Color in the Land

Mr. Webster becomes quite garrulous when he speaks about color. Quote: A quality of visible phenomena, distinct from light and shade... A sensation evoked as a response to the stimulation of the eye and its attached nervous mechanisms by radiant energy of certain wave lengths and intensities. Unquote. He further discusses in his learned way chromatic colors and achromatic colors and the difference between brilliance, saturation and hue. Obviously the old gentleman knew his colors. His weighty lexicon is a lot of fun, and quite revealing to one who loves any color as long as it is red. Such a person must lean heavily upon Mr. Webster's learning and discernment in attempting the quite Olympian task of describing our parParticular part of the Southwest where the colors were heaped on by the bucketsful by a decidedly color-happy Providence when the land was a'making.

One of the generous adjectives most bandied about by travel writers in describing Arizona is “colorful.” The state stands bloody but unbowed though badly shaken by the onslaught. The adjective has become dulled by overuse as bright pajamas fade from too frequent visits to the washing machine. Yet, try as one might and even with Mr. Webster's considerate and considerable assistance one can find no adjective quite as descriptive or one that envelops so thoroughly the many features that make this part of Uncle Sam's vast domain such a charming and attractive place to live in or to visit.

This is truly a land of color, as color-drenched as it is sun-drenched.

This neighborly journal, with pardonable editorial liberty, considers southern Utah an intimate part of our travel field and well within the bounds of our editorial acumen. Add, then, southern Utah to Arizona, as we will for the purposes of this discussion, ladies and gentlemen, and we give you the most extravagantly-rich-in-color portion of this ever-loving, blue-eyed world.

Consult, if you will, a map of the western states. The pronounced red splotch in the northcentral part of Arizona is Grand Canyon National Park. Northward across the line in Utah is Bryce Canyon National Park. Northward and slightly to the west is Zion National Park. They are so close together a person could breakfast in Zion, have lunch at Bryce, and arrive in time to dine leisurely at the North Rim, Grand Canyon, without subjecting to undue stress and strain the innards of one's gasoline buggy or the twitching ends of one's nervous system. But the "sensations evoked as a response to the stimulation of the eye and its nervous mechanisms by the radiant energy of certain wave lengths and intensities" produced by all the colorful landscape to which one had gazed upon would be terrific. In other words, seeing all that garish, glaring, variegated but harmonious color in one short day would leave one bugeyed.

If the rest of the many acres under our scrutiny were as dull as soot, as lacklustre as a pallid sky on a gray day, our quest for color in the terrain would be handsomely rewarded within the boundaries of these three national parks. From towering alabaster canyon walls of Zion, to the flushed topaz spires of Bryce, to the rubescent kaleidoscope that is Grand Canyon - here is a palette on which are mixed all the pigments known to colorimetry and chromatics and the richest tints our bountiful earth is capable of producing. Bryce, Zion and Grand Canyon are but three of the many, many pretty picture postal cards we are able to send to our friends and neighbors marked with a bold "X" inscribed with a gay but maybe not so original greeting: "Having a grand time-wish you were here." As a matter of fact, as we finger through all the cards on the bulging rack we find many others to choose from which are equally as colorful, as beautiful, as dramatic in composition and tonal values as those we sent to keep the postman busy and our friends, living in more sombrous surroundings, informed of our progress through the painted and radiant land.

Here is one of Cedar Breaks National Monument, a scenic gem in pastel shades, between Zion and Bryce. It is pretty but alas! no printer's skill can do it justice. This one shows a glimpse of that wilderness of rufous monoliths called Monument Valley where the wind quickly erases the hoof prints of Navajo ponies in the sunburnt sand. It would have been a better picture if the photographer had waited until August had filled the sapphire sky with castles of frosty white clouds to present the scene in a proper setting.

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dancy of the Kaibab forest, a green oasis surrounded by reds, pinks, and dusty browns. House Rock Valley, shimmering in the sun, held in bounds by the Vermilion Cliffs. Who was the poet back in some dim and distant yesterday who had the wit and an eye of color appreciation to so aptly name that formidable escarpment?

The Vermilions give way to Echo Cliffs, a purplish background which follows the silvery thread of highway to Marble Canyon where we cross the river. Here red-blue cliffs plunge headlong into the slow chocolate movement that is the Colorado River far below, making its lazy way to the sea. On to Cameron past the painted mounds, harsh in the glaring sun, through a colored land dripping in all shades of red. The San Francisco Peaks lift a white headdress over the horizon, a shining jewel in a setting of turquoise, with a cloak of emerald trailing off into the surrounding ocean of brown and dappled plateau.

At Flagstaff we may turn in any direction and not be disappointed for wherever we go the scenery will satisfy our search for proper subjects to capture on our sheets of color film. To Oak Creek Canyon, perhaps, where a green forest pours down multicolored canyon walls and where the pinks finally flow into the cascade of fire that distinguishes the red cliffs of Sedona. In another direction there is the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest, or further south the gray-green desert with the purple mountains loafing around in eternal vigilance. At last you and Mr. Webster will run out of adjectives but the eternal land of flowing, chaotic color goes on and on forever.

"A Sparkling Winter World" - ART RILEY "When Seasons Overlap" Paso Many Picasant Days

And so at last we come to the end of a picture journey through the happy land. Time, now, to celebrate the holidays and to prepare for the new year. It has been a privilege to have been with you and as we say hasta la vista, our wish is that you pass a pleasant day this Christmas and that all the days to come be pleasant days for you and yours... R. C.

BACK COVER "Christmas Gift - Western Style" COLOR CLASSICS FROM ARIZONA HIGHWAYS