Dear Greensky Bluegrass,

The passengers inside the shuttle strain to look at the stone dwellings built among the boulders at Cliff Dwellers, which is along 89A. I tell them that I'm not sure who carved the perfectly square stones and placed them around the huge boulders that fell down the side of the Vermillion Cliffs centuries ago. "The buildings could be indigenous, but it could also be Mormon. Both have had a presence in this area in the 1800s." I don't say anymore. Instead, I turn up Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like a Rock." One day, I'll stop and read the signage when I have an empty van. For now, I hope the passengers appreciate the "Northbound" playlist I put together for this 4-hour drive to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

But now we're riding along the end of the Vermillion Cliffs as the copper ridge curves gently towards Utah along the wide plain. These miles are filled with a 13-minute and 7-second song: "Last Winter in the Copper Country." The copper cliffs and the cold November air make this song apropos to this portion of the drive.

While the song plays, I inevitably think about the long rambling letter I sent to the band and Holly Bowling. In the letter, I told them how much that song means to me and about the airplane ride back from Thanksgiving when I saw the circling green light from the "tiny little airport[s]" in the "tiny little town[s]" that have meant the world to me on this rambling journey I've been on for the last seven years. The plane actually went over Salida, and I could see the Buena Vista airport. I also saw the Hanksville, Escalante, and Kanab airport lights that night before landing in Vegas. Yeah....I detailed each of those places in that long letter to the band. They did, however, play that song at the St. Louis show I attended. Is it a coincidence? Did they even read the letter? I'll probably never know.

But now....here we are. It's almost the end of the season for canyon hikers, and my job ends at the end of the month. I won't be staying near the canyon for the winter. I'll go somewhere warmer. However, I will be back this way as I plan to make it to Flagstaff for the Greensky Bluegrass concert in January. Should I tell the band about how I play "Last Winter in the Copper Country" for my passengers? Should I hope that they play it at the Flagstaff show?

The Greensky Bluegrass song fades out as I approach the climb up the mountain toward Jacob Lake, and Holly Bowling's version of "Terrapin Station" begins. The melodic piano and the movements within the song seem to parallel the winding roadway as it climbs from about 4500' to over 7000' over fifteen miles. Some rise, some fall, some climb...to get to Terrapin. For now, the Jacob Lake Inn is my Terrapin Station. The woodsmoke of the roaring fire fills the air around the inn, and fresh-baked cookies greet me and my passengers at our last rest stop.

Back in the shuttle van, the gal in the back seat comments that the music seems to match the surroundings.

At least someone else gets it.