, with all the satisfaction that comes with completing a season and closing the lodge for the winter, some of us seem to have a tinge of melancholy in our voices when we discuss the inevitable goodbyes later this month. Conversations that once dwelled on what we would be doing on our next day off, now discuss what we plan to do next year that will make that season more fun than this one. There are the also the little gestures that color every day like exchanging phone numbers or ensuring that e-mail addresses or winter plans are clearly outlined so everyone will stay in touch. And, as mentioned a few minutes ago, the inevitable question of who will be coming back and, if so, doing what.

Today, however, October has held true to the prediction. It was as if a switch was flipped and the temperatures that warmed me on that rock last Saturday have plummeted bringing with them gloomy days and stormy weather. What had been planned as a full day on the Arizona Trail is being spent listening to "Car Talk" on NPR and writing this. The weather.com radar is suggesting this afternoon might be enjoyable, but still there is nothing more bleak than sitting on the edge of this or any other national park watching the rain come down with your pack and cameras ready to go.

Well, it's happened again, as the guys on the radio are suggesting. I've wasted another hour ruminating about my home here on the rim. It is now pouring down outside, so maybe this is the brunt of the weather for today. Meantime, lunch is being served in the EDR and I need to close out the pub's register so it will be ready to open for business tonight. Maybe that poncho I used in British Columbia will be handy this afternoon. It won't be a perfect day in paradise, but at least the Jeep will be clean!