An-di-fan East

Kvetch and Awe

8-9-06
What's travel writing without kvetching? I've amassed a few complaints here, though they have as much to do with my own incompetence as anything else.

Let's start with a lesson in humility. Yesterday when we were heading out on our drive up through the tunnel, we got stuck in the irrigation ditch that crosses our campsite. We didn't need to get stuck; I just happen to have really bad aim when I'm in reverse, and went not down the middle, but on the side. A ranger had to come and engineer me out of that particular pickle. I told him I'd try backing in when I returned from the trip, to make sure this wouldn't happen again--and you already know the next part of the story. Yep, as in my cleverness I was backing into our campsite, my aim was, again, execrable, and this time it was a rear wheel that got stuck in the muck. After an hour of struggling in 100+ degree high noon sunshine to repeat the ranger's miracle, that same ranger arrived and announced I was going to have to get a tow truck. Lo and behold, neither my cell plan nor my auto insurance (both of which changed in the last year) had the roadside assistance coverage I thought they did, so "Ow!" went my wallet. I think my face is still red, as well.

Grumblings: car alarms that honk, and people who have forgotten how to get into their cars without disarming, then re-arming, the danged honking alarm. They're all over the campground, and they go off (two honks here, three there) well into the night.

Here's another: Americans who are ignoring the magnificence within their borders. I've heard a dozen different languages as we've toured this wonderland, and precious few American accents. I read recently that Americans are staying home to luxuriate in the digital experience, rather than getting out and perspiring in nature's spectacles. Sure, it's hot here, but even a THX media center in an air-conditioned house can't hold a flickering melted candle to what I glimpse as I ride the shuttle bus up and down the canyon--not to mention what it's like to be out there, working my way up a trail, my senses overloading at every turn.

But in a similar vein--I am one of those Americans, and there just are not enough electrical outlets here. Just a year ago, I wouldn't have thought of griping about this--and really, I'm supposed to be getting away from the modern world to experience nature in the raw--but I've gotten attached to my digital camera and my laptop, two devices not nearly portable enough in a place without plugs. So it's more a complaint about myself than it is about this park. Five years ago, I spent three days in Bryce Canyon with nary a rechargable complaint. I did take six rolls of slides, one of which I can display now without purchasing a film scanner--but my, how I've changed.

That's enough of the curmudgeon; back to the naturalist. We woke to gentle rain this morning, which cleared up by noon. Undaunted by the precipitation, I talked Sean into a hike up to see the Lower Emerald Pool. A sidebar here: the shuttle bus system is a huge success, helped in large part by the free rein given to the drivers. Some restrict their announcements to a description of stops, but most have a bit of tourguide in them, and regale us with stories of the natural and human history of this place. I've learned as much from the busdrivers as I have from brochures and signs.

Back to our hike: Sean, to my chagrin, is afraid of heights. This severely restricts where we can go in Zion. Most hikes involve at least some dropoffs. Today, however, after nervously going up a relatively mild grade, Sean found himself entranced by the scenery and the wildlife, so that we were able on our way down from the pool to take a different route, and get the incredible view of the canyon with which I'll close this entry.

posted by Mark Anderson @ 5:30 PM