Then the argument started. I was all for heading off there and then, before anything worse happened, and to hell with the warnings. I didn’t want a repeat of Monument Valley where we ran out of time. Besides that, we were booked into the Bright Angel Lodge that night. JoAnn was dead against it, telling me that she could ‘feel’ the tornado in the air. Not me though. The television reporters were dishing out warning after warning for our area, and then we compromised. I agreed to get a disk for the camera, and that would take less than an hour, and surely all would be ok by then. We headed for Wal-Mart. Though she denies this, I believe that JoAnn deliberately got us lost, despite my GPS directions. After almost two hours of shopping, we were again heading north, this time with me doing the driving, and of course we didn’t bother listening to the radio for weather updates.
The sky got darker and darker. We were also climbing rapidly into the mountains, and I could see the temperature falling with each mile we drove. Suddenly a huge flash of lightning struck the trees on our left only a short distance into the forest. Then it really began to storm. More lightning began flashing and striking all around us, and it seemed to be getting closer, so much so that poor JoAnn became concerned that we might be struck and completely annihilated. I assured her in my best ‘science voice’ that we were in a ‘Faraday Cage’ and perfectly safe from lightning, but I secretly wondered about falling trees.
The number of cars approaching us soon dwindled down to a trickle, and finally stopped all together. The only cars then on the road were ourselves and a big four by four jeep travelling just behind us, with possibly a family inside it. Like us, I believe they were on the way to the Canyon also, and the driver was now tailgating me, much to my annoyance and growing concern.
Almost too suddenly it became as dark as night. I had the lights on full when the sheets of rain turned to sleet, then to hail, and then to snow, all within minutes. By then we were driving through a big forest, and we started to notice that trees had just been torn up from the ground, and there were freshly mangled limbs strewn all over the roadside.
In shock and amazement I braked hard and had my first skid, as the road had become both a skating rink and an obstacle course. At that point even I became scared, and began looking for someplace to pull off the road before we slid off, possibly into a deep ravine. It was almost impossible to see anything though, and I was afraid my tailgater would run right into me if I slammed on the brakes again. Our situation was fast becoming very serious. I think the jeep driver must have somehow believed that if a tiny car like ours could drive in this weather, surely so could his jeep. Through the blizzard I spotted a kind of lay-by up ahead, just as another huge fork of lightning struck close by. Our car veered into the lay-by, and we slid to a halt in among the trees. I was very relieved. The jeep sped on past us, and my tornado woman announced, “That’s a very stupid thing to do. He has no clue at all. We may well find him up the road in the ditch,” prophetic words indeed.
The storm moved on to the north, and after about ten minutes we headed off again. As we rounded the first bend, and literally a hundred yards from where we had stopped, we saw the first of the many big trees almost blocking the road. I swerved to avoid a smash, and in panic slowed to a crawl on the ice and the snow. The destruction in the forest was like nothing I had ever seen in my life. Just feet in from the road, and spread along the roadside, were huge trees, twisted and broken like matchsticks. It was a kind of random destruction. A clump of trees here and there were totally destroyed, then a foot or two away, there was no sign of damage. Without realizing it, I had been driving us inside, or very close to the edge of one of the worst tornados ever seen in the area. I saw our exact tornado later on You Tube, and became mesmerized at how near we had been, through my ignorance, to tragedy. Only minutes had separated us from who knows what. JoAnn still says it was the act of a mad man, so at least I was keeping that tradition alive.
About half a mile down the road we saw the jeep. It was turned upside down and lying on its roof inside in a field. As we passed by we could see no one in it, but all their belongings were strewn all over the road and a police car was just arriving at the spot. JoAnn had been right after all, and I felt so thankful for our safety. My dream trip had almost cost us our lives. If we had not pulled over, we would have been that family in the jeep, and I still wonder what became of them.
Having survived our ordeal, once again I felt sure that we were being protected by a power beyond us. With that comfort in mind, I drove on in bright sunshine to the Grand Canyon. One of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World was awaiting our arrival.
Miracles we are….
It took some considerable time to reach the Grand Canyon Village and the South Rim Visitors Centre. We spent time inside and got to know the ideal way to see this wonder of nature. The whole viewing experience is top class and designed for the visitor to see this awe inspiring place at its best. The thing I liked most was the free bus transport to every possible viewing point. You parked your car and took the shuttles everywhere after that.
I will never forget us walking through the little trees and shrubs as we headed for the rim, full of expectation, but nothing can prepare you for that first sight. When at last we came through to the rim, I froze in awe. It was the most breathtaking sight I know I will ever see for the rest of my life. We stood and stared in amazement and silence. Both of us became overwhelmed by the grandeur and spectacle, and I said, “No matter who we tell about this, or what photos we take, nothing will ever be able to do it justice”. JoAnn agreed. It would be a total nonsense for me to try and describe what we were looking at. It has to be personally seen to be experienced fully, and that is the truth. I think my mind simply could not take in the sheer size of the valley laid out before us. This canyon had a myriad of rock formations constantly changing colour before one’s eyes. Everyone around us seemed to be feeling the same awe. We stood transfixed, looking down for a mile into the brown Colorado River. Then as if to welcome us again, a most beautiful rainbow formed right before our very eyes. People pointed and clicked a thousand cameras. To add to the magic of that moment, an eagle with huge wings outstretched glided gracefully into the canyon, bringing gasps of excitement from all those who saw it.
The Bright Angel Lodge is located further along the rim, and we finally checked in and got our chalet. It was wonderful; a log cabin situated on the rim of the Grandest Canyon in the world. It is beautifully decorated, spartan and old, but just wonderful all the same. We were in Heaven and we were so happy. We returned to the Bright Angel and had a most wonderful meal. We also bought books, souvenirs and a DVD called The National Parks, America’s best kept secret by Ken Burns, my favourite director. I had been looking for that DVD forever, and just knew it would be there. The evening was closing in and everyone wanted to see the sunset change the canyon into a million different colours, including us, and we were not disappointed. We travelled along the rim until we could see no more, and then arrived back to the little train station which took people to and from the town of Williams. I had wanted to travel on that train to the Canyon, but changed my mind later as we had the hired car. Another time perhaps. Thousands and thousands of people from every nation on Earth were visiting that beautiful place, and many of them were travelling in style on that train. Thousands more came by bus and by car, and even by helicopter. JoAnn walked and walked, and here we got the first sign that her foot may finally be getting better. We loved the place. Our senses went into overdrive at each new viewing point, and after the day closed and we lay in bed chatting, we came to the conclusion that the only thing left was to see the dawn come up over the rim in the morning. It had been one of the most exciting and exhilarating days of my life, and sleep overpowered us. I clearly remember thinking just before I succumbed to the blackness that, ‘we are sleeping on the rim of the Grand Canyon. I hope I don’t sleep walk tonight’. Then darkness fell both physically and mentally. I cuddled up to my wife and told her I loved her, but she was
already in dreamland.
JoAnn dragged me reluctantly from the bed before five a.m. because we had planned a complete series of viewings, chasing the sun as it travelled across the Canyon. With coffee in hand we made off into the stinging cold Arizona air and saw the dawn break. Hours went by, and at each new spot I thought I had seen the best I could see, but it was as if the place was taunting me with its beauty, challenging me to mentally judge the infinitely beautiful, a task I finally gave up on. By day’s end we had both concluded that our minds were numbed with the sheer beauty of it all. My favourite viewing place was Powell Point. There I ventured so close to the edge that JoAnn could not hold our camera steady because she was so scared that I might fall over the edge. As if to taunt her, I sat on the edge and dangled my legs over the rim. Then later on I stood on the edge and winged my hands out like a human bird.
I could see for hundreds of miles, but I wished we were way down below, drifting along on the Colorado River in a canoe in the sunshine. JoAnn finally became enraged with my antics and threatened all kinds of punishment if I didn’t come back from the rim, and in the end I did. But the memory of that sheer drop is burned into my mind forever more. I doubt if we will ever see a more beautiful place on this Earth, but for all its beauty, I did not feel called to it spiritually like had happened to me in Monument Valley. There was no sense of sadness either as we left and headed for the town of Williams, our next stop.
The town of Williams is located right on old Route 66. It was the staging point for the Canyon for all those tourists en route to California on that famous road. My purpose in going there was to authenticate the drawing I had made years earlier in my dream journal by having us stand on the train station platform, and have our picture taken in front of a choo choo train.
By the time we arrived into Williams, evening was fast approaching and the sky had once more become a multicoloured spectacle, changing minute by minute. We rushed to the station and had our photo taken in the last rays of the sun. JoAnn snapped my picture as I pointed up to the Williams sign, and I felt wonderful. This photo was just another proof that the journal had worked. Night fell and we drove around the town just like the tourists had done in the fifties and sixties. All that was missing was our red Corvette. The people of Williams are very proud of their 66 heritage, and virtually every shop had some connection to the famous road. The neon signs and artwork adorned the shops and cafes, and it was so easy to feel that we had gone back in time. That night we slept once more in a Route 66 motel, this time without the groupies or the pool tables.
The next day we headed back for Flagstaff, and by then we were truly on the return leg of our trip, but there was still one more wonder to see.
When I was mapping our trip months earlier, I felt that the icing on the cake for me would be a visit to the Meteor Crater. It would be a huge bonus if we could manage it, and on the second last day we felt that we still had time for one more visit before we returned our car. We drove east, heading for Winona and Wilmslow, both towns made famous by songs of Route 66, and the Eagles’ song about standing on the corner. Pretty soon JoAnn turned off the highway, and we crossed the desolation to Meteor Crater in beautiful sunshine. It was our last day in Arizona and the only one that we didn’t have a thunderstorm. Meteor Crater was formed when a small meteorite hit this remote area fifty thousand years ago, and it obliterated the whole place. The Crater is an amazing sight. I loved being there because when I was a young boy in Buttevant, I had read all about it in Uncle Michael’s little encyclopaedia, and wondered if I might ever see it one day. Today was that day. It’s a great facility and well worth a visit. They have a museum there, and while JoAnn studied inside, I got to walk on the outside with a guided tour and take many amazing pictures. It truly was the icing on the cake for me on the trip. Now all that was left was for us to be sure to wake in time for our early morning train and begin the journey back to Missouri, but the day was young yet and Flagstaff nightlife was calling me.
We dropped off our hired car at the local airport and got a taxi back to our original motel, famous for Navaho groupies, and the new ball game known as ‘Irish pool’. Then we headed out on the Flagstaff town. At the bus stop we were joined by two ‘down and outs’ who helped me figure out the local bus timetable. Quite early on they told me of the amazing news that a dollar bus ticket got you almost anywhere in Flagstaff. It was no wonder I loved the place. During our chat, the more talkative one was amazed that I was a genuine Irishman, and he proudly informed me that he too had Irish blood in him, due to his red hair and red beard, but I saw no red in either of them. As if to banish my obvious scepticism, he told us that his people had all come over from ‘Liverpool in Ireland’ many years earlier, and settled in Arizona. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Liverpool was in England, and so we chatted away until the bus finally arrived. Sure enough one dollar did get you right into the centre of town, and as we were parting, ‘Redbeard’ gave me this parting advice, “I hope ye have a wild night in the pubs. You know what us Irish are like with the drink,” and with a wave of his hand, he and his silent friend disappeared down an alleyway.
We did end up in an Irish bar that night, but the only wild thing that happened was my shock at the size of our bill for the food. Next morning at five a.m. a taxi took us to Flagstaff train station, and by five forty we were on board the South West Chief, saying good bye to Arizona. I was too tired to be sad, and by some mix up our pre-booked sleeper car had been given out to someone else. We sat in the dark while our room was being cleaned, and saw the sun come up over the western desert for one last time. JoAnn just loved it all, as did I. Eventually our room was ready, complete with refreshments and privacy. Included in the deal were all of our meals, which turned out to be amazing. We were crossing America on a journey that would take over twenty three hours, travelling thousands of miles and stopping only once in Albuquerque, New Mexico. We met some wonderful people at meal times and became mini celebrities. Everyone seemed to be curious about ‘our story’ and how we had met. Some came right out and asked, and some hinted around it, but all were even more curious about Ireland. I’m happy to say that I did my bit for our Irish tourist industry, and I welcomed everyone to Ireland, as did JoAnn.
During the evening meal, a discussion began at our table about the power of the media and how it can influence our lives. This became so vociferous that soon we were righting all the wrongs of the world, and saving the oil for future generations to come. It did not take long for those at the tables nearby to join in, and before long almost half of the dining car was in high spirits. Even the concierge, a huge African American, had become infected, and he became quite friendly. This was in contrast to his earlier five a.m. manner when he commanded us all to, “Sit down together and shut up complaining”, breakfast would arrive when he was good and ready. I told those others at our table then that my aim was to wear him down with kindness before the journey ended, and by eight p.m. that evening he was a changed man. It’s possible that my little financial token of appreciation given to him at the Albuquerque stopover may have helped, but that night those at our table all had prime rib and his personal service with a broad smile, while the less fortunate may have been told their steaks were all gone. Big Kyrl’s mantra of ‘the end always justifies the means’ was proven correct once again. Later on in the evening, as the staff were encouraging the listening people of our dining car to leave, the man in command went to great pains to assure our group that there was ‘no rush’, and ‘did we need any more of anything?’ Kindness had won out in the end.
It was late when we all said good bye, and we retired to our beds. I had the top bunk and felt claustrophobic, falling asleep eventually, but JoAnn was so enthralled and excited by her experience that she didn’t sleep at all, and kept looking out at the cities and towns of her homeland as they rushed by in the dark. In the early morning we arrived into Kansas City. Confused by the time zones, and having got no warning from our concierge, we almost stayed on the
train and would have ended in Chicago. Perhaps he was planning on another financial incentive at the Kansas City stopover, but we never saw him again.
We spent a day exploring Kansas City, and around four p.m. I heard for the last time that famous train call, “Board, all aboard”. We were then just hours away from our family and home in Missouri. The train travelled along a track running parallel to the mighty Missouri River, and as darkness fell, I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep. Hours later our Amtrak train pulled into the Washington Missouri station where we were excitedly greeted by JoAnn’s daughter Jessica, and our granddaughter, Paige. With the bags quickly stowed away, we headed for home, with me in the front, and JoAnn and Paige in the back. Paige soon fell sound asleep, and after an initial burst of talk, it soon subsided.
We turned south onto I44, a road that parallels the old Route 66, and in my mind I began to relive our amazing trip. But after days and days of fulfilled dreams and miracles of all kinds, I was totally exhausted and drifted into a kind of strange trancelike state, neither awake nor asleep. In the distance I could still hear the soft southern accents, and I felt comfortable and safe with Jessica doing the driving.
JoAnn was asking Jessica if there was any news from home. Then I heard her say, “Well, Grandpa Earl is not doing so good”.
“What’s wrong with my dad?” concern immediately apparent in JoAnn’s voice. “They don’t know yet. He has to go into hospital next week for some tests”. That news unnerved me, and in my half state of consciousness, I began to go back in time to my first meeting with JoAnn’s father.
I remembered how this ex Deputy Sheriff had cautiously, but warmly welcomed me into his home many years earlier. How he took such pride in showing me all of his guns, especially a gun that he had handmade. Some friend of his had argued that a gun could not be made from bits and pieces found around the house, and Earl took up the challenge as a bet with him, and he won that bet.
Two Walls and a Roof Page 43
