Saturday November 7, 2009
Lady of the Canyon
President Obama and his family visited it, so did we.
My family and I have visited the Grand Canyon in the United States a few times in the past few years so far, and again in December 2008.
As always, the year-end holidays would find us travelling to some distant country, not only to see new places but also to experience a change of climate!
Landing in Los Angeles, we would drive to places beyond the well-trodden paths of the usual tourist itineraries, far from the madding crowd.
Driving interstate from California to Nevada and Arizona, we stopped wherever we fancied. We enjoyed stopping at the Hoover Dam, glittering Las Vegas, looking at the deserts, great conifers, snow, moose and, of course, the Grand Canyon.
Like all good tourists, we had always marvelled at the gigantic chasm that stretched as far as our eyes could see — orangey-red at times, paler at others, depending on the weather and angle of the sun — braving the chilly, sometimes freezing weather under a deceivingly azure sky.
Like the Obamas, we too had admired the Canyon from Hopi Point as well as Mather Point, Maricopa Point and other “strategic” look-out points.
Visitors gawked at the unimaginable beauty of the immense Canyon — the miles of even flatness of the plateau, the changing colours of the sheer cliffs plunging vertically down into the unknown, the mystical shadows far down below in the valleys and sometimes the meandering of the mighty Colorado perceived only as a tiny blue worm from certain elevations.
Standing there looking at the immense, timeless chasm, I felt very small, humbled.
There was just one more thing that we wanted to do on this trip to the Grand Canyon — watch the sunrise! So everyone in our group made a determined effort to wake up before dawn the next morning.
We left our motel at Williams (our base) and drove to the south entrance of the Grand Canyon. The darkness was beginning to evaporate although it was only about 5am. The hour-long drive soon found us gleefully hopping out of our minivan and rushing to our designated look-out to witness the sunrise.
The six of us stood shivering, gazing out to the east as daylight broke. One part of the vast dark horizon began to glow, then gleam with a brightness which seemed to sparkle against the fast fading darkness around it.
Within a few seconds the eastern horizon was aglow with hues of pink and orange. All six of us stood enthralled, too mesmerised to speak. I thought we were the luckiest people then, with the whole place to ourselves, undisturbed, watching the spectacular sunrise! We forgot the cold as the sun rose higher and the whole canyon unfolded before us.
No one spoke until a sudden gust of cold wind took a swipe at us and broke the spell. Pulling our jumpers tight around us, we dragged our faces away from the rising sun and grinned at one another.
As if in synchronised thought, we turned reluctantly away from our spot at the edge of the Canyon, cold but elated.
If before we had been shivering with cold while watching the sunrise at 7,000ft (2,134m), now we froze — for right in front of us was a vision in white! It was seated and blended into the rock facing the rising sun. It had escaped our notice as we were all intent on looking at the horizon, too immersed in nature’s miracle! Was it real? I was almost shocked into immobility!
Since when had it appeared? Had it been there all night? My first stunned impression was that of a tanned, elderly little lady with her white sari wound over her head. The fabric was thin and she was not even wearing a jacket, whereas the rest of us were well-padded but still shivering with cold whenever the wind blew. She was unperturbed, and seemed totally unaware of our presence. At first glance she seemed to be part of the rock, a “formation” staring into the emptiness as if in a peaceful trance.
Who was she? How did she get there? What was she doing there alone? Manners prevented us from staring at her, so after some hesitation, we respectfully removed ourselves from the scene and picked our way up the cold rocky steps to our van.
To this day, I have never forgotten that old woman sitting in the rock-face, “watching” dawn break. In retrospect — was it an old woman or an elderly man? Or could that have been an old tribal Indian meditating with the gods of the Canyon? None of us knew the answer, but we did know one thing, it was clearly another mystery of the Grand Canyon! Luckily all of us saw her/him — or else I would have thought that I was hallucinating!
S. K. Pee, Johor
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