Ed

[Today's Photos] Last of the busblogs. We're on the road back to St George, wrapping up our whirlwind 1100-mile ellipse through southern Utah and northern Arizona. We'll hit the road tomorrow morning and will very much miss Geri, our effervescent chauffeur.

Ever heard of Antelope Canyon? I hadn't, which made today an unexpected thrill. There is no possible way my photos or words will do it justice, but that won't stop me from trying. This is a place to see and experience.

Antelope Canyon is a slot canyon, an improbably narrow winding channel through 100 feet of Navajo Sandstone. A topless cavern with shafts of light beaming down to give the walls an unearthly golden shine.

A three-mile jeep drive up a wide sandy canyon took us to the entrance, an invisible slit in a high rock wall. Legend has it that a young Navajo girl went in search of a lost sheep and ended up finding this "cave" and a hundred head of pronghorn in it. Legend also has it that in 1912, over 150 Navajos hid out from "soldiers in blue coats" for one week in the canyon. Today was a crowded day, and we probably numbered 150 or more inside. It was cramped, and would probably have made for awkward sleeping arrangements. Good thing we didn't have any soldiers chasing us.

The canyon itself is cool and dim. I wore sandals, and the fine sand felt delightfully chill as it sifted through my toes. We snaked our way through the twisty canyon, pausing at the wider spots to let the return tour groups pass by. Most of the canyon is just wide enough for an Ed to walk along. Every turn brought new spectacles, more oohs and aahs. Sunlight peeks in through the narrow canyon top and is diffused by relection on the pale red sandstone walls. The effect is unlike anything I've seen: it's a beautiful -- one could almost say holy -- light.

Did I say "walls"? That's not the right word, but English (or Spanish, for that matter) has no word for these alluring curvaceous forms. The canyon is dry, its channel formed entirely by flash floods. It's easy to imagine the waters rushing and tumbling through here, reshaping the curves in minutes, sweeping away the cool sand and leaving new destructive creation behind. The rock is smooth, its protrusions and inlets voluptuously rounded. Antelope Canyon invites contemplation.

At right is the outlet of Lower Antelope Canyon into Lake Powell. This is a photo from yesterday, shown today to demonstrate the contrast. There's something obscene about Lake Powell. It's too blue, too rich, like an éclair sitting in a pool of oat bran. It's inviting yet disturbing. I can't take a moral position on it: I know the arguments against dams, and those in favor, and I know where I lean... but taken in its entirety, is it a good thing? I sure as heck can't say.

Two quick stops this afternoon: another Escalante National Monument visitor station, then the surreal Denny's Wigwam, a charming tourist trap in Kanab, Utah. Our crowd aren't big shoppers, but nearly everyone left Denny's with a bag and a smile.

And now, a personal note to Jim: I am in deep awe and reverence of you. This is hard work, harder than I ever imagined. Your daily trip reports have always been a highlight of my day; now I will see them in new light and appreciate them so much more. Thank you for your encouragement.