Skip to main content

Over the Rim

In this episode – Over the Rim . . .



Early dawn breaks in Arizona; with both arms frantically flailing, I grab to catch my hat. An enormous blast of wind snatched it off my head in a split second. My well-worn "Indiana Jones" style fedora plummets end-over-end hundreds of feet over the rim of the Grand Canyon. Flabbergasted - the moment felt ageless, like a scene from an ole' western movie in slow motion, "Well, there's no way I'll find that hat again!"


Tenacity! photo by - Patrick Ball
We've just crested Ooh Aah Point on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon in northern Arizona. It's a cool crisp morning, and the wind whips through the canyon like a cyclone. You experience slight dizziness and are somewhat giddy from vertigo, afraid to get too close to the rim. The sheer drops plummet over 3,000 feet. But as time passes, you become accustomed to the wind and the comfort and security of the wide multipurpose trail.

Magically you're drawn into views of spires, buttes, mesas, and talus slopes from different vantage points along the mile-and-one-half trail to Yaki Point. Panoramic vistas of reds, oranges, gold, and sand against a turquoise blue sky with puffy white clouds.

"It seems a gigantic statement for even nature to make." John Muir.

Since the 1870s, visitors have flocked to the south rim on foot, horseback, wagons, and stagecoaches, by rail, automobiles, and busses. Grand Canyon National Park was established in 1919, only three years after the creation of the National Park Service. Today environmentally friendly shuttle buses transport you to trailheads, viewpoints, hotels, and architectural works of art.

If you're there for a few days, any conversation with the locals goes like this, "Most visitors today spend about two hours on average, then move on."


"I can relate to that; my first visit was no different."


While moving west to California in 1985, the three-day drive from Illinois took me across I-40. Approaching Williams, Arizona, the thought occurred: I'll detour north and see the Grand Canyon; why not? After about an hour of driving through flat desert scrub on Route 64, you begin to question your decision, "Where is this big hole in the ground anyway?" Finally, you arrive-breathtaking panoramic reds, oranges, and gold vistas against a clear blue sky. It's mid-afternoon, with the sun high in the sky, and the features are flat – but you've made the trip, so you're determined to take a few photos at the rim. Nothing extraordinary, proof you were there.


Twenty-six years later, grasping for your hat as it plummets over the rim, you calmly grin and experience the delight of re-discovery!


Here’s a tip; if you're looking for framable photos, spend the night, get out early, and experience how the morning shadows cause the light to dance through the canyon. It's spectacular!


Today's Thought for the Day; "The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced." - Aart van dee Leeuwa.


I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening; see you in the next episode.


Updated: March 9, 2023

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience , calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming for any reason. I saw more ...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...