Hoodoo Voodoo: the Magic of Bryce
"Haven't you ever seen pictures of Bryce Canyon?" I asked Amy as she pulled the Sunfire away from the National Park entrance booth.
"I don't think so."
I quickly flipped over the park map that the ranger had just given us to hide the photo on its cover. "Well, we'll see what your reaction is, then."
We drove through semi-arid pine forest typical of higher altitudes in the dry west. No hint of anything like a canyon could be seen from the road until we turned into the parking area at Sunset Point. Then you could see the edge, but what was below it was out of sight.
We found a convenient handicapped parking space and I pulled the wheelchair from the trunk. Amy pulled her broad-brimmed straw hat firmly onto her head: the sun was shining fiercely.
"Ready?" We walked up the sloping sidewalk to the viewing area at the edge of the cliff.
"Wow!" she said. "I didn't know...I had no idea anything like this existed!"
Below our feet the montane forest vanished into an alien landscape of eroded sandstone. Sheer walls of striated red and pink rose from the floor of the valley, carved by water, ice, and wind into corrugated castles with freeform windows and towers topped with balancing stone.
I left Amy alone (with hundreds of other tourists) at the viewpoint to traipse a ways down into the canyon along the Navajo Loop trail. As I descended, the Silent City began to rise above me, and on the other side, the hoodoos stood tall in singles and in groups gazing patiently down at me and the myriad others on the trail. Here, Thor's Hammer looking like a stern stone face on a pedestal. There, the narrow pinnacle that reached toward the sky even after being struck by lightning some years ago.
Amy and I moved along to Inspiration Point, then to Bryce Point, where the entire north portion of the canyon can be seen stretching away down the valley. Just to the left of the viewpoint, the white sandstone of the upper element was carved into a city of arches and towers called the Grotto. Condors soared above the bare landscape, and up on the trail, chipmunks bit the hands that tried to feed them.
"I could sit here for hours," Amy said.
Thor's Hammer from the Navajo Loop Trail
Amy looking over the Grotto at Bryce Point
"I don't think so."
I quickly flipped over the park map that the ranger had just given us to hide the photo on its cover. "Well, we'll see what your reaction is, then."
We drove through semi-arid pine forest typical of higher altitudes in the dry west. No hint of anything like a canyon could be seen from the road until we turned into the parking area at Sunset Point. Then you could see the edge, but what was below it was out of sight.
We found a convenient handicapped parking space and I pulled the wheelchair from the trunk. Amy pulled her broad-brimmed straw hat firmly onto her head: the sun was shining fiercely.
"Ready?" We walked up the sloping sidewalk to the viewing area at the edge of the cliff.
"Wow!" she said. "I didn't know...I had no idea anything like this existed!"
Below our feet the montane forest vanished into an alien landscape of eroded sandstone. Sheer walls of striated red and pink rose from the floor of the valley, carved by water, ice, and wind into corrugated castles with freeform windows and towers topped with balancing stone.
I left Amy alone (with hundreds of other tourists) at the viewpoint to traipse a ways down into the canyon along the Navajo Loop trail. As I descended, the Silent City began to rise above me, and on the other side, the hoodoos stood tall in singles and in groups gazing patiently down at me and the myriad others on the trail. Here, Thor's Hammer looking like a stern stone face on a pedestal. There, the narrow pinnacle that reached toward the sky even after being struck by lightning some years ago.
Amy and I moved along to Inspiration Point, then to Bryce Point, where the entire north portion of the canyon can be seen stretching away down the valley. Just to the left of the viewpoint, the white sandstone of the upper element was carved into a city of arches and towers called the Grotto. Condors soared above the bare landscape, and up on the trail, chipmunks bit the hands that tried to feed them.
"I could sit here for hours," Amy said.
Thor's Hammer from the Navajo Loop Trail
Amy looking over the Grotto at Bryce Point
