NERDY CANYON STORIES

My kitties miss me. Or so says my wife. It's only been four days since I left on this road trip, and they haven't adjusted to their earlier bedtime, made necessary because Eva actually has to get up to go to work.

Unlike me, who had to get up not-so-early to meet friends for a morning stroll along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon -- Hermit's Rest to The Abyss, to be exact.

The Abyss is well-named. The trail along its edge is safe enough, yet in some places there is nothing but a few feet of bare dirt and gravel between you and a sheer drop of thousands of feet. It's like something from a Roadrunner cartoon. You could picture "SPLAT!" in a cartoon caption, when you peer down, over the edge.

It's a visceral experience getting too close like that, or even seeing someone else tempt fate. I watched one kid do a death-defying jumping jack in the air atop a pinnacle, so his friend could take his picture. It gets you in the pit of your stomach, and makes you want to look away.

On our hike, we caught glimpses of the Colorado River, a mile below. If you've been on the river, as the four of us have, you can picture the view from below -- the river churning through narrow, dark gorges of older-than-old, spooky-sounding Vishnu Schist. Images so different, yet equally sublime.

We caught the park's shuttle bus back to our car, producing my favorite moment of the day. The bus was SRO, and I stood right next to the driver, a younger Navaho woman who wore gorgeous dangling earrings, threaded with fine bead work, surrounding a small mirror. I had to compliment her. One thing led to another, and then I was asking her about her silver and turquoise rings. As she drove along, she showed me the different turquoise inlays in her rings, and in her bracelets -- some deep blue, some nearly apple-green. They were complemented by a matching bracelet with delicate inlays of opal.

In our short ride, and between stops with passengers pouring on and off, I learned from our bus driver about her rare Sleeping Beauty turquoise, how it compared to Kingman turquoise, and that her primary clan on her mother's side was Sweetwater. She described to me sunrises and sunsets from different vantages in the park, her words resonating with a deep love and connection with the Canyon. Yet, she confessed that until a few years ago, she'd never even been to the Canyon, though living just sixty miles away. I told her everything I knew about Navahos I had learned from Tony Hillerman, and she laughed a long time. I was sorry to get off her bus so soon.

I'm pretty sure my friends this morning wished a few times that I would just shut up. I've become obsessed with the geology and history of the Grand Canyon, which means I've got all these fresh, nerdy facts jammed in my head. They heard from me about ancient sponge spicules forming the chert nodules inside the 270-million-year-old Kaibab Limestone that caps the rim. They heard about the pompous fool who tried to build a railroad through the Grand Canyon in the 1890s, how his hubris got him drowned below Soap Creek Rapid, and why his character (and fate) so reminds me of Trump (see story here).

I was full of it -- such scintillating tales. I was trying them out because three months from now I'm going to be right down there on that very river, bouncing through those rapids close-up and personal, while working for my friend, Adam, as a swamper (crew) on his commercial eight-day raft trip. Boatmen know lots of stories; I want to hold my own. Despite the fact that no stories (nerdy or otherwise), no metaphors or art, and certainly no tourist snapshots can properly describe the Grand Canyon, everyone seems to keep trying.

Yesterday: A THOUSAND WORDS