Of a river, canyons and a desert
Long weekends come and go, but I will have only one right foot. This is how I consoled myself when I stayed at home for a really long, long weekend, owing to the recovery from my fracture. One of those times when I wished I had injured myself a week earlier, if it really did have to happen. While most of my friends were busy hiking in different parts of the country, catching up with old buddies, or simply watching some series/movies, all I could do was reminisce about my last trip about two months ago and hope for more such to come my way.
As usual, I said a yes to the remote mention of a trip by a former roommate, with the assurance that it would be well planned. I was rather skeptical when I saw that not all five of us seemed to agree on the activities in our itinerary. The planning to the minutest detail did impress me though. As the date for the trip approached, we realised that it was not exactly the right time to go to the states of Arizona and Nevada which were bound to be among the hottest in the USA during the summer. Since it was too late to look for any other ideas, we decided to go ahead, come what may.
Even though we were getting ready to be roasted (quite literally) on the trip, the start of the trip was on a high note, with one of our birthday celebration. I was exhausted by the time we got on the flight, having spent the morning moving to a new house. We landed in the sin city late in the evening, amazed that the scorching heat did not seem to care that it was dark. We did not waste any time and quickly got our rental car and proceeded to drive to Page in Arizona. We all got a taste of how the trip would be, being introduced to each others’ quirks which were difficult to hide considering that we were all in dire need of sleep. We arrived in Page in the wee hours of the morning. We had a tiring day with a lot of kayaking to do, to look forward to. We did make it on time to kayak in the beautifully blue lake Powell, bestriding the border of Utah and Arizona. It seemed like an oasis, nestled amid rocks and canyons. Everybody had agreed to do this on my insistence; I hoped the three hours would be worth the while. We started kayaking towards the lone rock, which we could see from where we started. The distance seemed much longer than what we expected once we started. I tried to find motivation in the fact that a family with a young boy were going way faster than us. I had chosen to do this alone instead of in tandem and had to prove my mettle. It felt good to keep up with the “tradition” of touching the rock once we made it close enough. The occasional jet ski ruptured the calm and got us wobbling. After going around to see some canyons, we took a break on our way back where the guide and some others jumped into the lake for a swim. The pristine waters looked all the more alluring as the sun’s rays made it sparkle. If I regret anything in life, it is that I did not learn to swim when I did have the opportunity. The little water that seeped into the kayak was the only solace we had. Our arms had all the workout that they needed for a long time in those few hours.
We grabbed lunch and dried ourselves outside, which did not require much time. We then headed to the lower antelope canyon, again a few minutes away. The heat seemed to penetrate our very soul, smothering us. This was not even the maximal temperature we would be encountering on this trip. I was more relieved than disappointed when they said the canyon has been closed to visitors on account of the excessive heat. We managed to get some rest before going back to the upper antelope canyon, hoping that would not be cancelled. We waited for the tour to start, smearing sunscreen on ourselves and holding on to as many water bottles as we could. The lady who managed everything at the start reminded me of a PT (I learned that it stands for physical therapy, but don’t remember them doing anything “therapeutic”) master from primary school, sans a whistle. She ordered us about and we meekly listened, arranging ourselves in groups. We got into what looked like a military vehicle which took us to the canyon through dusty roads. This was the place that I was most excited about visiting on this trip, thanks to hundreds of beautiful photos I have seen on social media ever since I came to the USA. All that came crashing down soon after I stepped inside. Not because it was not beauteous, but because it had been reduced to a mere exhibit by the tour companies. I understand that there are time constraints due to the huge number of visitors, especially during a long weekend, but the guides did the imagining for us too, leading us to believe that we had indeed seen the birds and other forms that they trained us to decipher on the walls of the canyon. It was all a very well planned gimmick. Maybe I would change my mind if I went there on a less crowded day when I would be allowed to stare in awe all I want. I still wanted to give the lower canyon a chance, but who knew that waiting for coffee et al for a long time would alter our plans! I only remember going back to our room and flopping on the bed after some good Thai food for dinner.
We woke each other up some time before 5 AM the next day to get to horseshoe bend. It’s hard to believe something like this could be created by the agency of a river. People just sat there gazing at its splendor. Though it did not make any sense to be there for sunrise because the sun was not in view at all, the calm was just what we needed. We were back on road in a couple of hours, going in the direction of grand canyon national park. I had got a glimpse of the “grandeur” of the canyon when I visited the west rim with my father, and was glad I might be able to fathom it in its entirety now. The day was bearably warm for to let us choose to walk between viewpoints which did have shuttle stops. Our photos from every possible angles did little justice to what lay before our eyes. I liked how they tried to make it interesting for us, imploring us to find where we could spot the Colorado river flowing that is responsible for this spectacle.
We hoped to be able to spend some time in Las Vegas later that day, indulging in the vices the city has to offer. After lunch at an Indian restaurant, we drove to the hotel Bellagio to witness the fountain. All I needed was a siesta after two days and nights of little to no sleep. My dissent against the idea of getting out of the car into what seemed like an oven was met with rebuttal from all quarters and there I was, shouting and whining. We missed the beginning of one show of the musical fountain, because of which I had stay for another one. Though it was only a matter of fifteen minutes, I did lose an inch of my temper every minute that my sleep was taken away. It is no wonder why I do not end up going on trips with the same group of people more than once. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas though! I dozed off on our way to Pahrump, a town about sixty miles away.
Death valley national park, the hottest, driest and lowest in the country, was our final destination. I had read about people going to death valley only to experience the heat, and was sure I would not melt into nothing. We hopped off and on to the car really quick at every place we stopped, making sure we looked like someone dipped us in sunscreen. After seeing all that a river had accomplished over years, now we were in a desert. I never thought I would consider a place so barren and lifeless, beautiful. The geological oddities of this place made it fascinating – it seemed to tell us that if we did not live by nature’s rules, we would perish and be punished. The names of the points like furnace creek, funeral peak, deadman pass, ghost town and so on seems to validate this.
We stopped at a desolate looking Thai restaurant for lunch on our way to the airport. We were the only customers there at that time, and were given special attention by the waiter who cracked jokes at every opportunity that showed. We were not too bad ourselves, laughing our lungs out, pulling each others’ legs. Vegas looked striking from up above on that July 4th night, the already glittering city dotted with fireworks. Though nothing the city bewitched people with tempted me, there was a charm to it that I could not ignore. If I found this charm in my everyday life, I might not feel so bad every time I had to go back home after a trip.