West Desert Journal

Peace is in the canyon in clouds passing over massive sandstone and limestone ledges. All is quiet, far from city noise. The deep waters of the Rio Colorado fill the inner gorge as ravens plane the blue sky catching thermals of late winter air. Cloud and cliff shadows mix. In the next few hours private river runners will come around the bend and reach mile marker 187. We will shout hello to them and wave frantically. They’ll raise their oars and shout back, then continue their fourteen day journey to the bottom of the canyon to Lake Mead. I love Listening to the river rapids and feel lucky in this subliminal moment. The canyon never grows old or familiar. Being here every day has been one of my greatest blessings.