It was the gentle hour of seven in the morning, when the sun has not yet risen and its soft light goes out into the land as a fine coat. The boy sat, waiting for the shuttle-bus that would bring him into Zion Canyon. He was willfully ignorant of what may lie ahead; he had heard rumors of the land’s splendor, and desired an honest impression. At last the coach arrived, and soon pulled through the gates of the park.
The view from inside the shuttle-bus was wanting. Canyon walls quickly rose above the window-frames. The boy somewhat cherished this feeling, standing at the edge of such knowledge. His original destination, the trail Observation Point, was shuttered to the public, for fear of falling rocks. He chose instead to step out at The Grotto and travel to Angel’s Landing.
The boy had taken but two dozen steps, enough to carry him across the road and toward the gentle river that breathed through the canyon, when his legs halted beneath him. He was struck motionless and dumb at the vastness of the red sandstone walls, and the lush garden of cottonwoods and grasses that grew about the river. He carried that wonder with him for the duration of his hike. For well over an hour the lad climbed switchbacks on the canyon wall, with eyes all the while fixed upon the sublime beauty of the canyon below.
The multitude of passers-by took pictures of the journey, as did he. But many of the others placed their faces within the frame, making odd faces and strange poses. The boy was puzzled. Why would they come all this way only to photograph themselves? Surely they already knew what they looked like.
As the switchbacks ended, the boy looked ahead at the final leg of the trail: a steep, daring ascent, with holding-ropes to keep travelers from falling one hundred stories into the red and green abyss. He looked on wistfully, for he had neither permit nor writ of passage to attempt this challenge. So he sat and watched a while, then, feeling the bite of envy, made his way down the trail.
He returned to the spot where he first held still and spent much time reading and writing and humming newborn melodies. Finally, his creativity sated, the boy rode the shuttle-bus to the Lodge, and quickly ate his fill at the restaurant. The rest of the day he spent reflecting upon his good fortune and the treasures of the canyon.
Sorry, everyone. Not sure what came over me. That was weird. Next up is the Narrows, the quintessential Zion experience. In the meantime, enjoy these pictures, which in absolutely no way capture the size and spirit of this place.
Okay… What are the characteristics of “the boy”? How old is he? How innocent is he? What profound effect did the scenery have on him? Did he connect in any way with the ghosts or spirits haunting this terrible beauty?
For that matter, a little more detail or metaphor of what you are describing would be helpful.
He goes back to the lodge and then eats? Boy, that’s lame!
I salute you trying to write a story about this, but you can do better.
Your pal,
The Ancient Editor
Jake — I hope you didn’t misunderstand my previous comment. You should remember that this was my gig when I worked at the radio station for six years: EDITING other people’s copy before it went out on the air. I do this sort of stuff reflexively. I’m not trying to find fault with what you wrote — just suggesting ways I think you can IMPROVE it.
This is why I’ve suggested you do more than just “see the sights” on your journey. If you’re keeping a journal of your travels, you should accumulate enough material for one heck of a novel or novella, should you so desire. That’s why it’s important to have as many discussions with the “locals” as you can. There’s a hell of a lot to learn out there, even if you disagree with them. It’s all a matter of EXPANDING your horizons.
Totally get it! Not dismissive, just discourse. That’s the great thing about a blog: everyone can contribute. I’m viewing this as a public journal/notebook, so my main goal is just getting experiences down on the proverbial page (so I can finally go to sleep).
I absolutely loved the way you wrote this commentary on Zion, Jake. It is such an overwhelmingly beautiful place that a special style helps to present what you experienced. Sort of an extension of the magic. Your continuation with it on Day 54 with some fooling around with the style made it even better. Keep doing what you are doin, Jake. I really enjoy it all! Love, Grandma
By the way, your pictures are outstanding!