Coop's Corner: Grand Canyon in Winter

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Grand Canyon in Winter - Rest of Story

Images from my wintery trip west...

Headed to our neighbor to the south......"Iowa - A Place To Grow".....but not until it warms up.

Eisenhower Memorial Tunnel

In the Eisenhower Memorial Tunnel

Frisco, Colorado

Glenwood Canyon, 2 lane road, here the mighty Colorado River

Into Utah, leaving the not-as-colorful Colorado

Near Beaver, UT

A little paint, patch the roof, ........

Rhyolite, NV

20 Mule Team (without the mules) We TV watchers from the 60's will remember seeing these huge carts on Death Valley Days

Death Valley....the low spot without the sea.

Sequoia National Park

The big trees.....

Coop in front of a very big tree

Big snowbanks....little car

Walking around on TOP of those snowbanks, more snow beneath me than I am tall. I've always thought of this shot as "Sleeping Bear" (not without jammies).

Out Whiskeytown way......

A snowy day at Lassen Volcanic National Park

Lake Shasta.....

Lake Shasta Dam.....

Wupatki National Monument.....

and a couple more from the Grand Canyon. My 2nd "run in 10 seconds to get back in time" shot. Here I'm fidgeting with something in my pack or making it look that way.

Blooming cactus along the Colorado River

7 comments:

Martha November 16, 2013 at 7:44 PM
I just got a second job and now you are making me want to jump in my car and head west...

Looks like you are a tunnel man. I love tunnels- to drive through, photograph, the lights, the sounds, the colors, the feeling of speeding though.

The thing about snow is that it's very hard to have it around as an inconvenience. In order to live with the stuff you have to make an adventure out of it.
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SonjaMNovember 17, 2013 at 3:01 AM
This is amazing. I have been in those places another time and another season but I have strong memories about it. Thanks for bringing them back.
Kudos to you for winter camping. I have not ever had the desire to do so (I guess I would rather have slept in the car…).
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TrobairitzNovember 17, 2013 at 10:06 AM
Very neat. Thanks for taking the time to post all of the old pictures.

That tunnel looks to be quite the feat of engineering. And it worked.
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayNovember 17, 2013 at 4:59 PM
I still find it enjoyable to go back through the photos and bring an old trip back to life. Other than dropping Peg off at the airport, I was in our little valley all day though part of me was far west.

The engineering to make things work through these long tunnels is a puzzle to me, especially so using the old technologies and equipment.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)