A Very Happy Anniversary

Ten years ago today, Linda and I met for the first time. Six years ago today, we got married. I don't know what took us so long, since we were what a friend calls "lovebirds" from the very first. Not coincidentally, these have been the best ten years of my life, and this cross-country trip, which has reached its halfway point today, is certainly one of the high points of this wonderful decade.

We've spent the last couple of days exploring "Abbey country," the starkly spectacular southwest desert whose untarnished beauty Edward Abbey tried to protect from the forces of commercial development. He'd be pretty horrified to see what has become of his beloved desert. I wish I could figure out how to post photos on this blog to show how the Glen Canyon Dam has ruined Glen Canyon. The park brochure acknowledges that the dam was created "out of controversy and compromise," and you can buy three books by Abbey and two about him at the park bookstore. But they don't mention, for instance, that the compromise included the complete inundation of the town of Hite and other places where people lived until Lake Powell filled in much of the canyon after the dam opened in the 1960s. They do tell you that the shoreline of Lake Powell is greater than the entire Pacific coastline of the United States, which gives you an idea of how much property which residents used to look at and enjoy has been sacrificed to power boating, wave runners, and other development. The most prominent invasion, of course, is the hydroelectric power plants fed by Lake Powell and utilized by five states. Several transformers tower above the dam, with power lines stretching across the canyon and the shadows of the bridge criss-crossing the canyon walls. I took a lot of pictures at Glen Canyon Dam, and very few of them are pure desert. The signs of development are everywhere in what you see around the dam and the lake. No wonder Abbey wanted to blow it up.

Part of yesterday's pilgrimage was a drive out to Lee's Ferry, the launch point for river-running trips on large rafts which traverse white-water rapids to give customers views from the bottom of the Grand Canyon and other natural wonders. There we met a nice couple from Washington named Rick and Kathy, who were about to embark on a 22-day trip that would wind up on Lake Mead near Las Vegas. It sounded like a good deal at just $50 a day per person, with food and other supplies provided (though they had to bring their own booze).

Rick, it turns out, is related to a baseball Hall of Famer, Dave Bancroft, an infielder on John McGraw's championship teams of 1921 and 1922. Rick told us that when Bancroft was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1971 at age 80, his wife wouldn't let him go. She was afraid he'd flirt with all the young women in Cooperstown that weekend. It seems silly to think that such a concern would prevent a man from attending the greatest honor of his life, but perhaps she knew him better than I do. And her fears weren't irrational. There's a long tradition of Hall of Famers making mischief with female Hall of Fame staffers, including one legendary figure who's been known to call down for this or that woman to come to his room, where he greets her at the door naked.

Anyway, we were glad to see Lee's Ferry and some of the other sites Abbey wrote about. Now, as we continue to read him, we'll have a better idea of what he meant and why it was so important to him. Reading Abbey does bring out the anarchist in me, I'll admit. The night we arrived in Page, we had an annoying experience at a Burger King, and I promptly posted an anti-BK tirade on Facebook and sent the folks at BK an angry e-mail, assuring them that I'd never give them any of my business again. I got a reply yesterday, thanking me for my feedback--and promising to send me a coupon for a free Whopper. That's about what you'd expect from a big company like BK or the mega-developed who have covered a canyon with water to cash in on the boating craze, or the company that's tearing up the ground around Moab to make potash for farmers halfway across the world. They'll pay you a little lip service, but won't give you real service unless you're willing to part with cash.

Today is one of those day's when Linda's dialysis time is not very convenient. We wanted to go to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon today, but having to arrive at the dialysis center here in Tuba City, AZ, at 12:30pm didn't leave us enough time in the morning (the park is 90 minutes southwest of here). She's be done around 5pm, meaning we'd have to haul ass out to the park to catch what we could in an hour of daylight. We're staying tonight in Cameron, about halfway in between, and to catch the sunset, we wouldn't get back to Cameron until 8pm or so, not the best time for dinner if you ate breakfast at 9am and skipped lunch. Linda likes the leisurely pace we've maintained the last few days, so we're going to go straight to Cameron and stay there, enjoying an anniversary dinner in the restaurant of the lodge. We'll go to the South Rim early tomorrow morning, spend a few hours there, and head to the North Rim, where we're staying tonight. And if we don't cover everything we want to at the South Rim, we have the option of returning there on the first day of our eastward retreat, which begins one week from today. Flexibility rides again!