Grand Canyon – Kay Foley

Taroko Gorge, Taroko National Park, Hualien Taiwan

This morning as I thought about what I’d write to you, I was sad to consider leaving Taiwan. Again. Now I’d be leaving behind my writing of it, having left the actual place over a month ago. I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. This got me to thinking about how certain places continue to live inside us long after we’ve left them.

I’m reminded of the lovely Beatles song, “In My Life.” Listening to this song now is bittersweet. I suppose it’s always meant to have been. I love so many of the places I’ve been, both humble and grand, and the people who were with me. I’ve continued to keep Akumal and Taipei in my phone’s list of weather forecasts, along with places my sons and siblings live. More importantly, I keep them in my heart.

There are places I remember . . .

The farmhouse at Jughandle Creek Farm and Nature Center

I remember Jughandle Creek Farm and Nature Center on the California coast near Mendocino, where my sister and I once stayed for a couple of nights. Great big old house with huge common areas, a rickety upright piano, and cozy bedrooms; tiny cabins on the property if you’re willing to walk up to the house for the bathroom. The best thing is, it’s across the road from the ocean! Beautiful beach at hand, breathtaking views from the headlands above. We picnicked at both spots.

I remember the Grand Canyon and Phantom Ranch, where another sister and I stayed. That’s a very hard trek with a great big fat reward. I remember us doubled over with laughter on the way back up, just as some miserable looking backpackers carrying God knows how many pounds came trudging by. And I can still picture the crescent moon hanging above the ridge as we started out early in the morning.

I remember green, gorgeous Scotland. My son Peter lived there for fifteen years and I managed to visit him there twice. Of course I fell in love with Scotland and every last thing about it, too. I adored the kilts, the bagpipes, peaty single malt scotch whiskey, millionaire’s shortbread, the Isle of Skye, the Highlands, neeps and tatties, the charming accent, and of course the local idioms. Och! It’s a bonnie land!

I remember New York City, the Met, Central Park. I remember Pt. Reyes. Yosemite with my sisters. Yosemite with my boys. Ogunquit, Maine. Acadia National Park.

San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Paris! Florence, Rome, Lake Como. Roundup Montana, my father’s birthplace.

All the places. I’m amazed that I’ve traveled as much as I have, and that all these places now live inside me. Now Taiwan tugs at my heart, even moreso as it’s so far away and getting there is so not fun (although I’d do it again) and I might never be there again–but most especially because it was with my son and he arranged the whole trip for me.

So the places are beautiful, grand, evocative, amazing and humble . . . And then there are the people. Almost all of the places in my sentimental wanderings come with people who are dear to me. Sure, there were a very few sojourns I’ve taken that have given me something else completely that I’ve treasured; and I do love wandering our woods alone with my thoughts or commenting on this or that to my dog Miles. (Or singing. He loves that.) But for the big trips, I want to be with people I love. All the places. And all the people.

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

“Haud yer wheesht!” (Hold your tongue!) – Scottish saying

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” ― Joan Didion

“Regular maps have few surprises: their contour lines reveal where the Andes are, and are reasonably clear. More precious, though, are the unpublished maps we make ourselves, of our city, our place, our daily world, our life; those maps of our private world we use every day; here I was happy, in that place I left my coat behind after a party, that is where I met my love; I cried there once, I was heartsore; but felt better round the corner once I saw the hills of Fife across the Forth, things of that sort, our personal memories, that make the private tapestry of our lives.”

― Alexander McCall Smith, Love Over Scotland

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

My sister and me at the start of our 2018 hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. We look perky, don’t we?

A couple of good friends texted the other morning, asking if I’d like to hike down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Of course without skipping a beat I said YES! I have done it twice before and it was amazing. I cannot imagine turning down any chance to do it. It is gorgeous from the rim, changes remarkably all the way down, and Phantom Ranch is simply magical. No cell phones, no internet, no TV, no kids. Quiet and beautiful.

My sister and I hiked down in 2005 and again in 2018. The first time, I was visiting her in Tucson in January and we wanted to do something adventurous. Of course, the Grand Canyon! We called and found there was a cabin available at Phantom Ranch, two days hence. We gathered up what we thought we’d need and drove to the park the next day. We discovered there was snow and ice for the first two or three miles (it gets warmer as you go down) but were assured that we could buy crampons for $3.50 in the gift shop and would be fine. I was wearing running shoes. At the time I insisted that I did not like hiking boots. Goofy. So we bought crampons and headed down the next morning. It was tricky but amazing.

Those running shoes were not even in good shape! What was I thinking?

At Phantom Ranch, dinner (you can choose Steak, Steak Stew or Vegetable Stew) is served in the Canteen at long tables, so you get to meet other hikers. They were all talking about their months of planning and training, so that was the first question they asked us. “We just decided to come day before yesterday.” That was fun.

When we went in 2018, we started down late, thinking we had it all going on. We knew the ropes. Seasoned hikers and all. But it is hard. Especially if you’re short. There are many many “steps” down, made from big chunks of rock, much harder to navigate if you have short legs. Hamstrings, oh those poor hamstrings! Pretty soon, we were both saying it was a lot harder than we’d remembered, mistakenly thinking we’d just made the first trek a few years prior. Nope. Thirteen! Seasoned hikers, my eye. Old hikers. I have to say I did feel vindicated, when I returned home, to realize that that much time had passed. But we barely got there in time for dinner and we were beat.

2018. We set out pre-dawn when we hiked out, a gorgeous crescent moon hanging over the canyon wall.

Even though we did plan that time, for months in advance, it was much harder to get a cabin and we had to spend that first night in a dorm. Not recommended! Five sets of bunkbeds, a single hook for all your belongings, no bench to sit on to take off your boots, a toilet and sink, ten people gassy and snoring all night long, and at 5:30 a.m. someone bangs open the door and shouts, “Early breakfast!” So even if you’re not having early breakfast, you’re awake for it.

But the cabins are sweet. Tiny and simple but lovely, built of stone, nice and quiet. Two sets of bunkbeds and a little bitty bathroom. Showers in the bath house down the path.

And so I am excited to go again, in March 2023. I admit to feeling guilty that I’m going without my sister this time, but one cannot turn down the Grand Canyon. It is, after all, grand! And I feel the need to go and do while I can. Perhaps she and I will go again, when we are even older and more seasoned.

“Crying – acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon.” – Ron Swanson, Parks & Recreation

“I had come to the canyon with expectations. I wanted to see snowy egrets flying against the black schist at dusk; I saw blue-winged teal against the green waters at dawn. I had wanted to hear thunder rolling in the thousand-foot depths; I heard the guttural caw of four ravens…what any of us had come to see or do fell away. We found ourselves at each turn with what we had not imagined.” ― Barry López, Crossing Open Ground

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Tag: Grand Canyon

All the Places

Grand Canyon Adventures