A guy named Powell….

Powell Point Memorial.


At the end of Powell Point.


Named for a guy named Powell.


Who says my posts aren’t educational?


But they do have pretty pictures.


Walking out to the end of Powell Point was a frigid experience….

The wind was frigid, snapping my hair into my face like a whip. It felt like it was 4 below.

And I could no longer feel my nose.

IMG_3270 (2)


Red… but still there.


I scurried around, taking pictures.

Thinking, yeah… if it was 50 degrees warmer I’d sit a spell.


But the husband was happily climbing around.


Exploring every last square inch.


And that’s the thing about the Grand Canyon….

There are lots of inches to discover.


Including this fuzzy elk butt that was pointing at the car window when I got in.


I love nature.

16 thoughts on “A guy named Powell….”

  1. At least the 2 of you are trained professionals due to living in Maine.

    Imagine if this Florida transplant had visited Powell Point on the same frigid day . . . my eyes might have frozen open! 😯

    Liked by 1 person

  2. In that kind of bitter breezes, a fluffy butt is a necessity, not a luxury … I think I would have tried to fluff mine up too … Ol’ Powell had some brass to descend down to the river where there was no trails … I went down the Bright Angel trail both afoot and on a mule. Mule is the only way to go … it was a loooooong schlep back up the canyon …


  3. “Damn.

    I love nature” But you, obviously, don’t like to eat–3 days in the Grand Canyon and you haven’t eaten yet!!!

    By the way 27 States (not sure if Arizona and/or Maine are included) have declared Elks as off limits as they have some sort of disease that is contagious!! So don’t have Elk meatballs!!

    Liked by 1 person

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