Captivated Me

captivate : v. to attract and hold the attention or interest of, as by beauty or excellence; enchant.

Tag: arizona

October 31, 2020

Day 5: And I am Grateful.

I wake up after the sun this morning, heart feeling the ache of having to leave this natural wonder that has felt so much like home the past few days. But before I check out, I go fill my old thermos with hot water at the lodge, mix in my instant coffee, and take a final walk along the rim.

It is a gorgeous, sun-drenched morning. Cool temperatures in the 40s, a person here and there walking casually to and fro, and the north face of the canyon looking ever-so-fetching as the sunrays paint the walls. I am grateful. A year ago, I’d have never imagined I’d be here.

Life changed in a way I hoped it never would a few years ago, a very painful way. But the path since has brought deeper healing, release, adventure, hope, relationship, and joy than I ever knew before. It brought new hobbies like backpacking the Superior Hiking Trail and taking dance classes and canoeing and portaging with friends through the Boundary Waters. It built courage and faith in the face of threat and brokenness. And it brought me here, checking off one of my highest bucket list items, filled with glee and peace beyond measure. And I am grateful.

I see deer and mules along my walk through Grand Canyon Village, and I take my time admiring the dense woods and the rustic buildings dotted throughout the grounds. One final look out over the rim, and I return to my room to turn to the next page of this trip. Belongings packed, I then load up the car and plug Doe Mountain into Google Maps. I spend the drive reflecting, humbled, thankful as I make my way back through Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona.

Doe Mountain boasts a short, ascending hike with a flat, expansive summit and incredible 360-degree views of the surroundings. It shares its trailhead with many other famed hikes in the area, and it shares a road with more hikes still. This particular climb is quick, and I encounter several friendly fellow hikers along the way. But on arriving at the top, there is ample space to chart your own path and enjoy the many vistas that await you!

I meander along the cacti and other flora, taking plenty of photos, impressed at the balanced rock piles that others have stacked high, and delighting in brief visits with other hikers along the way. One couple also hails from Minnesota, and we exchange stories of home. After about 45 minutes of exploring the summit, I tag along with a group of four sweet co-hikers – all local to Arizona – who quickly feel like friends. We talk about Coronavirus and careers, hobbies and other nice hikes in the area (which they blessedly share recommendations for). They most highly recommend Brins Mesa trail – an out-and-back trail with less foot traffic but with spectacular views and short mileage; a perfect distance for the remaining daylight. They mention that if I hike swiftly, I could also extend the hike to include Soldier Pass and Cibola Trail as a loop back to the trailhead. They caution that I might run out of sun if I choose that route, but that the views are matchless. We say our goodbyes after a lovely conversation, and I thank God for their kindness.

I set my GPS toward Brins Mesa Trailhead. Excited by the challenge of completing the loop, I quicken my steps, in perpetual wonder of the sights all around me. Canyons and trees and mesas and clear skies for days. The sun is falling in the sky, and I feel a tickle of fear at the thought of not completing the trail before sundown. I keep steady pace and decide for good to try the full loop – When in Rome, I suppose. I fork left at the junction for Soldier Pass Trail and hike on.

There are caves somewhere along Soldier Pass, I learn from two fellow hikers as they head toward the direction that I came from. They were just exploring the caves and elatedly share that they could not recommend them more highly. But they say the caves a) are a fairly challenging upward climb, and b) would add another 25 minutes or so to the hike. I do some mental math – If I hurry, I can make it and still finish the hike in time. The spur trail upward is hard to find, but myself and two other hikers locate it together. And we climb. And scramble. And climb some more. Over trees and up slippery, rocky slants. And then alas – We made it! And oh. my. word. I cannot believe my eyes.

The caves are lit up in golden orange as the setting sun shines on them. They frame a view of trees and mesas, like looking out a rocky window. Vertically upward, they create a slot canyon toward the light blue sky. We stand in awe.

I explore and breathe in the views, then with an eye on the time, I realize it is important to start making my way down-trail. Fast. I carefully descend the slippery slopes, then once back on the trail, I start to run. My aching, injured knee holds up well to the task, and I am grateful. I lose my way for about 1/4 mile, but re-route and find the trail again, running past the Seven Sacred Pools and the Devil’s Kitchen – two iconic stops along Soldier Pass. I gaze with eyes wide – Somehow, the golden mesas continue to increase in golden-ness the closer the sun draws to the horizon. The trees appear lined with similar gilded flecks as the sun shines through them. I find the junction for Cibola Trail, and I feel like I’m rounding third base headed for home. At last, as the sun disappears and the rocky structures around me start to fade to a pretty grey-purple, I get back to my car and ready for my final night in Arizona.

A local pizza joint called Picazzo’s Healthy Italian Kitchen stood out to me on my drive to Brins Mesa. I place an order online and go to pick up my order, and I find that it is open for socially-distanced dining. I ask if I may sit and eat my meal, and the host graciously accepts. I find my place at the bar and joke back and forth with the bartender who kindly offers coffee after hearing that I have a long night of driving ahead. I thank him. The pizza is amazing, and not just because I am ravenous from the day of hiking. And the staff are so friendly and welcoming! I would 100% recommend this place to anyone visiting Sedona and looking for a unique slice.

Around 8:30 PM, I leave the restaurant and type in the address for my final activity of the night – A stargazing tour! Sedona Stargazing is a company of knowledgeable astronomers who lead telescopic stargazing nights just outside of town. This works well given Sedona’s designation as an International Dark Sky Community, meaning there are policies surrounding the timing and type of lighting used in homes and businesses so as to avoid ambient light radiating to the sky at night. This means optimal stargazing conditions!

I arrive and meet the other six guests in attendance for the event, and we all get situated with our telescopes. The next 90 minutes are filled with stars and constellations and nebulae and meteors and moons and planets, and I am in heaven. There is something about the night sky that reminds me how wonderfully small I am and how beautifully vast God is.

The night comes to a close, and I drive the remaining two hours to Phoenix where I will nap before my early morning flight home. More meteors traverse the sky overhead as I drive. And again and again, I am grateful.

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October 30, 2020

Day 4: Adventures in Page.

I wake up at 2AM, somehow feeling refreshed and ready for the three and a half hour drive ahead of me. I am hoping to make it to Page by sunrise, and with road closures directly east of the Grand Canyon, the trip will take around one hour longer than the usual two and a half hours.

I get ready quickly, as if I’m running late, then step out into the chilled early morning. I stop and take a breath – a million stars twinkle overhead. As I pull away from the lodge, a family of five elk traverse the road in front of me, highlighted by the front beams of the car as they cross. Unbothered, they walk gracefully and calmly. I watch them in awe. I wait a few moments to see whether additional relatives will join them from the direction they came from. Then I drive on.

I drive south through Kaibab National Forest, east through Coconino National Forest – meeting two more elk along the way – and then back north once I arrive in Flagstaff. I meet no cars on the road for the first hour and a half of the journey. (Granted, it is three o’clock in the morning on a Thursday. Who in their right mind would be up at this time?) My route takes me a very short distance on historic route 66, and I start to notice hills spanning along the highway north of Flagstaff. The slopes are gently but forebodingly highlighted by the soft moon. A small wildfire is seen along the route, lighting the sky in smoky orange. As I drive on, the hills seem to continue for miles.

I arrive at the Horseshoe Bend trailhead two minutes shy of its opening at 5:30 AM. One car pulls in directly ahead of me, and it happens to be the attendant who is there to admit cars to the trailhead parking lot. She moves the barricades, and myself along with one other car that has since arrived drive ahead. I pay the $10 admission and exchange smiles with the kind worker who shares that conditions were perfect for the upcoming sunrise this morning. “Make sure to hike out with your headlamp!”, she says. “The drop-off sneaks up on you, and is hard to see before the sun comes up.” Noted.

As I pull into a parking lot, I look at the sky overhead and see a sharp, bright streak of light flash across the sky. It comes and goes in less than one second. A beautiful shooting star to start the hike. I lift a prayer, feeling seen and delighted by what feels like a gift from above. Two other cars pull into the parking lot, and we each find our way to the path.

I hike the mile-long trail and start to see a deep, dark, arching crevice in the ground. I can’t make out the details within, at least not yet. All I can see are vague structures of charcoal and navy along the ground with the faintest trace of dawn in the far distance. The morning is cold, and even though I am layered like an onion, the chill soaks in deeply. I cannot wait for the sun to rise and warm the day! Stars still populate the sky above, and I am one of four attendants facing west to witness the show.

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, a ribbon of orange is illuminated at the horizon line as the sun begins to awaken behind us. As the ribbon widens, crawling toward us along the ground, a shade of powder blue gradually extends upward from where the ground meets the sky, drowning out the starlight with daylight. For six hours, I stand there, walking along the ledge as shades of pink and orange and purple evolve along the ground accompanied overhead by blues and yellows. The Colorado River becomes more visible, defined as the sun rises and exposes its contours. And for hours, I watch the colors change, the people come and go, two tiny kayakers braving the river. A woman with panda drums carries out a live meditation on one of the rocky overlooks. A goldendoodle named Hazel comes to say hello. But most of my time is spent staring at the riverbend as shadows waltz along the walls of the canyon.

Hundreds of photos later, I hike back to my car in the warm sunshine. The sky is screaming blue, the earth is vibrant orange. The land around the bend is flat overall, but with small ripples as if a wavy water surface has been petrified. My stomach is grumbling with hunger, so I sit in my car and eat my lunch – A turkey wrap, granola bar, and apple. I drink some water and remember the name of a sweet coffee shop I had read about the night before that I think is nearby on North Navajo Drive. Coffee sounds like an excellent decision right about now. I turn the ignition, then I turn left out of the Horseshoe Bend parking lot, following signs toward downtown Page. I twist through unfamiliar roads until I find North Navajo Drive. As I continue along, I come upon a small strip mall and see the sign: LP Espresso! I park, secure my mask on my face, and walk inside. The spacious café has an eclectic atmosphere, with beautiful artwork along the walls featuring the same orange earth – blue sky dichotomy that I spent time enjoying this morning combined with quirky word art. I order a vanilla latte and almond croissant, then scoot back outside into the sunshine.

I have two hours to enjoy before my next adventure, so I make my way to the Carl Hayden Visitor Center with my coffee. I spend a few moments looking out over Glen Canyon Dam, and my eyes trace the azure waters of Lake Powell bound up behind the impressive wall. I rest and reflect on the day so far – the sweetness of a shooting star, the beauty of a riverbend, the hearty coffee in my hands, the sunrise, the warm rays. I am grateful.

After walking along the short paths around the visitor center, I set course for Glen Canyon Dam Overlook, a short five-minute drive away. This is a small but mighty park with rocky steps descending to another spectacular view of the dam. From this vantage point, rather than a view of Lake Powell, I can see the Colorado coursing southwest downstream from the dam. I sit on the rocky ledges at the overlook which have been warmed by the autumn sun, enjoying the views a moment longer. Then, I pile back in the Eclipse and make way toward Page Municipal Airport.

The airport is nearly vacant when I arrive. Very few cars rest in the parking lot, and no passengers are present inside, only employees. I again secure my mask, cross the entrance toward the counter designated “Grand Canyon Airlines”, and I check in for my next adventure. A helicopter ride.

I am one of three scheduled passengers sharing a six-seat helicopter for a 20 minute ride over Lake Powell this afternoon. An orientation video plays, reviewing the safety specifications for the helicopter, and I cannot believe I am about to ride in one. I meet the pilot and the two other passengers, and we get situated, spaced out and strapped in the helicopter. I am in the front, feet from the outside, feeling as if I am in a bubble that is getting ready to fly. We start to rise from the ground and everything feels weightless.

“You’re living, and that’s a good thing.”

My mom said these words to me two nights ago. A reminder of how God moves and heals and loves us to life through the trials and storms we encounter on our journey. A reminder of His unbridled grace extended toward me and others. A reminder that no matter what happens to us, we have a choice as to how we respond to it. A reminder that it is not selfish, but instead important and wise and fruitful to pursue rest. This is hard to stomach, coming from a society and a profession where self-care is not a built-in rule and instead has to be fought for. And after over a year of processing through such things, what a blessing that my heart feels as weightless as this helicopter ride. U2 plays on the headset: It’s a beautiful day. Don’t let it get away. My eyes water for the umpteenth time with joyful, grateful tears.

I enjoy every minute of the tour, thank the pilot profusely afterward, and stop at one more park in Page as the sun begins to tuck itself in. A few more deep breaths, then I hop in the car and begin the journey back to the Grand Canyon. This turns into a 5 hour drive involving a detour (i.e. period of time that I was very lost) through the beautiful Navajo reservation as a orange-purple sunset unfolds, and subsequently onto a deep sandy fire road in a desertland with no cell service where I nearly get the rental car stuck. Miraculously, I meet three kind people at interval along the way who I am convinced are angels, all directing me back to the correct highway. The rest of the way is smooth – full of acoustic hits, prayers of gratitude, and phone calls to family.

I chuckle as I reflect on the last 20 hours. Today was an adventure. And I am exhausted and delighted and spent. Tomorrow is my last full day in Arizona, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store.

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