Sometimes I wake up slowly and remember personal highpoints. One such time I remember being deep in the Grand Canyon, on a rough stone ledge in the inner gorge, hearing the presence of the River, its deep, relentless, bright, splashing sounds, bouncing back and forth between dark walls around my campsite.
My hand touched the sand next to me, I felt its coolness. Rolling onto my back, I looked up at the disappearing stars and the emerging upper canyon walls, trying to gauge my place at the bottom of the “layer cake”.
I’d wanted to be here for a long time, 70 years sine I’d looked down at the Colorado water, 20 years since my younger son worked for a river outfitter (and scored me a hat), and, since I backpacked from the south Rim to Hance Rapids. And now I can remember being a child of happenstance, down at the bottom.
I was down there working for an international tour organization, Road Scholar, through s local tour provider, Northern Arizona University. I’d done this work for 4 years, on my way to a decade. I’d go on to lead or help on 50 tours (including 15 times to the high point, Chaco Culture National Historic Park) and go to exciting Southwestern locations and many wonderful people. It would become the best job I could have.
All words and images are ©Vic Smith PhotoThe people will return to the rest of their lives. Chuck and I will relax. Here are some of the images I collected.
All Images & Stories Are ©VicSmithPhoto