Grand Canyon Continued--Where are the Indians on horseback?
The married couple set the alarm clock for 4:30 a.m. so they could photograph the Grand Canyon at sunrise at Lippan Point. The temperature was 16 degrees--without the wind chill--so they spent the next hour running between the beauty at the canyon edge and the warm car. When the sun reached the river, far below, it was time to get breakfast. They've just finished and are contemplating where to go next.
"Would you like to walk down into the canyon and get closer to the river?" She balances a map across her knees, scanning the trails because she's positive they will miss something important.
"Are you nuts? I'm not walking down there. " His foot pushes the gas pedal to the floor as they leave the parking lot.
She refolds the map, sticking it back into her bag. "What would you like to do then? We have a full day."
"Let's drive to the end, take pictures at a few scenic overlooks. Maybe we can leave here early."
Here we go again, She thinks, What is it that makes him want to speed up vacations and not slow them down? It's always a race to 'get done' rather than relax and enjoy. She sees the sign to turn for the Indian ruins. "Would you want to stop at the historic Indian settlement?"
"Nope." The word is dragged out over several seconds, implying a great depth of feeling.
She's been married long enough to know he wouldn't want to stop. He hates history and culture, which of course she adores. On previous vacations he'd walk her to a museum and sit outside talking with local people, even if they didn't speak English and he didn't speak Spanish or French. He'd just talk louder, assuming volume was an instrument of interpretation.
Sometimes he'd drop her off and go find an internet cafe to search...to search...for unknown things.
Now, far away from internet connection, he stops at two overlooks and with their individual cameras' they click away, probably taking the same shots. They drive onwards, heading west.
Her mind is still on that darn Indian ruin she really wants to see. "Shouldn't we stop at the historic Indian settlement back down the road?"
"Nope." He drives past the next pullout, hoping she won't notice but of course she does.
"Hey!" You past one!" She points her thumb back over her shoulder. "What's the deal, buckaroo?"
"We really don't need to see them all." His voice is dripping with authority.
"Don't!" she points a forefinger in his direction. "Don't start."
"Okay, okay." He pulls into the next scenic overlook and they both take pictures again.
When they get back in the car, she asks, " If we never come back here again, shouldn't we really see that Indian settlement? "
Now he's laughing. "The only way I'll stop there is if the Indians are on horseback with bows and flaming arrows on one side of the road and the army is on the other side blowing the settlement up with dynamite."
Too bad it was a peaceful, sunny day at the Grand Canyon.
"Would you like to walk down into the canyon and get closer to the river?" She balances a map across her knees, scanning the trails because she's positive they will miss something important.
"Are you nuts? I'm not walking down there. " His foot pushes the gas pedal to the floor as they leave the parking lot.
She refolds the map, sticking it back into her bag. "What would you like to do then? We have a full day."
"Let's drive to the end, take pictures at a few scenic overlooks. Maybe we can leave here early."
Here we go again, She thinks, What is it that makes him want to speed up vacations and not slow them down? It's always a race to 'get done' rather than relax and enjoy. She sees the sign to turn for the Indian ruins. "Would you want to stop at the historic Indian settlement?"
"Nope." The word is dragged out over several seconds, implying a great depth of feeling.
She's been married long enough to know he wouldn't want to stop. He hates history and culture, which of course she adores. On previous vacations he'd walk her to a museum and sit outside talking with local people, even if they didn't speak English and he didn't speak Spanish or French. He'd just talk louder, assuming volume was an instrument of interpretation.
Sometimes he'd drop her off and go find an internet cafe to search...to search...for unknown things.
Now, far away from internet connection, he stops at two overlooks and with their individual cameras' they click away, probably taking the same shots. They drive onwards, heading west.
Her mind is still on that darn Indian ruin she really wants to see. "Shouldn't we stop at the historic Indian settlement back down the road?"
"Nope." He drives past the next pullout, hoping she won't notice but of course she does.
"Hey!" You past one!" She points her thumb back over her shoulder. "What's the deal, buckaroo?"
"We really don't need to see them all." His voice is dripping with authority.
"Don't!" she points a forefinger in his direction. "Don't start."
"Okay, okay." He pulls into the next scenic overlook and they both take pictures again.
When they get back in the car, she asks, " If we never come back here again, shouldn't we really see that Indian settlement? "
Now he's laughing. "The only way I'll stop there is if the Indians are on horseback with bows and flaming arrows on one side of the road and the army is on the other side blowing the settlement up with dynamite."
Too bad it was a peaceful, sunny day at the Grand Canyon.
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