Is That You, Mom?

You know that my camera went kaput in Utah.  I approved the repair at Nikon, am praying for a good outcome.  It was shattering, to say the least, to start my sightseeing and to have the buggardly thing act completely normally and create mostly-white pics.

I bought two of those one-time-use cameras at the Bryce Canyon visitor center.  And lo, we've time-travelled to 1967! 

The pharmacy charged me full-price for the pics but had disclaimers slapped all over the envelope.  Temperature extremes?  X Rays?  Could be anything given that they were on a plane prior to processing. These few are as good as it got with my basic photo editing tools - the originals are even worse!

I keep looking for my Mom, wearing her shell top, pedal pushers and canvas shoes, gasping as my sisters and I get too near the edge. (My mother's gasps are legendary - and possibly genetic.)

If you ever get any excuse to be anywhere near southern Utah, GO.  There are about a dozen major parks in reasonable driving distance of one another, and the driving itself is incredible.  Do a lookup on Utah's Scenic Byway 12 and you'll get a glimpse of the nonstop, head-smacking, awe-inspiring grandeur that I was able to experience.   

 [A Caveat:  if you decide to drive Route 12, the most stable person in your party should drive.  The most likely to be terrified of being within two feet of a major precipice (with no guardrails) should ride in back, with their eyes shut.  It feels like Certain Doom for long stretches, and I am inordinately proud of myself for having driven it successfully.  A fellow at Zion told me that he had a friend who was ticketed for driving too slowly on this route and I believe him.  The offset to the terror is those moments when you're approaching the top of a rise and cannot see the other side: every single time this happened, I was rewarded with a different and just-as-incredible vista as the one I'd just left.]