Ole!

Senor here. One last comment about the canyon. When we wandered down the Bright Angel trail (pictured here) with our water in a 1/2 gallon thermos bottle, we were ill-prepared for the heat, the countless switchbacks, and the stamina needed for such a hike. (Bill, we warned you that we might go all the way down and spend the night by the Colorado River.) As it so happened, the donkeys used each switchback to micturate, leaving a pool of highly odiferous urine for us routinely to avoid. If we paused to take a drink at a switchback, the odors mingled with our taste buds . . .

And one more about Tucson. Do you remember the Tucson desert museum? Didn't we go there and accidentally meet Steve Droke's mother on the road?

In Portland we ran into Mrs. Combs, the head of the business department (and my typing teacher) at Tates Creek. She was attending some sort of convention. I'm pretty certain that it was outside this convention hall that we received our sign language cards from a Moonie or a deaf person or a deaf Moonie.