Martha quietly pushed the last of her belongings into the back of the car and pushed the hatch shut, trying not to wake the neighbors. It was still dark, but an early start meant she could see the sunrise at the east of Zion, those smooth red mountains which went on forever. Maybe she would see the Big Horn Sheep again. She was now on a different sleep cycle, the time changes and crossing states, the virus which had finally subsided, these had her system all out of whack. While the bed she had created in her car was workable, comfortable was a-whole-nother issue. She started the car up and the radio blasted, volume up from the drive yesterday. She quickly
turned it off, the neighbors were sure to be awake now. Oh well, they kept that darn light, specially hooked up to it's own battery, burning bright half the night. She had to sleep with her airplane blinders, camping was supposed to be dark.
Martha drove slowly out of Zion, through the mile long tunnel, loving that there were no other cars on the road. She stopped right in the middle of the road to take pictures of the landscape, not even bothering to find a turnout. When she came close to the spot where she had seen the bighorns she slowed. Yes, there they were, the whole flock. Martha did find a turn out so that she could leave her car for these pictures, switching to the long lens. She was completely focused on taking pictures, watching the youngsters skip with ease across the sheer walls, when a crashing noise in the bushes, not five feet from her caused her to jump. A sheep, who did indeed have big horns crashed across the road. Glancing behind her she realized she was now in the middle of the flock, sheep on both sides of the road. Backing up quickly, not wanting to turn her back on them, she wondered if they ever chased people. Probably not, animals were shy, she needed to remember that. The sudden running of one sheep set off the whole group, and the young were heading back to be with their elders. One small guy sent a whole sheet of red slate crashing down off the hill into the creek bed below, but no one missed a step. Shivering, Martha decided she had plenty of photos and headed back to her car.
Morning is a good time to travel. No traffic on the road, take your time but make good progress. It wasn't long before Martha was at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Campground was full, but the ranger at the entry point said she should check in at the actual campground. Martha waited for a few minutes, a small hand printed sign said "back at 10:00". She looked at her watch, but didn't have any idea what time it really was. Was she still in Utah? Now in Arizona? The time changed every time she drove anywhere, some states followed Daylight Saving time, but others did not. Martha bent her knees up and down a little, stomping her feet, trying to keep warm. Very cold here compared to Zion. No one returned to Martha decided to drive to the visitor center and see the canyon.
Following the map she had picked up at the small visitor center, Martha made her way around the lodge looking for Bright Angel Trail. She should read those books again, Marguerite Henry. How she loved those tales. Martha stepped out on an overlook, staring down into the canyon. She snapped a few photos, then headed off down the trail. It was fairly steep, but paved over the gravel. The earth fell away on both sides, and Martha gazed here and there. Suddenly she was out of breath, her heart was pounding and she felt light headed. There was a boulder near the edge of the trail and Martha sat down. Her breathing was rapid, as if awakening from a frightening dream. She sat for several minutes and then felt better. Standing she set off down the trail. The sign had said .25 miles, just a short trip to the overlook.
Martha made it to the overlook, but the feeling of breathlessness returned. She quickly snapped a couple of pictures then stepped away, sitting on a rock bench which did not provide a look down. She faced away from the edge, fidgeting with her camera, hiding her fear from the other hikers and tourists. After a minute she felt the overwhelming need to be out of this place. She started back up the trail. It was steep and she was immediately out of breath. Hikers coming down expected her to move to the right, the trail was wide enough for two to pass easily, but the edge was on the right. When Martha saw others coming she would quickly step off to the left, inspecting a tree or a rock, shooting a close up picture of nothing. After several minutes of this Martha could see she was near the top. The trail was wider and there was land on either side, not the steep drop offs. In spite of this the vertigo became overwhelming. Martha quickly sat on a bench, next to a woman already sitting there, her breath now coming in ragged gasps. She put her head down between her knees. Her breath didn't slow and her heart seemed to pound even harder, her head spinning.
Martha didn't care what anyone thought, panic filling every pour of her body she flung herself to the ground, stretching out flat, pressing her stomach on the pavement covered path. She stretched her arms out to the sides, as if to hold herself to the earth, keep the awful power surrounding her from sucking her over the edge, pulling her down into oblivion.
The woman seated on the bench didn't say a word.
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