Today we stood and stared in puzzlement at mysterious petroglyphs, a message etched into a glossy patina above a rocky ledge. Our own experiences, both individual and cultural, led to interpretations unique to each and every one of our party. And yet how could we really understand the message conveyed when we knew so little of the lives of the ancient ones? Our language too can leave a void. One not present might never know whether hell was referring to fire and brimstone or an incredibly amazing place.
Pictures may be better than a thousand words but still an element is lost. Join us on a sixty mile jaunt deep into the heart of an exotic terrain. Close your eyes and feel the warmth of the sun embrace your body. At times it is tempered by a kiss of mist drifting up from behind the boat or by the rush of the wind as it rumples your hair. Taste the joy of a picnic lunch on a sandy beach. Feel the thrill as we negotiate rapids and the tranquility of gazing at shapes and forms in the land or in clouds far off.
On patterned basaltic cliffs stippled in green, bighorn sheep with their tiny lambs note our presence, unafraid. A golden eagle glides above and the descending trill of a canyon wren echoes from wall to wall. Hells Canyon or a heavenly place?
