I slept in this morning. Yesterday had been a full day and once again I almost missed my ship. I really must be more aware of the time. But, you know, there are those precious interludes when time doesn’t matter one iota. Yesterday, at the grotto, was one of those times.

When I did finally arise I found I had missed breakfast, but was in time for brunch. I was delighted to see kippers on the menu. I haven’t had kippers since I left Wales all those years ago.

After breakfast I found a lounge chair on deck and stretched out for a nap. Can you imagine, a nap, when I hadn’t been out of bed that long. I could not remember ever feeling so relaxed. There was no guilt weighing me down. I had forgiven and been forgiven in return. The grotto had worked its magic.

I got up and walked over to the rail and stared at the water. It was as smooth as glass and indescribably clear. The bow of the Vulcania sliced through these Lemurian Seas as if they were warm butter. The sun was like a spotlight illuminating the depths where I could see tropical and jellyfish. Porpoise played tag with the bow. In the distance, a whale blew a sparkling fountain into the air while his companion appeared to hover momentarily, as if celebrating, his magnificent tail fluke in the air. There was no pollution here, no rusting cans littering the sea floor, no plastic water bottles or empty milk containers floating about, no oil slicks or sewage fouling the water. We could learn so much, I thought, from this ancient civilization.

I recalled years ago when I was active in the environmental movement. I remember one fight in particular. We wanted to save beautiful Glen Canyon from the dam building craze that choked most of the life out of the Colorado River. Now, all these years later, they are beginning to discover that much of what, based on scientific fact, we predicted is coming true; the silting up and the down stream damage, showing now during this period of fearful drought. In its pristine state Glen Canyon was more beautiful, more spectacular than even the Grand Canyon. Being unable to compete with the moneyed interests, it was a battle we lost.

I cried the day the dam was activated and have never visited Lake Powell. I cannot. Knowing what is drowned beneath its not so pristine waters; a treasure lost to us all in favor of smelly power boats and seadoos.

How can I go there now, remembering the price we paid?

There are moves under way to dismantle the dam. It will not happen in my lifetime, but maybe it will sometime in the future. Perhaps the canyon and all its colorful passages will see again the light of day. By that time I can only hope that human beings will be enlightened and appreciative of Nature’s very special gifts.

I continued an active participant in the environmental movement. The earth was and still is my cathedral.

I came to when I heard the call for lunch, and despite my late breakfast, I was hungry. I gathered in my day dreams and my memories and hurried to the dining room.

Vi Jones
©February 2, 2009

Glen Canyon Photos courtesy of:
J. Willard Marriott Library
University of Utah Library