I notice from my logs that the visitors at my blog went from around 100 a day to 1587 yesterday. I am guessing that most of the newcomers are not friends & family. You were probably drawn here by the notoriety of my comments re FS assignments in Iraq.
My blog is not designed for a general public, but I certainly welcome anybody who wants to read it. Most of what and how I write is idiosyncratic and probably interesting only to those who know me. I don’t expect you will again find anything nearly as controversial as the posting that drew you here. It was very interesting to see blog posts about what I had written. My sad conclusion is that many bloggers (Certainly not all. Some were good) write before they read. Some are almost embarassingly supportive; others are critical and some are just stupid. I guess it is easier to have an opinion than seek accuracy.
Anyway, even in an interesting place like Iraq, I tend to think prosaic thoughts, so if you are looking for excitement you probably came to the wrong place. You are welcome to stay, but I won’t be put out if you don’t.
Sorry to post twice in one day, but I just finished reading this article.
To my vexed and overwrought colleagues, I say take a deep breath and calm down. I personally dislike the whole idea of forced assignments, but we do have to do our jobs. We signed up to be worldwide available. All of us volunteered for this kind of work and we have enjoyed a pretty sweet lifestyle most of our careers.
I will not repeat what the Marines say when I bring up this subject. I tell them that most FSOs are not wimps and weenies, but I am ashamed of my crybaby colleagues. I will not share this article with them and I hope they do not see it. How could I explain this? Calling Iraq a death sentence is just way over the top. I volunteered to come here aware of the risks but confident that I will come safely home, as do the vast majority of soldiers and Marines, who have a lot riskier jobs than we FSOs do.
I wrote a post a couple days ago where I said that perhaps everyone’s talents are not best employed in Iraq. That is still true. But I find the sentiments expressed by some colleagues in the article deeply offensive. What are they implying about me and my choice? If they do not want to come, that is okay. Personally, I would not want that sort out here with me anyway. BUT they are not worldwide available and they might consider the type of job that does not require worldwide availability.
We all know that few FSOs will REALLY be forced to come to Iraq anyway. Our system really does not work like that. This sound and fury at Foggy Bottom truly signifies nothing. Get over it! I do not think many people feel sorry for us and it is embarrassing for people with our privileges to wrap ourselves in the cloak of victimhood.
We all know that the FS will step up. Most of us want to do our duty. We should not let ourselves be judged by the fools who cry at town hall meetings.
I woke up this morning with no way to hold my body that didn’t hurt. Hiking from the rim of the Grand Canyon to the Colorado River at the bottom and back in one day is not easy. The National Park Service warns you. Their brochures and webpages threaten dire consequences for those foolish enough to make the attempt. Men between the ages of 18 and 40 are the target audience for the campaign. Members of this benighted crowd, evidently high on testosterone and overconfident of their strength, try to do too much. The ads say that most of the people the rangers rescue are young men, and they curse the day and hold their manhood cheap whenever anyone speaks of it. Since I passed the upper limit of the group more than eight years ago, I wasn’t worried, but I have to admit it was a tough trip.
The biggest challenge is the heat. It was 117 degrees on the canyon floor. The sun fixes its blank and pitiless gaze on the canyon from about 5:30 am until 7:00 pm and heats up the rocks so that they radiate heat like a rotisserie grill. During most of the day there is almost no shade anywhere. You literally cannot drink enough water to prevent dehydration if you move around in the sun between about 10 and 3:00, since your body can absorb only a liter of water an hour and you can easily sweat out two liters. If I ever do this again, it will not be in the middle of summer. The payoff is truly breathtaking scenery. The pictures I included do not do it justice. No pictures I have ever seen can capture the true majesty, but I do suggest you consult a site that features taken by professionals with more skill and better equipment.
I went down with my brother in law Alex Sandoval and one of his neighbors named Bob. Bob is an eagle scout who had experience walking up and down the canyon. Although he was only about sixteen years old, the kid was our guide. Both Alex and Bob are young, in excellent condition and are indigenous to this hot, dry climate. I was outclassed. As the kid ranged effortlessly ahead, I kept on thinking, for reasons I can’t explain, of Yoda and said to myself, “Wonder whether you this good will look when you my age are.” It didn’t make me feel any better when he complimented me on being so old and still able to walk relatively well – not in exactly those words of course, but it is like complimenting an old lady by telling her that she must have been very good looking when she was younger.
We started down the South Kaibab trail at 5:30 when the temperature was still pleasant. It only took us about 3 ½ hours to get to the bottom. The kid set a grueling pace. We passed many people along the trail. Some carried what looked like ski poles. It was a good idea, takes some pressure off the knees and generally improves balance. I have included pictures from the trip down. There were many breathtaking views, but my pictures insufficient to express them. At the bottom there is not much to do except lay in the cool streams. This pleasure is not to be underestimated, but you can only do it so long, especially because the sun is high and hot. We finally hunkered down in a shelter probably build by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. The CCC boys did a good job. We stayed there, protected from the worst of the sun until about 3:00. Then we started up the hill on the Bright Angel trail.
Bright Angel is very beautiful but I would have enjoyed it more if it had not been so hot. If it is 117 in the shade, the ranger told us that is probably 130 in the sun. The hot rocks actually destroyed my shoes. They were old and I would have thought it was just their age, but Alex’s shoes also came apart and the ranger told us that part of her shoe gave out. Anyway, the bottom came off my right shoe. I had to put a sock over it to keep shoe and sole together. This expedient worked until almost the end of the hike. It is a very tough hike. The Grand Canyon is like a reverse mountain – first you go down and only then – when you are tired out – you do up. Bright Angel follows a little stream much of the time. We dunked ourselves on several occasions to stay cool. About halfway up the hill, you come to “Indian Garden,” an oasis of cottonwood trees. It is very pleasant and there is drinkable water. We got there about 5:00 and for the first time the walls of the canyon shaded out the sun in many places. I would have liked to stay in this little paradise, but it was still 4 ½ miles to the top with an elevation gain of more than 3000 feet. The last three miles were the hardest. Up and up, more up and up again. My enthusiasm was waning, but I kept on putting one foot in front of the other. It was a perdition highway with about fifty lost souls slogging up the hill at the end of their day. Of course, I felt more virtuous than most, since we had hiked all the way down and back. Most day-trippers hike down to Indian Gardens and back only. Logs designed to limit erosion on the trail are placed just a little too far apart to allow you to step from one to another. Between are potholes, so you are always stepping up and down and unable to get a decent rhythm. My shoe fell apart just before I got to the rim. The flapping of my shoe attracted attention and made it harder to walk. Finally, I just cut the bottom clean off and walked on the foam.
Well, it is a tough job but somebody has to do it. I would not have made it if it had not been for Alex. He made sure we brought enough water and salty snacks, and he understood that we had to rest as well as walk. Yesterday at about 7:00 I would have paid a thousand dollars for someone to drive me to the top and I promised myself I would never get into a situation like that again. Now sitting in air-conditioned comfort, I now look forward to my next hike.
My foot over the canyon before going in.
That old buzzard knows that he can wait. I didn’t think it was nice of the ugly thing to wait for me to desiccate and die like a dog on the rocks below. The ranger said that they were California condors (buzzard is a politically incorrect term). The California condor is an endangered species. These particular ones were introduced into the canyon a couple of years ago. They are now well established, but still not breeding.
This is us the morning of the hike, before we were dried out.
My colleagues have already walked ahead of me. It is hard to see them along this trail, but I have circled them in red.
This is a nice vista. The colors are much better than the picture.
Our first look at the Colorado River far below
Everything that comes in and out of the canyon comes on mules. The perspective is bad on this picture. The mules are about 100 meters below me on the vertical axis. The picture makes it look like they are just far away horizontally.
Brook at the bottom of the canyon. It was cool and fresh.
The blue hoods are kept wet all the time. They really help keep your head and neck cool. Alex and my shoes are giving out as you can see from the picture. We have bandaged them. In the background is the Colorado River that created the canyon.
We spent a couple of hours hunkered down in a cool shelter. Only lizards and snakes can move around in the noonday sun. Soon after this picture was taken, a lizard crawled across Alex’s head. The CCC or the WPA probably built the shelter during the great depression. Thank God for those guys. They built to last. That was the golden age of parks and forests. I like the idea that parks are for people, but that facilities should be simple and Spartan.
Looking back halfway up the hill
This is Indian Garden, a desert oasis still 4 ½ miles and 3000 vertical feet from the rim.
Not much energy left in me. It doesn’t look like I am walking up hill on the picture and it is not the steepest part, but look at how the landscape drops off behind.
