For lack of a compelling evidence to the contrary in the court of public opinion, I think I can safely defend the popular notion that travel is the best form of education. Travel has always fascinated me, not only for the experience, but for affording my insatiable curiosity with an avenue to discover, for the opportunity to enhance intellectual growth that only a personal encounter, aided by visual and tactile familiarity, can completely satisfy. Travel is liberating, emotionally and otherwise, for it gives us a perspective on people, places, and things that broadens our self-understanding and enlarges our here-to-fore limited view of the world. For most of us, there is that need to be "there", to explore, to see, to know, and thereby establish a connection to something. There is in me that desire for adventure as well as a yearning to learn what was, to understand what can be. Travel graciously offers those possibilities... and more.
Sometime in July, one of my friends emailed me a tour company's website advertising a number of bus tours to different parts of the country including one that went to different national parks - Yellowstone, The Arches, Mt. Rushmore, Grand Teton, etc. A friend from high school was coming from the Philippines in September and I thought it would be a great opportunity for her to see those tourist attractions in the country. I had not been to those places either because, when planning a vacation, I always opted to go abroad - Europe or the Mediterranean - thinking I could always go to those "local" places anytime. So after relaying my plan to my friend as well as to another high school friend who also resided in Vegas, we decided to book the tour.
We left the area in mid-afternoon and after hours of travel, we reached Denver, Colorado where we spent the night. Crazy Horse and Mt. Rushmore monuments in South Dakota were our next day stop. Our tour guide stoked our tradition-loving spirits as he recounted the story of the monument to Crazy Horse, the legendary Lakota Indian leader. The still unfinished stone memorial, dubbed as the world's largest mountain structure, aimed to honor the culture and traditions of North American Indians. Mt. Rushmore, on the other hand, immortalizing the likeness of four past U. S. presidents - Washington, Jefferson, T. Roosevelt, and Lincoln - stirred within us a different fire. Seeing those familiar faces of greatness carved in granite would easily awaken even the most latent patriotic fervor in most, something that would invariably segued to a prayer for deliverance of this great but now beleaguered nation. But gratitude remained for what we still had, for the lessons of the past we hoped we were still capable to learn from the legacy of those honored leaders immortalized in stone.
The next day, we were off again enjoying the scenic miles of green valleys and untamed mountain ranges that seemed to beckon to us. Then came Yellowstone National Park, wild, gigantic, diverse, outrageously stunning in a natural, unpretentious way. From its numerous geothermal, steam-spewing geysers to its vast landscape of towering trees and cascading waterfalls, Yellowstone was nature at its best, and we were hooked! We soaked in the timeless beauty of Old Faithful, the most famous geyser of the park, as it erupted at regular intervals. We stalked the park's wildlife from a distance - elks, bison, deer, etc, - to get a photo for posterity as they grazed nonchalantly along established paths. We hovered in fascination at the gurgling hot springs emitting sulphuric vapors as we traveled the meandering boardwalks of the park and wondered at the secrets hidden in the deceptive depth of its enormous lake that seemed to tease and lure us with its placid grandeur. Spending the night in a hotel just outside the park, we were up early to avail ourselves of the iconic beauty of a Yellowstone morning. Early day at Yellowstone was like stepping into an ancient fantasyland of pristine, quiet landscape with steam from boiling pools fogging the winding paths that were still covered in semi-darkness. It reminded me of those long-ago days of my childhood when life offered simple joys such as the sound of nature waking from its slumber. Ah, but that was from another world, from a distant time, thoughts unearthed from a growing cache of half-buried memories. Strange how the slowly ebbing penumbra of a Yellowstone dawn could send someone to an unintended excursion to the past.
Leaving Yellowstone after our morning stroll, our tour bus headed to our next destination, Jackson Hole, Wyoming. After a couple or so hours on the road, we stopped at a place called Jackson Lake Lodge to take pictures and use the lodge's facilities. The place had a cavernous hall with full-length picture windows overlooking a backyard garden and a wide, open field beyond. A few minutes before the scheduled time to go back to the bus, I noticed people lugging out their cameras and taking pictures through the windows. As I came closer, I saw an awesome, heart-stopping sight: The majestic Grand Teton with its rocky, craggy points emerging through a veil of thick, white, lazily gliding clouds! It presented such a captivating, surreal beauty that sang to the spirit and transcended the common and mundane, a phantasmagoric phenomenon right before my eyes. As I watched that incredible spectacle, that mesmerizing display of a cosmic drama of light and colors, I felt I was viewing a piece of heaven. The Grand Teton, with the undulating clouds playing within its base, shimmered under the sultry blanket of the golden sun. In the foreground spread a sea of green forest that seemed to compete with the azure blue of the tranquil sky. Never had I seen nature in such spell-binding splendor. Reluctantly leaving that grand display of nature's wonder, I headed for the tour bus with the rest of the group thinking that was the last time I would see it. But the Teton range was visible along the way and seemed to follow us through miles of vast wilderness displaying the pastoral beauty of the Wyoming countryside. I tried to capture the Grand Teton's arresting radiance in film but every shot gave me an unsatisfactory, frustrating result as it failed to encapsulate the mountain's majestic quality. But undaunted, before such panoramic vista dissolved into the towering green heights of pines and deciduous trees, I safely tucked and preserved it in the sentimental - but mayhap less enduring - photograph of the mind.
Jackson, Wyoming was a quaint little town that sat like a sentinel where tourists had to go through before entering the Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks. It boasted a steep, imposing ski slope that would be hard to miss even at the hilt of a mid-day September summer. The day was particularly busy and somehow festive due to the presence of vendors lining the main street to sell their goods in the once-a-month Farmer's Market that catered to both locals and tourists. One of Jackson's attractions was the Elk Antler arch in the center of town where memorabilia enthusiasts crowd to take personal photos. Jackson did not have the sophistication and ultra-modern feel of big cities but the old-town charm and traditional appeal that seemed to have sadly vanished in more contemporary areas continued to be its mainstays.
We went through Idaho as we traveled back to Utah which would be the last state we would pass before the conclusion of the tour. The overcast sky that slowly formed before we entered Idaho foreshadowed the torrent of rain that burst on and off as we came close to Salt Lake City. It was almost dusk when we reached our hotel and the rain had slowed down to a light shower then finally stopped which was a blessing, because my two daughters, who both resided south of Salt Lake City, came with their husband and children to see me.
We set out at 7:00 AM the following day to visit the Great Salt Lake, the State Capitol, and Temple Square. The rain returned after a brief respite on the previous night and the sky was overcast. Although not a heavy downpour, prolonged exposure to it would surely drench us so we donned our hat and sweater before venturing out. We stopped at a little marina in the Great Salt Lake and braved the rain for some pictures, then continued on to downtown Salt Lake. The traffic was very light and the streets looked deserted, not only because it was relatively early but also because it was Sunday. The Mormons (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints), which constitute more than 50% of Utah's inhabitants, follow a strict observance of the Sabbath law and do not open business establishments on Sunday. Temple Square houses the buildings and structures of the church with the temple as its centerpiece. Sister missionaries greeted us after we entered the square and we were given a tour of some of its buildings. I had visited the place countless times before being a member of the church and was pretty familiar with its layout and since we were a big group, I kind of assisted the others who were lagging behind where to go. The missionaries gave us a tour of some of the buildings like the Tabernacle, which was the home of the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and the Assembly Hall. A brief history of the church was also presented by the missionaries especially the story of the Mormon pioneers and their faith-based sacrifices that built that great state and other surrounding settlements in the 1800's.
The highlight of that Temple Square tour for me, then and as always, was our visit to "The Christus" on the second floor of the North Visitors' Center. For this particular trip, it was the climax and denouement in one reflective, flowing synthesis. The 11-foot statue of Jesus Christ by the Danish sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen, was an imposing single presence in a dome structure surrounded by a mural of heavenly bodies depicting the creation. Being there with the statue of the Savior standing in a solemn, majestic pose as the world outside continued on its swirl, was a choice experience. It was a moment when the physical and the spiritual sense of this earthly experience seized one's limited understanding to infuse the profound meaning we all need to learn. That solitary moment was a fitting ending to that seven-day journey that stirred my sense of awareness and appreciation for his glorious and magnificent handiwork. Unequal in majesty and grandeur by anything fashioned by man, those stunning vistas of mountains and lakes, green forests, tumbling waterfalls and quiet brooks, were constant reminders of the boundless love of a Supreme Being, one whose divine brush strokes from his palette of vibrant colors created a spell-binding beauty that gave us a glimpse of the glories that awaited us in his eternal home. And I marveled at his grace and tender mercies as my spirit genuflected in praise and immense gratitude while my heart sang, "Hallelujah, praise the Lord".
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