Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1934-07-27
"a TRIP TO
CALIFORNIA"

Mexico stretch and spread into the
wasteland of Arizona until the great
peaked mountains rise again. These
are the forest lands Of Arizona
high, perfectly shaped Christmas
trees pointing up and covering the
sweep of the mountains. In the
wasteland there is the Painted Des-
ert-from a tall ridge farther than
one can see, sleep the crusted mound
hills in a plain of color, dull color of
red brown, brown pink, and pale
mist blue and green. Near this Des-
ert is the Petrifed Forest-not really,
of course, a standing forest of stone
trees, but miles of land covered by
the pieces of trunks of fallen trees
that grew a million years ago, were
petrifed by weight through the cen
turtles, and finally were uncovered
again by the wind and the weather,
And Grand Canyon! Everyone
had said to me, "Of course, you will
go to Grand Canyonl My dear, l
remember it as the greatest thrill of
my life"-until l had begun to doubt
the sincerity of such universal en-
thusiasm. l had about decided that
it came of the habit people fall into
quite naturally of being thrilled when
they feel it is expected, and custom
airy to be thrilled by a given thing.
Yet when stood on the brink of that
stretching abyss, felt that no mag
nation could conjure up such a near
ness to the essence of absolute beau
ty. 1t was not the sight of that wide
panorama of peaks and minarets, pin
acles and towers, glowing lights and
soft storm shadows, nor the depth
of it to where the Colorado river is
miniature streak of silver, not the
warm changing color of it, nor the
exuded blue haze everywhere that
blends it with the sky, but rather it
was the inner vibration, the silent
self-knowledge of those things ex-
pressed by the quiet glowing patience
of it that made my soul stretch out
beyond material beauty where the
mind knows nothing and is nothing.
The next morning as walked upon
the height of its cliffs, the glory of
it whirled up around me like the wind
in my hair. and l will remember that
all beauty is expressed there-beauty
of ruggedness, of strength, movement,
color, curve, gentleness, peace, SYM
pathy and cruelty too.
We almost had tragedy at Grand
Canyonl We had been driving along
the rim of it and had stopped the car
to get out and look over the edge.
Suddenly | heard Felicia exclaim and
turned to see that the car was drift
ing calmly and rapidly toward the
brink of the Canyon. All three of
US started running wildly after it not
gaining any too much. Finally I got
the door open, made a leap, all but
fell off the running board, and got
my foot on the brake just too late to
be acclaimed a heroine since a
thoughtful bush did the work of stop
ping the moving wheels for me. That's
Fate, of course!
By noon on saturday we were
winding through bare black pointed
mountains that were like piles of dirt
dumped by some great steam shovel.
A binding parched heat pushed up
around us. l began to have some
realization of what desert thirst re-
ally is. And in spite of how you i'm
agine it, you can't know until you
actually experience that Unsuitable
desire for water, the feeling that your
tongue is swollen and sticky. We
tried to sleep at Needles. California
on the border of the desert the hot
test city in America (and l agreeI)
but the temperature was 1872 degrees.
Heat in the night seemed to roll
md fall over my body. So at 800
l. m. we set out across the desert and
here was a cool freshness in the
open air. This is not desert as one
might imagine from seeing pictures
of the Sahara. There is a great deal
of vegetation covering the sandhills
and it is not loose blowing sand. We
saw the blue night dim and the color
come in the East until sunlight shone
on the hilltops before the sun itself
blazed up. In the light of morning
we felt the colors of the desert
white green and green, and brown
and blue into purple, then almost pure
orange against distant cobalt noun
tains.