A new obsession: a new ambition

It seemed like a good idea to drive from Las Vegas to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (280 miles and 5 hours) with an ageing hippie for whom a USA coast-to-coast drive is the equivalent of a Saturday morning trip to Sainsbury's, but it might have been better if we hadn't been using her map from 1971.

Moving swiftly along (which we didn't) - the Grand Canyon is more awesome than I ever imagined. We gazed down into it, we watched the changing shadows and colours, we walked along the rim, and we hiked down into it on the Bright Angel Trail.

The information leaflet said it was one and a half hour's walk to get to the first restroom (an earth closet and a water tap) 1,000 feet down. The path was narrow and stony, slippery in some places because of the surface dust, and at the side there was often a vertiginous drop. We got there in an hour and a quarter, but then I discovered we had only gone one and a half miles down! Pathetic! It is seven miles to the river at the bottom. It took us an hour and a half to get back up, and the air is thin at 7,000 feet, so I got a bit puffed.

But now I am totally hooked! I want to fly over it, sail through it on a boat, and walk right down the trail to the bottom ( a feat which takes a day.) The problem - apart from the arthritic knee and the advanced age - is that I couldn't carry all the stuff I would need to sleep at the bottom for two nights, before I tried to climb back up again. So I am on the lookout for a young fit man who will do the honours (by which I mean - carry my backpack. ) He has to be thoughtful and sensitive and patient ( I don't want a macho type) and someone who has a good relationship with his mother. I don't care about perfect abs. (For the record, Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise did not turn me on.)

So if you know such a person, point him in my direction.