We are inclined to forget that sight is in some ways the most superficial of our senses. Immediately after I came out of the Canyon I flew low over the whole of my route. It was an interesting experience. But that was all. Sight was the only sense I could use. And the difference between flying over the Grand Canyon and living in it is like the difference between, on one hand, seeing a beautiful woman in a bikini and, on the other, making deeply satisfying love to her, with all her warmth and smoothness and fragrance and murmurings and movement.
Once a journey is designed, equipped and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an expedition, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself, no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like a marriage; the certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this although only those who have experienced it will understand it.
A clear, hot afternoon, reeking with desert sunshine, thirteen men, a bear cub, and a dog afloat on the worlds most dangerous river; a dream come true; my long planned expedition was underway at last.
Leaders are best when people scarcely know they exist, not so good when people obey and acclaim them, worst when people despise them. Fail to honor people, they fail to honor you. But of leaders who talk little, when their work is done, their task fulfilled, the people will all say, We did this ourselves.