Month: June 2017

It’s been HOT here in Moab, Utah…100 degrees or more most days. We’ve been holed up in the RV during the afternoons with the AC on full blast.

The poor dogs can’t go outside much after noon because their paws get burned on the street and rock pathways.

So, we all try to get our important things done in the morning. We get up early because of the dogs; JayJay usually makes a fuss out of waking up around 5 a.m., which wakes up Baby, and she becomes a pest to everyone…so that we have to get up before 6 a.m. to take her out to pee and poo.

Then, the other two dogs need some relief, so we have to walk them. So, like I say, we get up early. The benefit is that it’s relatively cool outside and in the rig, so Charlie can get some work done and I can do chores or hike, if I’m lucky.

This morning we all got up early again. I was going hiking at Arches National Park, and Charlie was going to use my absence to deep clean the rig.

I love Arches; the landforms are so dramatic, and the red stone looks so great against the blue sky.

Today, I decided to re-take last year’s 7.2 mile Dark Angel hike. It is the longest hike in Arches, goes over some rugged but interesting terrain, and provides some great sights and surprises.

Along the way to Double-O Arch, I ran into some fellow Californians who were headed in that direction.

That’s them at the end of this slickrock section of the trail. His name was Tom and hers was Emily. They are from Costa Mesa and are in their late 30’s, I think.

Anyway, they were going to Double-O and then return to the parking lot via the Loop Trail. So, we walked ahead a mile or so to the Double-O.

At that point, I told them that the neatest thing on this trail was just past the end (Dark Angel), off the path, about a quarter-mile ahead: a trove of petroglyphs. They were excited about it, so we all headed to the secret spot.

I had been there last year, but the place is very magical. It’s hidden in some trees, and tourists don’t go there: it’s too far to go, the terrain is too difficult, and there are no maps that divulge the location. So, we had the place to ourselves and gawked at the petroglyph panels.

Needless to say, Tom and Emily were blown away. Tom took pictures to show his 4th Grade students (he’s a teacher).

Emily is a hard-charging hiker, and wanted to return to the parking lot using a “primitive trail” option. We agreed to try it, and it was tough, partly because the weather was starting to heat up. And, we had to walk down maybe 500 feet before we climbed out of the rock chasm. It was much tougher and longer than the slog to Dark Angel.

Again, as in the Grand Canyon and Zion, we observed scores of visitors hiking out into the desert, late in the morning, with no water. What idiots!

Two days later, I did some more exploring, hiking up to Delicate Arch in the National Park, and then driving out to Dead Horse Point.

The Delicate Arch hike is about 3 miles round-trip, with an elevation gain of about 500 feet. I hit the trail at a little after 7:30 a.m. and there were a lot of hikers ahead of me; it’s probably the most popular hike in Arches N.P. I got to the top at about 8 a.m., along with maybe 30 other souls.

Most of the rock up there is “slickrock” sandstone, which looks smooth and slippery, but isn’t…it’s sandstone, as in medium grit sandpaper. So, if you have good hiking boots (mine are Merrell Moab’s, which are made for this stuff), you get a great grip and can practically walk straight up a cliff.

So, with good shoes and gritty rock surfaces, hikers walk out to shear cliffs to pose for photos. It’s a striking location.

I took the following photos from the arch itself, with a 500′ drop a few feet away. You’ve got to watch your step. This is the arch from the side.

This one is looking through the arch toward a distant part of the park. If you look closely, up at the top of the arch “window”, you will see another arch in the distance.

On the way out of the park, I passed Balanced Rock. It’s hard to believe that the top doesn’t just fall off in heavy winds…

After leaving the park, I drove out to Dead Horse Point State Park. It is approximately 30 minutes drive up and onto a mesa, then out to a spot where there is a great view of the Green River making a tight turn in 2,000′ red rock canyons. This river joins the Colorado River a few miles downstream.

Looking to the left off of Dead Horse Point, one can see some large potash evaporation ponds in the distance. The chemically saturated water comes from wells drilled deep into the ground, and then it is evaporated in the hot Utah sun. The photo doesn’t do it justice…the ponds are super bright turquoise in color.

Although the area looks pretty forbidding, some things thrive out in this environment, including this tree (cedar?), which appears to grow right out of solid sandstone rocks.

We’ve enjoyed our time here in Moab, even though it has been pretty hot (100 degrees most days). Our next stop, Park City, is located up on a mountain, so the temperatures should be more reasonable…perhaps in the 70’s. We’re looking forward to cooling off.

 

 

 

While we were camping at the Grand Canyon, we met a nice couple, The Briggles (Claudette and Bill). They are from Orlando, Florida, are on a lengthy road trip like us, and take a small business (real estate) on the road with them like we do. They have a very nice, fairly new Class A rig, and travel with a little dog. So, we had a lot in common with them.

It turned out that we would be hitting some of the same stops in the next few weeks, like Hurricane and Moab, so we pledged to get together at those places…and we have.

In Hurricane, we managed to go up to Springdale and have a nice dinner at Pizza and Noodle which Bill paid for. I reciprocated here in Moab with a nice lunch at the Red Cliffs Lodge, which is located along the Colorado River about 14 miles east of Moab.

Here they are, Claudette and Bill:

And, here we are:

While at the Red Cliffs Lodge, we visited the Motion Picture Museum which is located in the basement.

We’ve visited this museum previously, but it has been greatly improved since then. There is a very nice movie provided that tells the story of how all of the movie making that occurred here in Moab over the past 60 years affected the community.

Scores of movies were made here. There have been lots of Westerns (this was a favored location of Director John Ford’s movies with John Wayne) and other well-known ones, as well, like Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, Back to the Future II, Geronimo, Mission Impossible, Con Air, City Slickers, The Lone Ranger (with Johnny Depp), Star Trek, Austin Powers, etc. Many of the big-name Hollywood stars have shot movies on location near Moab.

The most famous movie made here has to be Thelma and Louise. The last scene in the movie has Thelma (Gena Davis) and Louise (Susan Sarandon) committing suicide by driving off a cliff (Dead Horse Point?) in their convertible Thunderbird.

The movie makers actually did the stunt twice (two different cars were sacrificed!). The crash dummy of Thelma is in the museum; check out Gena Davis’ look as the car goes over the cliff.

That’s one way to croak in Moab. The other is to go outside in the afternoon…it’s been over 100 degrees every day that we’ve been here. The dogs are lucky: they have a pool.

But, mostly, we all hang out in the air-conditioned RV and try to ride out the heat wave. It has been hot everywhere in the Southwest U.S.A. The day before we left Hurricane, I took Charlie to a Chinese restaurant. When we got into the car to drive the two blocks, the thermometer in the car read 121 outside! Yipes!! (But, we heard that it was 108 in Murrieta last week, so there’s no escaping it.)

I’m planning to hike Dark Angel trail tomorrow in Arches National Park. In order to avoid a roasting, I’m going to get up to the park by 7 a.m. and hit the trail by 7:30 or so. Hopefully, I can get the six-mile walk accomplished in 3 hours or less, and be back in the air-conditioned RV before noon.

 

 

 

 

My Mother is 89 years-old and will be entering a hospice program later this week. She’s in the final stage of Alzheimer’s Disease and is suffering from several physical impairments. She broke her hip three months ago, got that pinned, and we just found out that she broke the other one a few nights ago in the Board and Care facility where she is staying. When it rains, it pours, doesn’t it?

I don’t know if I will ever see my Mom again. Charlie and I are on a lengthy RV trip, out of state, and she could pass tonight or three months from now. I do know that, once a patient is recommended to hospice, the end is relatively near. Hospice will try to make her as comfortable as possible and give her all the loving care she deserves at this time. Hopefully, Mom will still be alive and lucid when we return in late August.

One of my last memories with my Mom was just before we left on our RV trip. I picked her up at the Board and Care, intending to take her out to lunch. She could shuffle along on her walker (after the hip surgery) good enough that I could get her into my old Hyundai Veloster. I was going to take her to a nice sit-down restaurant in Temecula, but the skies opened up, and it rained cats and dogs. We had a nice drive in the rain, and we talked, and she appreciated getting out of the house, most of all.  In the end, we opted to get drive-up service at The Hat, and each ordered one of their World Famous Pastrami sandwiches. The food was great, and the sandwich was huge. I ate all of mine, Mom ate half of hers, and then said, “Take this other half to Charlie, OK?”. It was a nice outing with Mom, and, really, could have been my last. I hope not.

Now that I know  that she’s moving to hospice, I am getting melancholy about the “good old days”. Of course, they were almost all good, relatively speaking. My Mom and I (and the whole family) had a great life together. So, there are lots of memories that come to mind:

(1) My earliest memory of my Mom was when she used to sew clothes for my brother Terry and I, and she did a pretty good job;

(2) I recall getting in big trouble when I was coming home from elementary school (first grade?) one day and decided to “borrow” a bike that I found laying about; my Mom found out and, very gently, gave me a lesson about right and wrong;

(3) My brother Terry and I wandered up into the hills behind the school and watched some older guys pummeling a poor skunk with their BB guns; when they were done, we picked up the dead animal, played around with it, and then returned home; my Mom met us down the street (she could smell us coming), made us take our clothes off, and she burned them in the incinerator, as I recall;

(4) My Mom was a stay-at-home mother when I was young. She kept a very neat and stylish house, while raising four young kids. I can remember the various salesmen coming to the home to hawk their wares (Fuller Brush, Tupperware, vacuum cleaners, sewing machines, encyclopedias, etc.). And, of course, she would buy bakery items from the Helm’s delivery truck that came by the neighborhood every day, just like the milk man and  the Good Humor ice cream truck.

(5) My Mom sold Avon cosmetics for awhile in the ’60’s; I think she liked it and was pretty good at it.

(6) She cut hair, too. There was money to be saved, and “Butch” haircuts were easy to do, so she buzzed off our bright red hair once a month or so. In later years (the 60’s), she’d even cut our neighbor friend’s hair for free.

(7) We were an active family; always had a speedboat. My parents were good water skiers, and my Mom looked great behind the boat. She and my Dad were scuba divers, too. She loved the little house that we had in Ensenada, Mexico where we’d go to ski, fish, and kick back.

(8) My parents would very occasionally take some time to themselves, like going up to Las Vegas for a couple of days. This was back when Vegas was classy, in the 50’s. When they’d go to Vegas, Terry and I would stay at my Mom’s (now “Nana’s”) childhood home on Rodeo Road near the L.A. Colosseum. It was a fun time for us, but my Mom only had bad memories about that place, when her parents were alcoholics and fought all the time. (And, those were the good memories!)

(9) I cannot remember ever hearing my Mom say a four-letter word. The same for my Dad, with the exception of the time he was in the garage and hit his thumb (instead of a nail) with a hammer.

(10) My Mom loved the opera pop star Mario Lanza, and she would play his albums on our home stereo player in the afternoon when she was doing housewife things, like in between hanging the wash on the clothesline in the back yard, changing diapers, or cleaning up some mess that we’d made.

(11) She made great sack lunches when we were in elementary school, always including a “surprise” item like a candy or a homemade eclair. Sometimes the sandwich wasn’t all that great, like soggy tunafish, but the surprise goodie would make up for it, and my friends would look on with envy out at the food court, when I made a big production out of eating my eclair, macaroon, or brownie. Yummy!

(12) My brother and I went through shoes so fast that my Mom took us to Sears and bought us some leather combat boots; something that we couldn’t ruin so quickly. We weren’t so happy about that, but she was a wise Mom.

(13) I developed a behavior problem at school when I was in third grade. My parents were baffled; my Mom said that “he never acts like that at home!” Anyway, they determined that I was bored. My Mom agreed to them moving me to an advanced class, and the behavior issues went away. Mother always knows best.

(14) We lived for a time up in the Santa Cruz area, when my Dad had a brief fling operating a gas filling station/garage. We kids loved it up there, but my Mom hated it. That was because the six of us had to live for a time in my grandparents’ garage. (I was about 12 years old then. I recall the time that I got a raging case of poison oak. It quickly spread over my whole body. I remember my Mom putting calamine lotion on the bubbly eruptions that she could see, then asking me, “Anywhere else?” And, I blurted out, “Yes, Mom, it’s down there, too!” Awwwww, she tenderly applied the lotion to my dick and balls; in for a dime, in for a dollar. Anyway, my body was so ravaged by the poison that I had to go to the doctor in Felton. He decided that I needed some kind of antihistamine injection, and…I was deathly afraid of shots. So, I ran out of the doctor’s office, and my Mom and the doc had to chase me down on Highway 9. Oh, how embarrassing!)

(15) Throughout my youth (through high school), I was involved in sports virtually the entire time. My Mom attended one Little League game (the City Championship, which we won), one varsity high school basketball game (against San Gabriel, in which I started), and zero swim meets, when Terry and I were in competitive swimming, nor any Pop Warner football games. She was too busy raising children and attending to my sisters’ drama, working (in the 60’s), and making my Dad happy. She certainly deserves a pass in this area; I’m sure she was proud of me, even though she couldn’t attend my games.

(16) My Mom and Dad expected their children to do well in school, and I did, even though I put forth a minimal effort. When I was accepted to UCLA during my senior year of high school, I got zero acknowledgement from either my Mom or my Dad, probably because they didn’t want to have the painful talk about their inability to help me out with college costs. So, I had to fend for myself, and chose to work my way through Cal State L.A. I know that my Mom was proud of me, because she told me all the the time.

(17) I got mononucleosis in college (working after school and partying hard at my fraternity, Delta Chi, where I was living). I called home and said, “Help, Mommy!”, and she came and rescued me, took me home, and nursed me back to health.

(18) After my third year of college, I felt that I was wasting my time, not really putting forth a good effort. I was not happy with myself. So, I came up with the idea of enlisting in the Air Force (the Vietnam War was going on!), and my Mom was OK with it. She even drove me to the induction center on my last day of freedom. As I climbed into her Mustang, my pants ripped on the seam between the zipper and my butt. Just a small tear. Mom said, “Go in and change pants.” I responded, “No problem. When I get there, I will be issued uniforms.” Actually, they didn’t issue uniforms for at least four days, so I had to march all over the AFB and do calisthenics in those pants, with the tear that grew larger each day. By the fourth day, the entire bottom of the pants was ripped open, with my underwear hanging out, blowing in the wind. Mom was right, as usual.

(19) Mom used to send me letters and goodie packages when I was in the military. It’s hard to explain how much those little things mean to you when you are away from your family for the first time.

(20) I learned how to snow ski when I was in the military, stationed in Merced, California. Somehow, I got my Mom and Dad to visit me, and I took them on their initial snow skiing endeavor at Dodge Ridge. They were somewhat hooked, and this led to many ski trips in the years to follow. On one trip, at Mammoth Mountain, I badgered Mom and Dad to ski in an area which was, in retrospect, beyond their abilities. I said, “Trust me. Just follow me on this trail.” My Mom fell on Scotty’s Run and slid down, backward and screaming, about 1,000 ft until she mercifully stopped. She never trusted me again on skis: she’d just say, “Scotty’s Run!”

(21) I met the love of my life, Charlie, just after getting out of the Air Force, when I was working at Queen of the Valley Hospital, where she was a nurse. Little did I know that she was supporting four sons. Anyway,  my Mom (and Dad) were a bit shocked that I was getting serious about a divorced lady with children, but that dissolved when they met Charlie, and they probably knew that she was THE ONE. From that moment forward, my Mom and Dad accepted those four boys as my own issue, and treated them just like all of their other grandchildren.

(22) For all the years of my youth, and young adulthood, and even after that, my Mom would go to great effort to make big Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations, cooking all the food and decorating, etc. She did a magnificent job, and those events grew even larger, as the family grew, with wives and grandchildren. It was only after my Dad died unexpectedly in 1998, that my Mom began to relinquish this duty. She’d earned a rest, to be sure.

(23) My Mom and Dad were introduced to world travel by Charlie and I many years ago, when we talked them into doing a 7-day Royal Caribbean cruise on the “Song of Norway”. After that, they were hooked, and traveled all over the place, many times with Charlie and I. The four of us were great travel companions, really enjoying each other’s company. My Mom budgeted for these trips, and Dad just figured, “If she thinks we can afford it, I guess we can.” I can remember the four of us sitting at an outdoor cafe, just across the street from the Casino at Monte Carlo, when my Dad ordered a Coke, and the charge was $10 or something like that. He got all worked up about it, but my Mom told us later, “If he only knew what this trip was costing us…!!!” (That reminds me of another story: the time we walked off the ship in St. Maarten, and there was a Rastafarian-type guy selling local music that sounded great. Mom and Dad started dancing, impromptu, making fools of themselves and enjoying it. Dad bought a CD from the guy: “Hey, what a deal…this would cost me double back in the States!” Anyway, when my Dad got home, he found out that the tape only had music on one side…five songs, not ten. My Mom got a good laugh out of that one.)

(24) The last cruise that we took with Mom and Dad was a 7-day Mediterranean, beginning in Barcelona. We spent a day or so there before boarding the ship, highlighted by my Dad falling down the stairway in a subway. Not to be outdone, at the first meal onboard, Mom bit into a hard roll and one of her front teeth broke off, giving her a goofy, “Billy Bob ” grin, which totally embarrassed her. To top that off, wouldn’t you know it, the four of us got an invitation to sit at the Captain’s Table for one dinner, and Mom ended up spending a lot of the time with a dinner napkin to her mouth, hiding the giant hole in her smile, and showing great poise, under the circumstances. On another night, same cruise, Mom had a reaction to some shellfish, passed out in her stateroom, and had to be rushed to the onboard hospital. All in all, though, it was a nice cruise, even though my Dad was “tired” a lot. Little did we know that he would  be dead in a matter of months. Bummer.

(25) My Mom worked up until my Dad retired. She was employed by Crown Zellerbach Paper Company for many years, starting out as a nobody, and ending up as integral part of their sales force. She developed a nice rapport with salesmen and buyers, and her bosses there really loved her. She was always on pins and needles about the job at CZ, because she had lied on her application, telling them she had two children instead of four! Yet, she would get everyone off to school, into L.A. to work, drive home and make dinner for Dad, and be a great mother for any and all problems that might occur. That woman could multi-task!

(26)  After retirement, Mom and Dad moved to Vista, California where they lived in an own-your-own-lot MH subdivision. It had a Community Center, which housed pool tables, a kitchen, and a large meeting room with dance floor. My parents were just getting into Dixieland dancing at the time, and they became fixtures at the Community Center. My Dad built improvements to the Center with the other old geezers, and my Mom became Social Chairman. For many years, she produced the once-a-month community party at the facility, providing a meal and entertainment for those who bought tickets. There were lots of theme parties; the two of them loved wearing costumes. Mom did a great job orchestrating the events, and my Dad tended bar at those occasions. They really found their calling at Vista Del Mar; it was a perfect retirement situation for them.

(27) My Mom was very proud of the fact that she was the financial brains of the Manning family. She monitored their income, budgeted expenses and special extravagances (like travel), and invested their idle money in C.D.’s and such. A couple of times, Charlie and I needed to borrow some short term money, and instead of going to a bank, we asked Mom if she’d want to help out. She did a couple of times, and we always paid her at least twice the going rate of interest, because they needed everything they could get. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and it made Mom believe that she was a very shrewd money manager.

(28) Every marriage has it’s ups and downs, and my marriage with Charlie has had a few. And, each time, my Mom was there to lend support, to listen, to advise…but, not push. She always did the right thing. And, I know that she was very supportive of my sisters’ and brother’s marriage dramas when they arose. She’s been solid as a rock, in that regard, always lending an ear, a shoulder to cry on, etc.  We couldn’t have asked for a better Mother, in the love department.

(29) My Mother had a lousy childhood. Her Dad was a womanizer and didn’t show her any love whatsoever, and her Mom (my Nana) was an alcoholic floozy, a total bust as a mother, and a horrible example to her little, only child. My Mom dragged herself out of that crumby life and became a Model Wife and Mother. And, during that time, when she had her own family to tend to, my Mom became a mother to her own mother, helping her (Nana) and her husband (Benny) shake alcoholism, clean up their lives, and make a new one up in Santa Cruz. Then, when Nana and Benny moved back to Southern California, my Mom was nursemaid to the two of them in their final years, watching over them, taking them to the doctors, showing them every kindness, etc., as they wound down their lives. She was with them, literally holding their hands, giving them comfort, to the very end. She deserves a Sainthood, just for that loving effort, in my opinion.

(30) Later in life, after my Dad passed, my Mom made a big mistake and married an 80 year-old guy (“Ray”) who romanced her. She didn’t want to get married, but he insisted (for tax purposes on his estate), and so they did. He didn’t drink, didn’t like movies, wasn’t into family events, etc…kind of a fuddy-duddy, to be honest…who like to repeat the same old phony war stories. (Check out this true story: Charlie and I took Mom and Ray to Ensenada, Mexico one day. While downtown, we bought Mom a Margarita. And, then, another. Ray wasn’t drinking, as usual. Anyway, after walking the main street, we took them to a very special restaurant built…I’m not kidding!…at the point of the small bay where my parents used to have their Mexican hideaway back in the early 60’s. Mom ordered another Margarita as we sat down in the restaurant. In short order, she excused herself to go to the restroom, and was gone for quite awhile. Eventually, Charlie went in there only to find Mom passed out on the floor. We had to carry my comatose Mom out to the car (through an in-progress wedding!), pour her into the front seat, and high-tail it to the border. We were lucky that she had come to by the time the U.S. agents checked her out. After that incident, she rarely drank.) Anyway, after Mom married Ray, his robust health almost immediately took a nose dive, and my Mom endured a tortured couple of married years, as her dying husband made a total mess of her home and ran her ragged. Yet, she stuck by him, “in sickness and health”, you know, to the very end. More Sainthood earned.

(31) Until recently,  my Mom and I had a tradition of watching the Oscars together every year. We both liked the movies and the history of them. (When my Mom was a teenager, she worked at one of the big theatres in downtown Los Angeles…where, allegedly, you would pay 10 cents to see the featured attraction plus you got a candy bar and a bag of popcorn.) We did the Oscars together for a long time, then Charlie and I did it with Mom, and, finally, a few years ago, Kellie, Claudia and her boy-toy Ted got included in the festivities. Often, we would get all dressed up, and I’d make a nice meal. It was a special day each year with my Mom, one that I cherished.

The days are now counting down on my Mom’s life. I prefer not to get overly sad and melancholy about this, because she has lived a very full life, with many accomplishments and memories, and has raised four children who she is very proud of and who love her very much. And, I know that she knows this and is happy for it.

The last time I saw my Mom, her eyes watered up and she said, “I love you, Craig.”

That may be my final memory of my Mom, and, if so, that’s not so bad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Sunday, Father’s Day, here in Hurricane, Utah. It’s going to be a scorcher today, 104 degrees, so I won’t be hiking, walking the dogs, or doing much else other than sitting in the air-conditioned RV, watching TV and slurping ice cold drinks.

I will watch the U.S. Open golf tournament later today. Our local (Murrieta, California) golf hero Rickie Fowler is two shots out of the lead going into today’s finale. He’s never won a “major” golf championship, and the U.S. Open is the biggest of all.

Rickie is an unusual golfer. He has all the talent in the world, but he also has good looks and a winning personality. Sort of like Arnold Palmer. And, just like Arnie, Mr. Fowler has made much more money off the course than he has on it. Rickie is only 28 years old and has more endorsements than many more accomplished golf pros.

The biggest question about Rickie is, now that he’s got all the money he will ever need, is whether he will reach his golf potential, or just be happy with being a celebrity. As his golf coach said this year, “Do you want to win championships, or do you want to be a Kardashian?”

Hopefully, our Murrieta Valley High School superstar will bring his “A” game today to the U.S. Open.

We will be leaving Hurricane on Tuesday, heading north to Moab, Utah. It’s been a nice stop here: good hiking, a nice RV park, lots of amenities nearby, and we’ve met some nice people, too. WiFi reception has been acceptable, if a bit slow. Charlie has said that she would return to this RV park.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but Hurricane is located about 26 miles north of the Arizona-Utah state line. At that point, there are two sister cities, Colorado City and Hilldale, which straddle the border. They are home to the FLDS cult (Fundamentalist Mormon) that has become infamous for polygamy, child abuse, welfare fraud, tax evasion, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and sex crimes against minors. Other than that, I suppose that they are good God-fearing, Bible-thumping Christians, with love in their hearts.

Hurricane is the closest legitimate city to Colorado City/Hilldale, so the FLDS cult women (captives?) come into town to shop for groceries at Lin’s Market, which is a block from the Willow Wind RV Park (where we’re staying). It’s hard not to notice these gals and their children.

No, this photo wasn’t shot on Sunday. This is how they dress everyday, everywhere. The women and their daughters are covered from head to toe with old-fashioned dresses, and wear ugly, clunky shoes. They also appear to wear no makeup whatsoever, and all of them have long hair which is combed up high on the head. It’s a weird, severe look, certain to chase off amorous advances from men, which is, I’m sure, what the FLDS polygamous husbands intend.

In the ten days that we’ve been here, I’ve seen many of these gals at the supermarket, and I’ve yet to see one smiling. They look grim. (Maybe that’s because their husband has twenty other wives, and their primary job in life is to produce more female children for their husband to abuse?)

During the past week, the acting FLDS cult chief, Lyle Jeffs, who had been on the lam from law enforcement, was apprehended in South Dakota. He’s facing multiple charges, including food stamp fraud, in association with the many other scams that the FLDS cult has been running for many years. Lyle’s older brother, Warren, who is the “Prophet” and spiritual leader of the cult, is serving a life sentence for a variety of crimes, mostly against women. The brothers’ father, Rulon, was the former Prophet, and had 75 wives. When Rulon died, and his son Warren took over the reins, he married his father’s 20 remaining wives (his stepmothers). “Hey, Mom, you’re looking pretty sexy tonite; come to bed!

Anyway, it is a sad spectacle here in southern Utah, seeing these captive, brainwashed women and children trudge about, like zombies. It fills my heart with sadness to see women mistreated like this.

The mainstream Mormon Church (LDS) is dominant in Utah, and the people here seem to be very fine folk. Polygamy, which was a key original tenet of Mormonism, was outlawed in the LDS faith over 100 years ago, so the FLDS adherents are tolerated, but looked down upon as an embarrassment to the faith. Mormonism has moved on, they say. Now, if they would only permit alcohol sales at the supermarket…

The best thing about Utah are the beautiful red rocks in various shades and shapes. On Tuesday, we will be driving about 5 hours north, and will be driving through a lot of them. I can hardly wait to get to Moab and resume my hiking mission.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Way back in 1974 (March 23rd, to be exact), the day I simultaneously graduated from college and got married, I became the stepfather to four young boys. Little did I know then that it was the best decision that I would ever make.

To be honest, having and raising children was never a priority of mine in young adulthood. I figured that there were plenty of human beings already on the planet, and my DNA wasn’t all that special. Besides, I had my schooling to finish up (after leaving the Air Force), and wanted to devote myself to a career.

Well, along came nurse “Charlie” Heim, and all of that changed. A divorced, sole-support mother, she had her hands full with the young lads, ages 3 to 8, while working double-shifts, on welfare, and trying to save her house from foreclosure. So, Mr. Prince Charming rode to the rescue, and we formed a neat little family unit and made a life for ourselves.

The four boys were all very different, with different personalities, attributes, and interests. Charlie and I tried the best we could to nurture them, guide them, and make their lives interesting. We didn’t coddle them, we taught them the difference between right and wrong, and we were there for them when they needed help or a shoulder to cry on.

I certainly wasn’t a perfect Dad, I’m sure. My father was “old school” when it came to discipline, but he was fair, and gave his children a lot of room to be themselves and enjoy their youth. I tried to emulate him, because he was a very fine man whom I loved greatly. If he were still alive, I hope he would be proud of my parental effort.

I did receive a nice compliment many years ago, on the occasion of youngest son Jonathan’s graduation, as I recall. Alex Heim, the boys’ biological father, attended the event. He came up to me after the festivities and thanked me for doing such a good job in raising his sons. That was probably the proudest moment of my life.

The “boys” are all grown men now, and are all successful, contributing members of society.

Tim, the oldest, is a Realtor as well as an Animal Medical Lab Technician, and also helps Charlie out in her business from time to time.

Ron is a Lieutenant in the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department.

Jeff is a manager in a very large commercial printing company in Orange County.

And, youngest son Jonathan, who was an accomplished cabinetmaker before the Great Recession, is now my wife’s partner in her bookkeeping business.

Charlie and I are very close to Tim, Jeff, and Jonathan and their families. We share special events, vacation with them, and provide guidance and support, when requested. We talk to at least one of them every day. Other than Charlie, those three guys are my best friends in the world, and I’m so happy that they are a big part of our lives.

There’s been some drama in each of their lives, and we’ve tried to help. It’s a difficult thing, as a parent, determining just how much love and support to provide without intruding too much or enabling bad behavior. I would like to think that, if one of them has a problem, he wouldn’t hesitate one second to give me a call. I would lay down in front of a bus for those guys.

Our other son, Ron, is estranged from us (Charlie and I and his three brothers) at this time, to our great regret. For reasons that make sense to her, Ron’s wife wants Ron to only socialize with her family, and he’s gone along with it. I don’t respect what he’s done, but he must have good reason (in his mind), and he will have to live with the consequences. All of us miss Ron in our daily lives; it’s really a shame that he has elected to shun his own family. Not only did we lose a son, but we lost a friend. I hurt every time I think about Ron. Maybe someday we will all get back together…

My current role as “Father” includes the raising of our three dogs, Booger, JayJay, and Baby. Charlie and I consider them our other “children” now, and we are doing the best we can to keep them healthy, happy, and sociable. It is a big responsibility sharing a life with a dog, and it’s a lot of work, particularly when one of them is a puppy. But, as in raising our sons, it is very gratifying work, especially when progress is made. We are so proud when our dogs are in a social setting with other dogs…and they behave well! That’s when you know that you’re doing it the right way.

I’m almost 70 years old now, in pretty good health. If I’m lucky, I will have another ten or twenty years to enjoy my children, human and canine.

It’s a Happy Father’s Day!

 

 

 

 

In Zion National Park, the ultimate thrill for hikers is the Angel’s Landing trail. It’s 5.4 miles round-trip, with an altitude gain of 1,488 ft. It’s a cardio-vascular test, for sure, and it is also a challenge for anyone who has fear of heights. Lots of 1,000 foot drop-offs a few feet from the narrow trail.

It’s not for everyone; in fact, Zion hiking literature warns would-be hikers about the risks, and there are signs at the trailhead reminding hikers that this is the real deal: Beware, “don’t bit off more than you can chew”, etc. Most people who start up this trail don’t get anywhere near the summit; they back off when they realize what they’re up against.

I did this hike last year when I when I was an out-of-shape 68 year-old. Then, it took me 2 hours to get to the top, including many rest stops. I feel that I’m in better shape this year, so I thought I kill a morning and give it another try.

Angel’s Landing is a sandstone monolith that is situated toward the back of Zion Canyon where the Virgin river makes a sweeping turn.

The trail from the shuttle stop to the base of the mountain is a mile long with some pretty views. Then begins a serious slog up a steep series of switchbacks. Most tourists poop out on this section of the hike, particularly those with little kids, out-of-shape desk jockeys, and old geezers who have no business trudging up a steep slope in the heat of the day.

After that, there is a more benign trail which meanders along and between rock cliffs, with a stream and trees; very pretty in there.

At the end of this leisurely segment, the hiker must trudge up Walter’s Wiggles, a series of 21 switchbacks that were cut into a very steep canyon wall in 1926. I had to rest many times here last year. Atop the Wiggles is Scout Lookout, where most non-serious hikers and parents with children bow out.

From Scout Lookout to the summit, the carefully manicured/paved trail is replaced with a roughly-defined dirt path which takes the hiker along sheer cliffs, over and in between boulders, and atop sandstone slick rocks. (I read today that five people fell off this trail to their deaths, as of 2015!)

There is a ridge/spine of rock which connects Scout Lookout with the summit. Basically, there is a 1,000 foot sheer drop-off on either side of the path, and the “trail” at this point is very steep, so a series of posts with steel cables are imbedded into the sandstone to give the hiker something with which to maintain balance. The narrow path along the cable routes must be shared by hikers going up the mountain and those who are descending. So, it is important for everyone to be safety conscious and thoughtful of each other. In this environment, everyone seems to be very mature and serious. And, thank goodness for that!

 

This part of the journey is not hiking, per se, but more like “scrambling” over and around obstacles, while contemplating some stupid mistake that will send you off the cliff, out of control. It’s not for everybody; I just keep my eyes on the path and watch where and how I’m stepping. If you do this, and have good quality hiking boots, it’s manageable.

Eventually, if you gut it out, you reach the summit of Angel’s Landing, and it’s a sublime view from up there.

Most of the hikers who make it to the top are twenty year-olds, to be honest. I felt pretty good in their company.

While at the summit, I had my usual lunch of jerky, trail mix, and Gatorade.

At the summit of virtually every peak that I’ve climbed, there are “food bandits” waiting for their share of the hiker’s meal. In this case, I was quickly surrounded by a pack of miniature chipmunks, who were quite brazen in their panhandling, running in between, under, and atop my legs to get at my ziplocks full of goodies. I got a nice video of the episode, but can’t include it here.

It’s a beautiful place up here; really makes you feel small and insignificant.

My trip to the summit took me 80 minutes this year, as opposed to 120 minutes last year. So, I think the Grand Canyon hiking and the other hiking I’ve done here at Zion has done me some good. In fact, I didn’t need to take any rest breaks from the river to the top of Scout Lookout.

Unfortunately, a senior citizen appeared to have met his demise on the trail while I was coming down the mountain. I was through the Wiggles, coming down the steep trail, when I came upon this scene.

The gentleman had a cardiac arrest and some Good Samaritan was giving him vigorous CPR while others held some material over him for shade and privacy. I could hear the chest massages going on a minute or so before I came upon the sad scene. The really bad part of this tragedy was that the nearest road is probably 1.5 miles down a steep trail, and there’s no cell phone reception at this point. I was at least a quarter mile down the hill (past the victim) when I saw the first responder (Forest Service) speeding up the trail to render assistance. Then, maybe another ten minutes before I passed paramedics huffing and puffing their way up the trail. And, maybe another five minutes before local Fire Dept guys with a stretcher came up the trail from the road. They were a mile from the victim at that point. Too little, too late, I’m afraid. (I ran into a Zion shuttle driver this morning at the laundromat.  She told me the victim was a 71 year-old man.)

What many older, out-of-shape “hikers” don’t realize is that the ascent up those steep trails and switchbacks to Walter’s Wiggles is tantamount to an hour-long cardiac stress test, with no doctor present if the heart starts to fail. Anyone who has taken one of those tests knows that the heart can get exhausted quickly when the treadmill is ramped up.

On Wednesday, for our unfortunate, nameless hiker, that long, steep slope, at almost 1 mile in elevation, turned out to be his Stairway to Heaven.

On a lighter note, we’re having a good time here in Hurricane, Utah at Willow Wind RV Park.

We saw a Tiny House the other day:

Booger appropriated the water dish at the local leash-free dog park for unauthorized uses:

Here, I’m resting my aching feet with my little doggies after a long hike:

We’ve met nice people here, all of the amenities in Hurricane are close by, and we are adjusting to the RV life again…plus one. So far, so good.

 

 

I ran across a phrase today in the news: “exculpatory ineptitude”. With it, the writer was attempting to encapsulate the Republican Party’s excuses for President Trump’s many pratfalls and the inability of the GOP-led Congress to get anything accomplished. The GOP translation: excuse us, because we don’t know what we’re doing.

It reminds me of these guys. Just substitute President Trump, Senate Majority Leader McConnell, and Speaker of the House of Representatives Ryan.

President Trump, who has been in office less than five months, has demonstrated quite clearly that he has no idea what he’s doing, committing gaffe upon gaffe, insulting allies, embarrassing America, and accomplishing almost nothing. According to him, his achievements have  been “Yuge”, even though America knows better.  But, in admitting that Trump is drowning in his own man-made quicksand, Speaker of the House Paul Ryan this past week defended the President by saying that, “He’s new to this.”

That would excuse Mr. Trump, presumably, for insisting that the FBI Director honor personal loyalty to the President over his duty to country, or publicly disparaging judges who rule against his ill-conceived Executive Orders, or disrespecting the Mayor of London after a terror attack in that city, or stocking his Administration with business cronies, former lobbyists, and relatives, among other things.

 

Also, being “new to this” would excuse his refusal to honor Washington D.C. norms, like revealing his tax returns to American voters and making public the visitor logs to the White House. In addition, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, the public also needs to cut him some slack on conflicts of interest, the lack of detail in any of the policy proposals that he’s put forward, and his continual lying about…well, just about any subject that comes up.

His fibs, exaggerations, falsehoods, canards, lies, and damned lies have damaged his credibility (and, America’s?) to the extent that he has taken to adding the following phrase to virtually every statement he makes: “Believe me.” He knows he’s lying, and he’s pretty sure that you know, but, sales is what he’s good at (not governing), so he doubles down on his outrageous claims, hoping to bluff his way to credibility. Donald Trump is definitely not “new to this” when it comes to lying. His typical response when he’s screwed the pooch is, “Fake news!”

At the rate he’s going, Mr. Trump may become remembered as the “Fake President”.

Similarly, the Republican Party is trying to come to grips with the fact that it controls the Federal government right now and can’t seem to get anything of consequence done.

Again, House Speaker Ryan has come to the defense of the GOP, by making the lame excuse that Republicans were out of power so long in Washington D.C. that they’ve forgotten how to get things done. “We’ve been an opposition party for the past 10 years; we’ve got to become a proposition, governing party.” In essence, they’re “new to this” idea of actually trying to accomplish things for the American public, instead of shooting spitwads in Congress, obstructing then-President Obama, and trashing any and all ideas that the other party offered up. It must be tough changing one’s spots…to try to become constructive rather than destructive.

So, America is supposed to give them a pass on their ineptitude, because they’re “new to this”, even though the GOP has controlled Congress for 18 of the past 22 years. Question: Were you asleep in class, or what?

The bottom line is that no one in D.C. is working together on anything. The Republicans aren’t working out differences with Democrats, factions in the Republican Party can’t cooperative to get anything done in Congress, and President Trump is doing his own thing, not working effectively with the GOP, disdaining any dialogue with Democrats, and not even communicating very well with his own Cabinet officials and close advisors. In essence, there is no leadership.

Government is a team sport, and the team is the whole nation. Leadership is required to get the whole nation enthused and working together to accomplish important goals.

One problem that we have is that President Trump is trying (mostly by himself) to enact policy changes that are not supported by most Americans. Ninety million eligible voters didn’t vote for Mr. Trump, and less than half of the people who did vote chose Trump over Clinton (which Mr. Trump denies to this day). So, the President has no solid mandate to do what he wants to do.

His own party, the GOP, is aware of this, as is the Federal bureaucracy, which the Trump Administration is attempting to dismantle. Hence, there is resistance to Executive authority, rebellion in the ranks, embarrassing leaks, etc. GOP Congressmen have to run for re-election in 2018, and they don’t want to get hog-tied to some of the President’s unpopular ideas.

The second problem is that Donald Trump doesn’t understand the Constitution or, more likely, doesn’t want to play ball according to the rules laid down in it.

President Trump seems to think that, because he won the Electoral College vote, he is now clear to do whatever he deems fit, and that everyone should just cooperate or get out of the way. This includes Congress, the Judiciary, and the professional bureaucracy, which is the infrastructure of the Federal government. As far as Trump is concerned, Federal officials need to show fealty to him, rather than honor their oath to uphold the Constitution.

For legal, moral, and political reasons, there is resistance to this imperial approach, so President Trump is frustrated and lashes out in daily tweetstorms, further demonstrating his lack of wisdom, temperament and maturity. And, thus, makes a fool of himself and, unfortunately, the United States of America.

But, it’s not Trump’s fault, because he’s new to this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today, I had the chance to hike up in Zion National Park. I love that place. It’s beautiful, has many nice hiking opportunities, and is well-served by a shuttle service. Did I mention that it is beautiful?

There are three “must do” hikes in Zion: Angel’s Landing; The Narrows; and, Observation Point. The first one is a cardio-vascular/fear of heights test, which I passed last year. The second is a wet and wild slog through one of the most beautiful slot canyons in the world. Again, I did that one last year. And, the third, is an opportunity to view all of the majesty of Zion from “the rooftop”. This was my quest today.

The 8-mile trek began at Weeping Rock Trailhead. The first couple of miles is basically right up an escarpment. The trail starts right at Big Bend of the river. I started at 8:15 a.m. The map says that, up and down, it’s a 4 to 6 hour round-trip, with 2,100 feet vertical ascent.

The trail, although steep going up the cliffs, is much more hiker-friendly than the South Kaibab Trail washboard. And, of course, the scenery is better, too.

Some of the rock faces on the trail are 1,000 feet high, in various colors.

Maybe half way up the trail is a beautiful slot canyon, which I didn’t have a lot of time to explore. It is evident that quite a bit of water has poured through here.

I made it to Observation Point (4 miles) in 2 hours. It was a beautiful 270-degree panorama, one that I shared on “Face Time” with my son Tim (who called me on the phone right as I reached the top!) and wife Charlie.

Some 20 year-old flatbellies from Mississippi, who had hiked up the trail with me, sat on the edge of the cliff, eating snacks and taking in the majesty of Zion Valley.

The only other comparable view that I’ve witnessed in person is atop Half Dome in Yosemite. It takes your breath away.

By the way, these guys were planning on doing The Narrows…later in the day! I expressed amazement (hey, impetuous youth), particularly when they hadn’t planned to get the special pole and neoprene socks/water boots that make the in-river trek tolerable. I gave them my advice; I hope they took it.

The trip down the mountain was a breeze compared to the slog up it. It’s always nice to pass winded hikers trudging upward; gives you a sense of accomplishment, superiority, etc. Who knows if they will make it all the way to the top?

One thing that I didn’t capture in these photos was the large number of women doing this particular hike. I would guess that between 60 and 70 percent of all the hikers on the trail were women, some solo, and many in groups of 3, 4 and more. I’m thinking that the girls may have better stamina than the guys, because this was a tough hike.

That white-faced cliff, just right of top center, is Observation Point. It is 500′ higher than Angel’s Landing.

I completed the 8-mile trip in four hours flat, including rest stops and a 15-minute break at the summit.

On the way back to the parking lot via the shuttle, I noticed how busy the park had become. There was a quarter-mile long line of hikers waiting at the Visitor Center to board the shuttle headed up-Valley. The crowd of people reminded me of the throngs at Disneyland. This is one popular national park.

Hopefully, I can do more hiking here on this trip.

 

Thursday: It was a long, tiring trip up from Las Vegas. We lost 45 minutes to a major accident on the 515 north of Henderson, and maybe another half hour due to “construction zones”. Interstate 40, which used to be Route 66, is a washboard of a road; probably more than 66 major potholes per mile. It sucks.

Something must go wrong on each leg of an RV trip; it says so in the Bible, I believe. So, I was literally waiting for some fuck up to happen, and…it did. When we finally arrived at Trailer Village in Grand Canyon, I found out that we were A DAY EARLY! In other words, our reservation didn’t begin until the next day. Oops! I was mortified, because I do all the trip planning. But, my doofus ass was saved by the nicest lady in the camp office, who finagled another night’s accommodation for us in the “Full” RV Park. As she told me, they keep one 50′ full hook-up space in reserve (the “Hail Mary”) for idiots like myself who create an emergency situation for themselves. Thank you , Jesus (er, Mary)!!

It is a small RV park, nestled in the pine trees, but it has the basics, and it’s only $45 per night, located within hiking distance of everything in Grand Canyon Village. A shuttle bus takes you everywhere in the Park, and its free.

The RV park seems to be the foraging grounds for a herd of elk who wander aimlessly about, scarfing up on tree leaves, weeds, and whatever, seemingly oblivious to the human guests. Some of the elk are very large, and the dogs are quite interested in their comings and goings.

It’s difficult to describe some of the things one sees at the Grand Canyon. Many natural wonders to appreciate…

Friday: Today, I hiked out to Yaki Point, took a look at the South Kaibab Trailhead, and then walked the Rim Trail over to Mather Point. In all, I put in about 5.7 miles on my hiking boots, and got a few nice photos.

(My friend Jason Friedman has talked about joining me here so that we can do a “bucket list” hike from South Kaibab, down to the Colorado River, and back up to the South Rim via the Bright Angel Trail. It is a very strenuous hike of over 20 miles, with the last 6 miles ascending (laboriously) about 4,500 feet to Grand Canyon Village. I’ve noticed many signs warning that a one-day Rim to River to Rim hike is not recommended by the Park Service…it’s a bruiser, and people have perished making the attempt. But, if Jason wants to do it, we probably will. After all, you only live once, right?)

Saturday: Over the past two days, I’ve walked the Rim Trail from Yaki Point to Bright Angel Trailhead, a little over 6 miles.

There are some great vistas, of course…this is the Grand Canyon, for goodness sakes!…but the neatest views are achieved when you risk a bit and climb out on a rock precipice, with 1,000 feet of air under you. It’s probably pretty dangerous if you’ve got two left feet or vertigo. I overheard some young folks talking on the shuttle bus today about a guy who (yesterday) was out on one of the un-fenced ledges goofing off with his cell phone camera and fell off the cliff to his death.

Speaking of dangerous, the wildlife up here in the Arizona high country can be trouble if you’re not paying attention. We met a local here in the RV park (I think he works within the National Park) who was, with the help of a couple of young bucks, straightening out the front end of his Chevy pick-up. He had run into a deer several months ago, and the impact caved in his grille and, of course, the deer…which he and the family enjoyed for Thanksgiving dinner. The man said that, had the animal been an elk, n0 one would have survived the encounter.

I met a very nice gal today at the Bright Angel Trailhead. I was looking down the trail/escarpment, with a ton of questions, when I noticed this lady (in her 40’s) sitting on a bench. She had hiking gear, backpack, etc., and looked a bit winded.  I asked her if she had hiked Bright Angel and she said, “Yes, from the River”, and she told me that it had taken her about 5 hours. It turned out that she had hiked the North Rim to the South Rim in two days, staying overnight at the River. The “Rim to Rim” is a very special hiking achievement, with 5,000 feet of descent and 4,500 feet of ascent over a distance of 23 miles. That hike requires one to drop their car at Bright Angel Trailhead, take a bus 4-1/2 hours around to the North Rim, and then hike back to your car. Yipes! And, she was a lone hiker, to boot. What a lady, and Kudos to Her!!

There is cell phone service here at Trailer Village, but we’re getting only a bar or two of signal strength (at best), so our WiFi hot spot is minimally effective. Charlie is totally befuddled by this, and I can’t do my blog here; I will have to save my thoughts and photos for publishing when we get to Hurricane, Utah. That sucks.

Our dogs love it here.  Lots of new, interesting smells (especially the elk droppings), and very nice, paved walking/bike trails going everywhere. Our pooches are getting plenty of exercise.

When they aren’t out exploring the camp and adjacent forest, the dogs have a fancy containment pen to camp out in, or they can just hang out inside the rig. There is plenty of room in the motor home, and the dogs find nooks and crannies where they can nap and keep cool.

Our six-month puppy, Baby, is doing great. She’s a full member of “The Pack” now, and is often the lead dog when we take a stroll. And, knock on wood, she is pretty much potty-trained now. No poops in the rig, and she will send signals to us when she gets the urge to go out. She might lick us a bunch or emit a low whine, which is tantamount to “You’ve Been Warned”. So, she’s working with us, and we appreciate it. She’s a lovely dog.

My tentative plans for the coming week include doing several-hour hikes down into the Canyon; maybe 3 hours each, just to get the hang of it.

Sunday: I got up early, took two shuttle buses, and made it out to the South Kaibab Trailhead by 8 a.m. The elevation there is 7,200 feet, with the Colorado River approximately 5,000 feet below. The trail is steep, “very difficult”, and my intention was to do what was comfortable and see how it went, all the while realizing that the return trip will be all uphill, in the  heat of the day, with little or no shady spots.

If you could read the detail on these trail information placards, you would notice that the potential hiker is warned, many times, about the trail conditions, the elevation, and heat issues, etc. “Proceed with caution” is the byword.

I made it down to Ooh-Aah Point (0.9 miles, 540′ descent) in about 20 minutes, felt good, and headed downward some more.

I reached Cedar Ridge (1.5 miles, 1,080′ descent) in another 20 minutes, still feeling pretty good. The scenery was very nice; however, the trail was very rough, mostly because it is used by horses and mules, so there are long stretches of awkward “staircases” of rock cobbles, wood cross members, and hard-packed uneven/rutted dirt. Luckily for me, I had brought my hiking poles, which helped me negotiate this nightmare of a trail.

The rule of thumb is that it takes a hiker, on a normal trail, about twice the time to hike up a trail that it did hiking down the trail. So, I was forty minutes into my hike, and I could figure about 80 minutes to get back to the South Rim.

After thinking about it a bit, I decided to press on to Skeleton Point (3 miles into the Canyon) . I arrived there, which is halfway to the Colorado River, at 9:30 a.m. Even though the hike so far had been all downhill, it had been a tough scramble down steep, very rough trails, so I was a bit tired. I had a snack of jerky, trail mix, and Gatorade and rested for about ten minutes before beginning the 2,000′, three-mile climb back to the South Rim.

It was a grueling ascent. The temperature was heating up, and the heat radiated off of the rocks. In most areas of the trail, I could go maybe a few hundred yards before taking a breather; in some steep stretches, with the “staircase” lumps and bumps, maybe half that.

When I made it back to Cedar Ridge, I was pooped, so I stopped  for maybe 30 minutes to eat lunch (which I shared with a squirrel) and cool off a bit under the partial shade of a small tree.

I then resumed the Hell-ish trudge up the slope and, after many rest stops to catch my breath, reached the summit at 12:10 p.m. So, my trek to Skeleton Point and back had taken 90 minutes going down and 220 minutes climbing back the trailhead.

It was a tough hike, but was made tougher because I got a late start. If I was to do it again, I would begin a 5 a.m. and would be done with it by mid-morning, before the Hell Hole heats up.

I met some nice people on the trail, including a Ranger who was positioned just below Cedar Ridge to caution inexperienced hikers and help out anyone in trouble. I can imagine that he is kept quite busy, because there are a lot of tourists on the trail who do not belong there. South Kaibab is signed “very difficult” for a reason (because people have been hurt and have died on it), yet many tourists don’t give the trail enough respect, heading down the steep, slippery slope in sandals and flip-flops, no hiking poles, and carrying minimal water.  I saw idiots with no water hippety-hopping down the slope with big smiles on their faces; I’ll bet they didn’t have those smiles when they had to slog out, banged-up and dehydrated. (Note: I carried about 200 ounces of Gatorade down the trail, and used about 150 ounces in four hours.)

All in all, it was a productive day. I got limbered up, didn’t get hurt, didn’t overextend myself, and developed a great respect for the Grand Canyon. It is an awesome place below the Rim; I’m glad that I experienced it.

Tuesday: Back at the home front (i.e.  at the rig), we’ve run into a few problems. For starters, although this RV park met our trip planning business criteria (Verizon cell phone service), the cell signal, hence the WiFi strength, is insufficient to run Charlie’s digital office properly. And, as it turns out, one of her clients had an important meeting today that required up-to-date financials. Charlie had to farm some of her work out to our son Jonathan in Montana, and he came through big time. But, she remains upset about the crappy WiFi.

Secondly, Jason Friedman, our honorary 5th son, who was going to come here and hike with me, notified us yesterday that he’s just too busy at work (building contractor) to make the trip. That sucks, in that the two of us won’t have the opportunity to kill ourselves on the brutal Rim-River-Rim hike that we had planned for May 9th. Damn! (Actually, my calves are still  sore from the South Kaibab Trail meat grinder two days ago. I’m out of shape. So, maybe Jason’s absence is a blessing.)

So, because of Jason’s no-show, we actually have an opportunity to resolve the WiFi issue by relocating to Hurricane, Utah three days earlier, which I was able to confirm yesterday. Accordingly, we will pack our gear early Wednesday and make the 250-mile trek around the east end of the Grand Canyon into southern Utah. It will probably take us about 6 hours to do that.

Another problem that we have is that Baby is growing up and is pushing the limits of her freedom. She will stroll out of the RV if the front door is open, but, thankfully, she doesn’t run off. However, she has taught herself how to clamber out of the communal dog pen, something the two other Bostons have never done. This creates a bit of a problem, because we like to let the dogs sit outside in their pen, absorbing sunlight, smelling the local smells, and watching kids play and people walking their dogs. But, if Baby cannot be contained in the pen, we will not be able to allow her that freedom (that the other two enjoy). I am going to have to come up with a “containment” solution for the pen, perhaps some netting. We’ll see.

Overall, though, we are very pleased with Baby. She is pretty much housebroken, and the only accidents we’ve encountered have been a couple of minor piddles caused by excitement or nervousness right at the door. She holds her pee and poo all night (until 5:30 a.m.!), is very sociable with people and other dogs, and occupies her time around the rig chewing on a toy, playing with the other two dogs, and napping. Jay Jay plays more with Baby than Booger does, which surprises us.

As is typically the case with a long RV trip, the advanced planning is only a “plan”, and we adjust the itinerary based upon life’s little surprises. So, now, we will leave Grand Canyon Village after six days, with the new schedule calling for a 12-night stay over in Hurricane, Utah, which is the gateway to Zion National Park, my favorite. Hopefully, things will go smoothly there for the five of us.