Reflections of our minds as the Colorado negotiates another bend.
Hitting the spot.
Looking through our window, we view magnificent sights which
include Glen Canyon dam, the vast, colorful desert with a backdrop of
mountains, the latter, many miles distant. Although we cannot see the
waterflow, the Colorado River is close by, too. Below us is a golf course and a
neighborhood consisting of wonderful Adobe style houses. We suppose it could be
worse. About a mile to the west is a body of bright, blue water that we thought
might act as a source for the residents. We wondered. While on a hike today, we
came across a sign that read: ‘USBR’. We wondered, too. Because we are very
smart, we thought the US probably stands for United States. Sometimes, we even
surprise ourselves. We are not keen to use ‘Google’ on every occasion we have a
question and with Encyclopedia Brittanica a little cumbersome to ‘schlepp’
around, we thought we’ll work it out eventually. After all, between the two of
us we have all that brain power (continues at end).
Tour guide points to the water below: 'Aha! The Colorado River.'
And that is the damn wall of Glen Canyon Dam.
The kid enjoys some rocky moments and loves it.
A first spring in late autumn, since surgery. While appearing to showoff, it truly was a memorable moment. What is sometimes amusing, other times frustrating, is that I struggle to tie my shoelace. On a bad day, I have to beg my nurse for assistance.
Why should kids have all the fun? What about the oldies?
Early mornings are chilly but soon after hitting the trails, the jackets are put back in our bags.
We spend our days in Page going up-and-down.
Sometimes we stand still and try to absorb it with Glen Canyon Dam behind.
Seeking a place for brunch. Trying to find the right atmosphere for 'cereal and yoghurt'.
Jenni perched high up to capture the scene.
'The River Jordan is deep and wide'...oops.
We arrived at the trailhead, which is not really that, but
rather, a viewpoint overlooking the fabulous Colorado River. In the unlikely
event you have read our texts of the river over the years, viewed in 6 states,
you would understand our bias. It makes us most content, stimulated and tests
our stamina, too. Our aim for the day was to walk alongside it, a hundred or
more feet above, and follow its course toward Horseshoe Bend of Page. We
intended to walk for at least 2 hours at which time we’d reverse course,
walking upstream so to speak (Following surgery nearly 2 months ago, I should
be cautious although that’s not proving to be the case.) We love that type of
activity because the surface is rough, covered in rocks and boulders and allows
us to climb and negotiate the many obstacles and deal with precipitous edges.
In fact, it’s what we call playtime which includes use of much energy and
skills. Fortunately, we seem to have the energy—skills, well, you can’t have
everything. While the viewpoint was busy, not one person hiked beyond it but
us. Effectively, it’s a two-minute hike down from the parking lot and then off to
the next place for most visitors. It suits us fine. In 5 or 6 hikes thus far,
we have only been on one trail (cross-country) and even that single track was
ambiguous. We also have been alone on each hike. Clearly, we’re not likely to
win a popularity contest.
As we mentioned earlier, the river and its surround are
magnificent. They tell us that over millions of years, the water cut the
channel/canyon through the rocks, allowing it to flow. This is beyond our ken,
but we love it. We think the pictures will provide an adequate explanation of
what we saw which in Page, is an everyday occurrence. We have mentioned
frequently, each day we know we are going to witness a miracle or two. We made
our way along the river for 2 hours, seeking a path over the boulders and
rocks, through channels and crevices, basically, anyway we could, to allow us
to remain alongside the water. At times we had to move away but soon
thereafter, found our way back to the edge. At all times, we were far above the
water. Between the challenging climbing, path seeking, reflections off the
water and witnessing the overpowering formations, not forgetting the coloring,
we spent the period in awe.
Close to the end of the outward portion, we came across a
tunnel which allowed a road to pass through to a government building. It was a
surprise. The area was fenced off securely for vehicle entry although outside
of the entrance, no fences existed. There were a couple of ‘keep out’ signs. We
also noticed the USBR sign at the tunnel. We wondered what the facility was all
about. Fortunately, there was no indication that our route was on private
property. We considered the issue because on occasion, we have been a little
naughty. Some ten years ago, we climbed a naval fence on Hawaii which in
retrospect, was not that responsible. Anyway, we continued moving for a further
ten minutes, arriving at our brunch spot, close to an edge, looking down upon
the water. Once again: Outstanding. Our simple food always seems to taste better
when eaten in the environments in which we hike. We suppose it helps that we
are also hungry by 11-12 each day.
We commenced our return, heading toward the car park,
although it’s impossible to trace footsteps when wandering in such
environments. Every trip will be different because of a lack of paths or
trails. We noticed a truck leaving the compound after a guard had checked the
driver’s papers. Then we heard someone shout, “Hey”. We looked around, heard
nothing further and continued climbing although we suspected something might
occur. Yet, the guard had returned to his booth. By then, we were in position
to view the booth and the whole property. A few seconds later we heard the same
voice mouthing off but this time in a rather rude and commanding manner. For a
moment, I recalled my time in the South African army as a 17-year old.
Non-commissioned officers did not talk to me, usually barked instead, in a
rather unfriendly manner. It took a while for me to learn to accept such
rudeness. On the first such occurrence, I wanted to call Mom at home and tell
her how nasty these fellas were to me, even request her to send Dad to collect
me.
Looks like the government is serious in its endeavor to stamp out hikers.
“Get down here,” he shouted from afar. Then I noticed he was
armed with a sub-machine gun, revolver and probably other items of hardware.
All I had to defend myself was a Sony camera and Jenni. I headed down as
ordered while Jen remained on the hill or should that read ‘over the hill’? I
would like to write that I felt like Clint Eastwood walking across a desert
strip to a sergeant in the United States Armed Forces. However, when the theme
from the movie, ‘The good, the bad and the ugly’ failed to materialize, I realized
we were on our own. In fact, it’s been quite a year for Jen and me. During
early May, we came across rogue hunters in the wilds in South Africa
accompanied by vicious dogs. Fortunately, we were successful in dealing with
the gang. I decided to use similar tactics with the soldier.
“Hello, Officer, have we done something wrong?” My approach.
I thought I’d adopt a friendly manner before taking the stance of a black belt,
10th dan karate expert. Besides, facing the barrel of a machine gun
after a strenuous hike was a little sobering. That I never drink alcohol made
the point even more strongly.
“You are trespassing on federal land,” he informed me.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but how would we know that? We have
not seen signs to that effect or any fences.”
“Where have you come from?” he questioned.
I thought it probably inappropriate to mention South Africa.
“From the overview,” I answered.
“Not possible. Where did you park your car?”
“At the overview carpark.”
“Are you sure? That’s a heck of a distance.”
We knew that as we had walked from the position and more
importantly, had to return. Nevertheless, he did not seem to believe me. I
stared at the gun he was now holding away from his body but still not pointing
it in my direction.
One thing led to another, and I then began to converse with
him; he seemed to relax. We spoke of the beauty of Page, his former
hometown, Flagstaff, hiking in the regions, and before long, we were
getting on well. Two other guards stood close by and seemed amused, especially
when I mentioned they should be careful about giving Jenni a rough time. She’s
far tougher than me. In the meantime, the sergeant dialed someone on a different
looking phone and mentioned the status regarding the trespassers…ourselves.
'All clear, just two dodos out for a stroll'. I asked him whether we could have a photograph together knowing it would probably be forbidden. However, one of us took a chance on the sly. No names.
When all seemed to be sorted out, and I had determined we
were at the US Bureau of Reclamation (aha! First puzzle solved), I said that we
needed to return to the car.
“I’ll walk you out,” he informed me.
“Can’t we return the way we came?” I asked.
“That’s trespassing and I’ll have to arrest you.”
I also repeated that there isn’t a sign indicating it’s
federal land. He then informed me of the signage in about twelve languages (see
photo) making it pretty clear that no entry was allowed to the public. However,
what the US government does not realize, in its infinite wisdom, is that the
signage is at the front entrance and nowhere else. In other words, it assumes
that would be terrorists or strange hikers would only make an approach via the
front entrance rather than other less obvious places. I thought I might let him
know that this kind of thinking might persuade me to no longer pay taxes. Jen
said it was a good idea that I left out tax issues. It also made me think about
the importance of signage. Along the Mexican border, rather than build a wall,
employ all those guards, and spend billions of dollars trying to deal with the
border debacle, I suggest placing a number of ‘No Entry’ signs which should
surely do the trick. I did mention earlier something about our wisdom.
Positioned at the front entrance. What! No Zulu?
He then ordered me to get 'my wife' down to join me immediately
and he would show us the way out. We departed on friendly terms which was nice
because after all, I’m not anywhere as tough as I sound. We bid the three
heavily armed guards farewell despite them ruining our return journey and
headed toward Highway 89 North. Along the way, we passed the body of water we
mentioned earlier—the small dam viewed from our room. Aha! We had learned the
answers to the two puzzling thoughts we had. The second issue was the
‘Wastewater Treatment Plant’. Who needs Google when a person can traipse around
seeing the real thing.
All-in-all, it was a wonderful day which included a great
hike, spectacular views, good challenges, some PR with the US government and
the solution to a couple of puzzles.
Who ever said hiking is boring?
(While the commentary may be a little 'flowery', the essence of the events is entirely factual excluding the helicopter.)
How dem walls?
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
No comments:
Post a Comment