It’s getting late but Leigh wants to see the petroglyphs lurking somewhere down a long hiking path. Nobody can tell us exactly where they are, which doesn’t comfort me much. It’s getting late. We hike along a narrow path that again drops several thousand feet. The scenery is gorgeous as you look out across the canyon at the rock cliffs, and out across the valley to the imposing, jagged mountains in the distance. We climb through narrow rock passageways, down both natural and man-made stone steps. Pinon and Utah pines are beside you, below you and above you. Turkey buzzards and hawks soar overhead and alongside you, all in total silence. I think about The Bird Songs in the book. I stop to get some paper shots. Two hawks are in a dead tree that leans out over the canyon below. The sun has just set and the tree and hawks are in silhouette. It’s the epitome of stark beauty, the tree stripped to its skeletal form, the hawks are ebony grace. They take off and I lean out over the edge to get the angle I want and start shooting. They swoop a couple times then take off. I have the feeling they’re in a tree at the top of the canyon waiting for the idiot with the camera to fall over the edge and they can have supper. “Come on guys! The entre for tonight? Another Easterner! They’re dumb but tasty.” I catch up with Leigh and beg her to turn around. She continues on, searching for the petroglyphs. It’s 6 p.m. and we have a half hour walk back. The park closes at 6:30. Finally she agrees. A man suddenly appears behind us, walking fast and carrying a camera. He’s from Sweden. “Did you find the petroglyphs?” Leigh asks. “Yes, they were quite far down,” he says. “How were they?” “He shrugs. “Not that good. Actually the scenery was much better than the writing on the rocks.” We get back to our car just as the park closes. We drive down the mountain, stop along the road and find a motel in the tour book. Leigh reserves a room with the cell phone and we head to Cortez seven miles down the road. We eat in a really nice Mexican restaurant. Our motel room is small but serviceable and clean. Not sure where we’re going tomorrow.
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