Bryce Canyon, Redux

 

Last winter, Kate and I were reminiscing about the family vacations we'd taken when she was a child, and decided we wanted to create more travel memories together. Things that aren't in the book never happen for me (or her) these days, so we picked a momentarily free date on the summer calendar and penciled in a week together. We weren't set on any one place to visit, and after factoring in assorted trip constraints, we decided we'd use our time to visit Bryce Canyon. She'd never been there, and I was more than happy with the idea of making a return trip.

Despite the odds, our penciled-in date worked with all the other summer stuff in our lives, and I flew out last week to Los Angeles, so we (we = Kate, her partner Edwin, Lexi, and me) could drive up to Utah.

Given the traffic givens, the drive from here to there is a bit too long to make in one day, and we broke the drive into two days, stopping in Las Vegas. I'd never been to the city before, and was curious to see what it was all about.

My curiosity now satisfied, I'll probably never go back. It was HOT there, the temperature was 106 when we pulled into town last Sunday evening. Despite the lights and glitter, I was unable to ignore an underlying feeling of decay and sadness. I guess I'd always figured that adding gambling to a high concentration of alcohol and drugs could not make for a happy mix; my assumption has now been validated. I will say the people-watching was beyond intriguing. Just watching the mix of clothing - high fashion on some of the hotel guests juxtaposed with the shorts and saggy t-shirts many of the tourists were sporting - could have kept me fascinated for hours.

And, I must say, after leaving there, the cool beauty of Bryce Canyon was all the more stunning. We'd made reservations in the campground just off the rim of the canyon and our site was on the edge of the loop. When I stepped out of the tent in the middle of the night (gotta go pee!), the sight of the stars in the moonless sky took my breath away. I could see depth in the sky not visible from lower altitudes. Some of the stars were hung just beyond my reach; others faded into the distance to form the band of the Milky Way. *aaahhhh* *happy sigh*

I woke to early morning coolness, unzipped the tent flap to see hoodoos peeping over the trees, stood up, and felt a tightness around my heart easing. It's been long and too long since I have spent any time far from city lights; I was glad to be back where I could sense the rhythms of nature. (And more than a bit impressed to find I am still able to sleep on the ground, albeit on a camp pad, and wake up on more-or-less speaking terms with my hips. Who knew???)

We stayed on the rim for our hike that first day; I was nursing a sore ankle, and wanted to give it one more day to heal before going down into the canyon. My very adult and sensible decision to not push things turned out to be the right one, because the following morning, we got up and at-'em before it got too hot, and I was able to once again hike the trail I followed back in my camper van days.

Sometimes, when you visit a place you haven't seen in a long time, the beauty you remember has faded and shrunk. Such was not the case here - the vistas from the trail were even more stunning than I remembered. Some part of my mind kept insisting that such wild, magical, and inhospitable beauty couldn't possibly be real, even as my eyes were drinking it all in, trying (and failing) to memorize the intricacies of the landscape. 

As I reluctantly stepped into the car to return to real life, I was SO glad we'd come. I'd spent precious one-on-one time with the growing-by-the-day, delightful, Ms. Lexi. (Kate and Edwin had a bit more stamina for hiking than the two of us, and went off on their own after our first hike of the day.) I'd reinforced my initial good impression of Edwin and gotten to know him a little better. I'd treasured a few moments alone with Kate, enough to know she is doing well.

And, I'd reinforced one of the key lessons from my camper van days:

Beauty Is.
Amen.