Photo Saturday: Grand Canyon, Part 4

I keep thinking I can cover more than 2 days in a single post, but there are so many photos, and we did so much! So forgive my self-indulgence and be patient as I work my way down the river. For Zeke, I'm adding info about our camps and stops.

Day 7:

This was a day for an early start, due to the logistics of running a river whose flow is controlled by a region's power needs. Crystal Rapids is a notoriously challenging stretch, and is easier at low water. Thus we were hurried along to get to the rapids before the morning's release from the dam (to power the SW) reached that stretch of the river. We left camp at 8 a.m. and headed straight into Boucher Rapids, leaving us all cold and wet (especially those in the bow of the boat). 

Ready to shove off after a night on a wind-blown sand dune.

 Of course, I don't really have any photos of going through the rapids, since I was too busy hanging on. I was more likely to get photos when we paused below a rapid to keep an eye on the boats behind us.

Emerging from a rapid, looking back to watch the other boats.

By the time we'd been through Boucher and Crystal, those in the front of the raft were really cold, so I swapped places to give Tom a break from the worst splashing as we went into "the Jewels," another series of 7 splashy rapids. We finished with Bass Rapid just before camp--a good thing, as I got a river-load of water down the front of my jacket and was set to get cold, too!

Between rapids we could enjoy the scenery, which included quite a lot of desert bighorn sheep, including this band which had two lambs (only one pictured).

Making camp before lunch allowed us to do another substantial hike, up and over a ridge into Shinumo Creek, where William Bass had a tourist camp long ago. Climbing an 800' ridge in the mid-day heat, even starting with wet clothes, was painful, but worthwhile.

Looking back from the divide. Camp is the little sand bar below the rapids.

On this hike we finally started seeing some flowers, mostly cactus blossoms.

I think these are some kind of four o'clocks

Claret cup cactus

Prickly pear

Once over the top we dropped quickly into Shinumo Creek, where cottonwoods offered some shade.

Outdoor mini-museum at Bass's camp

At the turn-around point, a glorious swimming hole.

Enjoying the washing-machine action of the mini-falls. Creek water was cool, but not cold, so it felt great.

Of course, by the time we got back to camp we were hot and tired again! Some of us took our time, lingering over the flowers in hopes that the sun would stop shining so much on the black Brahma schist that backdropped the campsite (and held the heat well into the night). We were ready for dinner after that hike!

Pro tip: if ramen noodles are on the menu, dress it up in a chef's uniform

Much easier to find a corner to flop out a tarp and a single mattress than to put up a tent. In this case, just one rock away from the kitchen, so I could be first in line for the coffee.

The energy and skill of our guides never ceased to amaze me.

Day 10:

We started the day with the cinnamon cake that had refused to cook in time for dessert--all were agreed that it made a great addition to breakfast, so no complaints. This morning, I took a front seat in the dory, rapidly becoming my boat of choice.

The paddle raft was off limits to me due to tendonitis in my elbows, but dang, they always seemed to be having fun!

About 10 we stopped for a 4-mile hike into Garnet Canyon. It started with a fun rock scramble, before we hiked around and into the canyon.

Start by ducking under the arch!

Climbing through the arch and on up. It was a pleasure to do my scrambling with a guide always ready to lend a hand where needed, or just to point out where to put hands and feet.

Rounding the end of the ridge to Garnet.

Garnet proved to have a nice little slot canyon to explore, with some help up a couple of small pour-offs.

I'm pretty sure there's a way around, but this was a pretty effective stopping point for us.

It was also really nice to sit there in the shade, even though the creek was dry, so there was no swimming hole after all.

Back to the rafts for lunch, before we shoved off to get to the next short hike.

That's right--Day 10 was a two-hike day. The second, though, was about 10 minutes up to Elves Chasm, a beautiful bit of creek with a waterfall and a cavern behind.

The pool was deep--well over our heads, and suitable for the brave to jump into.

Several of the guides and a couple of the passengers made the climb up behind the rocks on the right to the slippery jumping-off point. They made quite a splash.

I wasn't about to jump, but I put my waterproof cell phone in a pocket and went to take photos from a different perspective.

From the cavern looking out.

Naturally, I took some videos.

I'm thinking this should be my new author photo :D

From the Elves Chasm it was another couple of miles down a calm bit of river to camp, making this one of our shorter river days--only about 12 miles, but with lots of great exploration. Sitting in a boat on the river is stunning, but there is no doubt in my mind that it's the side hikes that really make the trip.

Camp, about Mile 120

If you can't choose, do it all. That includes the menu option on burgers and brats night.

 ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2021

 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.

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#IWSG

 Dang! Forgot to hit "publish" before I went camping!

 

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time - and return comments. This group is all about connecting!

Every month, the IWSG provides an optional question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt advice, insight, a personal experience or story.

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world! 

The awesome co-hosts for the June 2 posting of the IWSG are J Lenni Dorner, Sarah Foster, Natalie Aguirre, Lee Lowery, and Rachna Chhabria!

 

 

June 2 question - For how long do you shelve your first draft, before reading it and re-drafting? Is this dependent on your writing experience and the number of stories/books under your belt? 

 

Please do answer this question in the comments! I'm interested in how others handle this curious part of the writing process. (Note: I have fled the insane heat in CA's lowland interior and probably won't read responses until Thursday night or Friday).

 My own answer to the question is still evolving. Before I get to that, let's start with the writer's update. 

The novel planning and plotting continues rather slowly, but I'm pleased to say that this week I have completed and shared one short story, and drafted my WEP story for the 16th. I have also finished (I think) messing with the cover for my fourth short story collection, Clues, Cops, & Corpses (revealed below, because why not!). I'm planning to launch that into the world on the 14th, but it's available for pre-orders at Amazon now! 

That about sums up my progress, so how about that question?

My ability to get back to a project has improved--a LOT--as I've gained experience. Part of that is the gradual change from looking at revisions as some kind of torment to seeing them as a creative act, if more challenging than the original composition. So instead of letting an MS sit around for a year while I piled up other new work that needed to be revised, for the last several books it's been a matter of months, sometimes as little as two (that depends on the travel schedule as much as anything).

I think two months might be about the minimum to get my brain to shift from playing with the bright shiny new toy to figuring out how to make it better, if we are talking novels. For short stories, the next day will do, and fifteen minutes for flash fiction on a deadline :D

Okay--your turn! How long do you like to let a story or novel steep?

 

And here's that cover:

Amazon

Smashwords

 

 

Steps #writephoto

It's not my usual time for flash fiction, but the constraints of the #writephoto blog hop don't fit well with the usual, and why not a Monday flash? 

If you’d like a regular flash fiction prompt, consider popping over to KL Caley’s website New2Writing.com, and check out the Writephoto section on the menu. There’s a new prompt every Thursday, with stories due by the following Thursday. KL provides reblogs and a round-up post to give all the entries a chance to shine. 

This week's photo is a guest photo from writer Jemima Pett, and inspired a story I'll be sure to haul back out for National Library Week.

Here's the photo:

 

 

I wasn't sure where I was going when I started with this, but I can't say I'm surprised to find where I ended up.

 About 800 words.

Steps

Myttha paused, her gaze traveling up the stairway, one step at a time. Once she climbed up there and crossed over the bridge, there would be no turning back. Though she wanted and needed what she believed she’d find on the other side, an irrevocable step required at least some recognition of its gravity.

If she ever came back down those steps, she’d be a different person, or so the promise ran.

If.

She ran through her mental checklist. Sword: check. Hidden knives: three, check. Satchel of food: check. Desire: check.

One deep breath. A second. She stepped onto the bottom stair and felt the magic tingling through her feet.

Maybe a sword wasn’t what was called for here. She hesitated long enough to do one more gear check: the amulet, given her by the witch who had told her she would find her heart’s desire and life’s work here. It felt warm where it hung from the leather thong around her neck and rested against her chest. Coiled within the crude bundle lay a single bit of parchment. Myttha knew that, because she’d looked.

The witch said that parchment unlocked her future. That she would know when the time came to use it.

Myttha didn’t know if she believed in the power of lines scribbled on parchment, but she needed all the help she could get. When you signed on to be a warrior no one told you that by thirty you’d be sore, stiff, and on the brink of old age. She needed out of the fighting life before an enemy discovered she wasn’t the invincible swordswoman she’d been half a lifetime ago.

She took the next step, and the next, climbing the span, feeling the troublesome tug in her left hamstring where that poxy ogre had raked her the previous fall.

At the top of the arched bridge, Myttha hesitated again. She’d expected a door at the far end of the stair and the bridge, but the way continued between the crowding buildings, a mere thread of an alley. Was it the wrong place? Should she turn back and try elsewhere?

She turned, raised a foot—and ran into an invisible wall.

Truly, there was no turning back. The witch hadn’t been exaggerating after all. Perhaps the wall was the witch’s doing.

Indecision now useless, Myttha moved ahead more confidently, one hand on her amulet, the other on her sword hilt. Wasn’t that how her whole life had been formed, between sword and sorcery? Fitting now that her quest for a way out should be formed the same way.

There. The door she’d been seeking. It looked plain enough, like any door. Behind it? Myttha only know that it would change her life entirely. The magic might let her walk past, but what was the point? She’d been making her living by the sword long enough to know it was only a matter of time before making a living led to losing her life. The door represented a way out of that inevitability.

Of course, there could be monsters behind the door, or a whole army, or an assassin waiting just for her. All Myttha knew was that the old woman had told her to come here, shown her a vision of the door and promised that behind it she would find her new life. And given her the amulet.

It was an alley entrance, and the door led into—whatever lay beyond—from the back. No address, no labels, nothing to indicate why she had come.

She laid her hand on the door and the latch gave way. No one attempted to spear her or behead her as the door swung open so she stepped inside, sword in hand, prepared for whatever attack might come.

All she saw were walls of books. One room leading on to another, and another... it was immense, and the significance took a moment to strike her.

It was a library.

What had that old witch meant, sending her to a library of all places? How could she find a new life here? She couldn’t even read! She had spent hours studying the slip of parchment in that amulet without making a single hint of sense out of it.

A very large person of some indeterminate species was crossing the room toward her. This was it, then—the moment when someone would point out she didn’t belong here and show her the door. Or clap her in irons for breaking in through the back door.

The voice was low and utterly non-threatening.

“Can I help you? Do you have a library card?”

Myttha found herself handing over the amulet and answering with words that she never would have thought would pass her lips: “I would like to learn to read.”

And so her life changed.

 ###

 ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2021

 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.

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