On Thursday we landed in Salt Lake City and, as I expected, the Blackberry was buzzing. A crisis at work … e-mails back and forth … reading a pdf file on a 2-inch screen … more trouble … conference call this morning to sort it out.
Okay, NOW I am on vacation! We drove from Salt Lake to Bryce Canyon yesterday. I hope these are among the images that will flash before my eyes in my final hours. My husband’s family is from Utah, so we travel here every few years, but somehow between visits I seem to forget how amazingly beautiful this part of the country is. Long stretches of trees, and fields, and ramshackle log cabins mark the struggles and triumphs of generations now gone. Yes, This is the Place.
How beautiful the mountains are. How rugged the pioneers must have been to conquer this gorgeous but inhospitable terrain. My husband’s grandparents were Mormon pioneers who told many stories of hardship and loss in those days of stark desolation, hard and dangerous physical labor, and profound hope. Grandmother Jace always said that if a pioneer child lived to be five, then he’d probably live to be a hundred.
Our rented Jeep strains to climb up paved mountain passes (thank you Civilian Conservation Corps), yet somehow settlers made this journey on horses and in wagons, giving birth and mourning death along the way. The American spirit is palpable here.
This is an exquisite part of our country. Big blue skies and billowy clouds. Is it the altitude or the scenery that makes me take such long, deep, relaxing breaths? The tension melts and a peacefulness envelopes me as we observe the changing landscape that geological evolution and local microclimates have produced. I love to watch storms roll through from our mountain perch. No weather forecaster is needed here because we can see the rain clouds coming from miles away.
Here I am reminded of how small and irrelevant each of us is in this world, which I find strangely comforting.
Bryce Canyon is spectacular. The geologic formations and bands of color and texture tell us that the earth was not always as we know it, and will not always be as it is. The Cretaceous Seaway once stretched from the Gulf of Mexico trough this region of North America, dumping sediments thousands of feet deep. Later, during the Tertiary Period, rivers and streams brought iron-rich sediments that created pinkish-orange layers upon the gray seaway sediments. Then 10 million years ago, the earth pulled apart and what was once was at sea level was thrust 10,000 feet or more into the air. Over the next 10 million years, erosion created the fins and hoodoos we see today. These brilliant orange temples, spires, and arches remind me of sand castles made from dripping wet sand. The hoodoos stand obediently in line, like terracotta warriors protecting some giant unknown emperor.
If you’ve never been out west, I’d encourage you to make it a priority for future travel. Nature’s museum is breath-taking. The mountains are humbling. The rich blue sky is calming. People just seem healthier and happier out here. The pace is much more sane.
Now this is a vacation.
