I admit that I'm not really a big one for getting out and about much on tour. I prefer to stay in my hotel room and paint, fire up the laptop or pick up a guitar. Occasionally all three simultaneously (whilst juggling two eggs and a chainsaw.) Having said that, I jumped at the chance to visit Corcovado and see the big Jesus up close and personable. All nine hundred or six hundred or whatever it is feet of him.

Of course with eleven people in the entourage speaking two different languages, even the simplest maneuvers can become complicated. It didn't help that some of us were operating on Brazilian time (at least a half an hour late). I found myself wondering on more than one occasion whether or not Chris may have been Brazilian in a past life.

I couldn't believe our bad luck as we finally approached the mountain. Low cloud had completely obscured the enormous statue of Christ the Redeemer. I probably said something like, "that'd be right, the one time I let myself be talked into some sight seeing jaunt for people who haven't got anything better to do with their time, this happens!"

Never the less, with a, "well, we've come this far…" attitude we boarded the train/cable car and began the almost vertical ascent to the top of the mountain. At first we passed poor people living in semi makeshift dwellings. Some of the children waved to us. It became colder and mistier as we rose. We passed through dense rainforest jungle, with rivers and sheer valleys, cutting through the dense mountain vegetation. The whole place was dotted with huge jack-fruit.

As we climbed the few flights of stairs that lead to the base of the statue and viewing areas everyone was complaining about the near zero visibility. The fabulous views of Rio de Janeiro were completely obscured by the cloud below us and the Jesus by the cloud above us. Actually it was an eerie place to be. You couldn't see a damn thing. It was like being in a cloud, because that's exactly what it was.FeeIing a little cheated, I was halfheartedly looking up toward where I thought the Jesus should be, although it was hard to tell.

Just then a swirl of fog lifted to reveal a gigantic toe.
There it was…God's Toe.
As I watched in awe, another toe was revealed, then an ankle, then both colossal feet became visible through the swirling mist. Humbled, I stood before The Feet of God.
After quite a long wait, the ethereal mist began to rise again quite suddenly and way off in the distance you could just make out his gigantic hands and fingers.
Briefly.
In my head, the old movie line, "This must surely be the Son of God." Finally as we were about to leave, there, way way up, impossibly high, his holy face could be seen. And never forgotten.

To be honest, in the end I was relieved to be out of there.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd glimpsed heaven and the Catholics
were right. Imagine that. The Feet of God.