February 05, 2006
In June 1990 my father took me to visit the Grand Canyon. The rims are eight and nine thousand feet above sea level, and the bottom is almost a mile deep. We hiked partway down, so we spent a great deal of time at the edges of cliffs and ledges. Later we visited Death Valley, and it was there that I slid and fell and scraped my arm. Fortunately there was no further distance I could fall, being at the lowest point below sea level in North America. So after all that time at the Grand Canyon I later fell in the geographically safest place possible.