Journey's End

Cousin Betty

Saying goodbye to the family makes me feel melancholy.  At least they left piecemeal instead of en mass.  Several of us were staying around for a day or two and Cousin Ed from Indiana persuaded us to head for Canyon Lake out past Apache Junction.  After chauffeuring those leaving for home to the airport we negotiated some beautiful roads to reach the lake.  It was tucked into deep canyons a few miles beyond the easternmost edge of Phoenix.  A dozen of us clambered aboard a rented pontoon, armed with snacks, drinks, suntan oil, cameras, and hats.

Rumor had it if we were lucky we would spot some wild sheep, although it seemed a remote possibility.  How anything could survive on these rocks, I could not fathom.  Even the scattered saguaros, perched on minute ledges, seemed to be breaking through solid rock.

At first glance the lake like a large pond surrounded by rock walls reaching hundreds of feet straight up.  Cruising along the edge, we eventually found the opening between the sheer precipices facing each other on every side.  It was disconcerting and it happened time and time again throughout the two-hour ride.  Just as we were about to run into rock walls, a whole new section of lake opened up magically before us.  Reminiscent of the invisible staircase Indy faced in The Last Crusade, the landscape made me feel like I was in a place where anything could happen.

A few miles in we saw the sheep.  Scrambling up miniscule ledges on the rock face with ease, they held our attention for a spell and we snapped photos like crazed tourists.  The weather being perfect, the scenery otherworldly, the company good, the snacks tasty and the drinks cold, we had an altogether enjoyable time with everyone in our little party..

For some reason, being on the water always seems to increase the appetite.  We continued on down the winding road toward Tortilla Flats where, Paul and I assured the others, a great restaurant experience awaited. We had been around for two weeks so we were experts.  And we were right. We had a boisterous time of it and the food was great.

With Cousin Joe on Canyon Lake

My cousin Joe told us when he first arrived in Arizona, he was dismayed to see nothing but desert out the plane windows.  Turns out he landed at the wrong airport.  On this day, however, we were glad he had; it meant a few more hours of fun together.  Mesa was close to the lake and we delivered him to the airport entrance on our way back to the city.

Phoenix, at 517 square miles in land area, is one of the biggest cities, geographically, in the country.  It took an hour to get from one side to the other, using the four-lane bypass at 70mph.  By the time we congregated with the remnants of family still in town it was close to sundown.  We met at Byler's Amish Kitchen, owned by the local cousins.  The food was great and the company even better.

I spent my last day in AZ breaking myself gradually from vacation mode.  Laundry has to be done eventually and I have an aversion to packing dirty clothes.  Happily there was also time to read by the pool, soak in the pool, and do nothing by the pool.  Well, I did say, gradually.

Paul took advantage of the chance to quad up the mountain with Cousin Lydia and husband John.  After the third or fourth time he told me I "would have LOVED it!"  I requested he tell me about his day without uttering that sentence again.  Ok, so I was a hair jealous.  They had invited me but I'm one of those people who eventually starts to hyperventilate if I don't get any down-time.  I'm also one of those people that hates missing out on the fun.  And, the melancholia was threatening to come back with the flight home looming on tomorrow's horizon.

I'm not a big fan of air travel.  It's a great way to get somewhere fast but I don't like being trapped with a lot of strangers in a place where open windows are impossible.  This trip, though, I had no reason to complain.  None of my flights were cancelled.  My seatmates on the window side, both coming and going, slept soundly most of the way.  The crying babies were so far away I could barely hear them.  The turbulence was minimal.  And I had Paul on the aisle side to patiently let me out whenever I felt the need to visit the two-foot-square cubicle mistakenly referred to as a restroom.  I could probably do a whole blog on airplane lavatories.  I will resist.

A flight plan that left Cleveland around 9 AM and landed in Phoenix several hours before lunch was not as kind on the return trip.  We left Phoenix around 11AM and after arriving in Cleveland we stopped to eat supper.  It was dark before we got home.  Flying east makes time disappear.  My blue mood had disappeared as well.

Yes, I was back in cold, windy, rainy, Ohio.  But so were two seven-year-old granddaughters with the best hugs around.  And two tiny grandbabies I just recently met.  It's amazing how much six-week-old infants change in two weeks.  Instead of blank stares aimed somewhere over my shoulders, the babies looked me in the eyes, smiled, and even treated me with a coo or two.  Eternal sunshine and warm breezes don't have a chance when put up against the drawing power of sweet little faces waiting for kisses.