Some of you know I have a thing about heights and it's been put to the test countless times on our travels - bridges, gorges canyons, ravines, and even skyscrapers (Top of the Rock when we were in NYC for the Today Show). But the South Rim took em all.
I won't waste your time with descriptors about the Grand Canyon... no writer should. Either you've been there or you haven't and neither words nor pictures will do it justice. It was my first time and an unscheduled detour between Albuquerque and Las Vegas.
Back to my acrophobia. It's my only fear and by fear I mean holy effin sh*t scared I am of heights. And it's nothing I can control. It's a physical and physiological reaction that's non-negotiable and down and outright absolute.
For reasons completely unknown to me, it starts in my private region and radiates outward. And NOT in a good way. When I was a boy, I tried to describe it to my father in, well, childlike terminology. I said, "Dad, my Popo tingles".
Coming in from the Flagstaff side of the Canyon you're kinda caught off guard. It's a pleasant enough drive with scenic vistas and then it's like you're ten feet from a 2,000 foot drop off and certain death.
But it's strange that the 'Popo Tingling' isn't just limited to me. Tish was taking photos near the edge and vicariously, I felt the danger in my loins. But the Murphy Mobile was a safe place for me and it was there I found my 'safe' word or words.
Hand on balls
If you're anxious, just say it and you'll feel better. Even if you don't even have em.
Hand on balls