Into the Canyonlands
I’m getting seriously rattled around in the back seat of a tour van as Lillian, our NavajoMexican driver and guide, races through the desert rocks, sand, and scrub brush toward Antelope Canyon. Next to me, my son Ben asks if I’m OK. We’re on the second leg of a father-son birthday trip he arranged as a gift when I turned 70. Our main destination was Arizona’s aweinspiring Grand Canyon, a place I’d longed to see all my life. We had added Antelope Canyon, a two-hour drive north on the Navajo Nation near the Utah border, when we saw photos of its mind-blowing beauty.
I give a nod while laughing at Lillian’s undaunted driving prowess over terrain that was never meant for vehicular traffic. She’s giving
“off-road” a whole new meaning. When we arrive at the mouth of the canyon, we wait for our group’s turn to enter this geological wonder, where centuries of flash floods fashioned the twisting sandstone cavern. Ben and I are open-mouthed in wonder as we start walking through the spectacular cathedral of smoothly carved, burnt red and purple rock walls, a photographer’s dreamscape.
In its own way, it’s as awe-inspiring to us as the Grand Canyon. When Ben and I had stood on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon at sunset the night before, and then at sunrise on this cloudless morning, I had felt a surge of emotion. Photographs cannot convey the powerful sense of wonder and astonishment the Grand Canyon creates. It has to be seen in person to experience the majesty of the place. This gift from my son and the chance to share it with him was immeasurable. As we walked — every vista filled with dramatic hues and the stunning width and depth of this massive canyon — I thanked him for bringing me here.
Ben is a quiet and thoughtful young man, an outdoorsman and lover of the natural wonders of our planet. “You have given me so much throughout my whole life,” he said. “I wanted to give you something special in return.”
As tears welled up in my eyes, I couldn’t say anything more. We made our way along the trail, away from the crowds of tourists, stopping to feel the wind and soaking in the quiet that emanates from the canyon. The mid-October warmth enveloped us as the sun rose higher in the sky and the canyon’s colors evolved and shifted, shadows giving way to light. I snapped countless photos with my camera and my iPhone. We noticed people perched on distant ledges far out from the rim. One couple in the distance began to disrobe and Ben and I looked at each other. “What the heck?” we said at the same time. In this provocative, mysterious landscape, anything is possible. Questions rarely yield answers.
Sedona, Arizona, was the last stop on our trip. North of Phoenix, it’s a small city nestled among stunning red-rock formations and desert. We hiked up Bell Rock one afternoon and though there were plenty of other senior citizens doing the climb, Ben kept a laser focus on me, making sure I didn’t slip on the loose sand and gravel. “I can’t have you falling down and breaking something,” he said with a grin. Having him nearby with a steady hand for balance was grand.
Our trip was short, just five days, but you can fit a once-in-a-lifetime experience into limited time if the venue and the company are right. Ben and I have traveled together plenty of times, including a cross-country drive when he relocated to Mount Shasta, California, years ago. Now he lives in Portland, Maine, and we are close enough to have regular visits.
Our time spent quietly moving, whether in the local woods with our dogs, or out on a majestic canyon rim, is all part of our indelible life-affirming journey. That he made it happen and picked up the tab will ever bring a smile to my face.