Another chapter excerpt from my book Make Some Room: Powerful Life Lessons Inspired By an Epic 16-day Colorado River Rafting Trip Through Grand Canyon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 18: Lie in the grass and listen to the secrets it tells you. Smile with the flowers. Hug the trees.
Deep at the bottom of the Canyon, I was literally surrounded by jaw-dropping views. It was mesmerizing to look up and see the layers and layers of canyon walls and follow them upward as my eyes rose and rose and rose, seeking each wall beyond the next.
Looking at the variety of rocks that created those mile-high walls was beyond impressive. There are layers upon layers of rock with a dizzying array of formations, types of rock, colors, and textures.
And then there’s the water, which can change from green or blue to milk chocolate brown with a single rainstorm. The side rivers of Havasu and the Little Colorado are stained the most brilliant turquoise because of their travertine mineral content. As this water melds with the emerald green canyon water, I found myself literally breathless because of the beauty laid out in front of me. We were really grateful that no rainstorms turned our gorgeous green waters into a roiling froth of chocolate milk colored chaos.
The miracle of Grand Canyon is how she begs you to slow down and pay attention.
Twice during our trip, Nelson was visited by scorpions. The very first night, a large black one scampered across his stomach as he lay sleeping on the sand. Feeling something, he flipped his sleeping bag up with his knees. The scorpion flew in the air and landed near his head. As my husband rolled around to look at it, the scorpion reared up and made a screeching noise before Nelson grabbed his hat and flipped the insect into the bushes.
The second scorpion visitor was only discovered on the morning as Nelson was rolling up his sleeping pad. A very small, translucently yellow scorpion had managed to crawl under the pad. Nelson had no idea it was there. Had it been under there all night? The group gathered around to take a look, both admiring and fearing this small, odd creature.
Daytime found many of us joining up for side hikes to explore places with magical names like “Elves Chasm” (and to jump off those moss-covered ledges into the cool, inviting pool of green water below), to the grain mills high above the river at Nankoweap, and to tackle the strenuous hike up to Deer Creek (where we were treated to an incredible oasis of cool green at the top).
We also encountered (but did not touch) our Native American past as we hiked along walls decorated with pictographs from local tribes as well as signatures and company names from prospectors who lived, worked, and passed through Grand Canyon. We saw areas with huge bolts where the government considered adding additional dams for hydroelectric power, and we passed still-sacred Hopi salt mine cliffs near the water’s edge.
Each day was exciting as we had the opportunity to spy great horned sheep resting and grazing along the river banks or climbing high up on the Canyon hills and walls.
And night time. Oh, night time! As the sun began to set each evening, the heat would lift off our shoulders like a heavy wool blanket tossed aside. The colors would wow us to the point where we’d stop our activity to just stare; we were powerless to do anything beyond gazing at the colors while breathing in the cooler evening air. As night descended, the stars made their entrance as a brilliant, twinkling white quilt over our heads. We were dazzled by the sight of it.
Despite not wearing a watch and never knowing the time, I awakened each night around the same time. I’d wake up, slip on my glasses, and gaze at the Milky Way stretching across the sky. It was like a divine art show painted each night just for me.
And every morning just before the sun would rise, I would open my eyes, slip on my glasses, and see the bats overhead swooping and whirling as they caught their morning’s breakfast of gnats and flies and other winged bugs.
The point of my rhapsodic musings here? I was fully attuned to my surroundings. I was gobsmacked by the gifts and beauty of nature. I was connected deeply to the environment I was in. To me, these things are the point of being ALIVE.
Beyond the Canyon
Outside of my Grand Canyon experience, I find myself deeply in love with, and in awe of, nature. I will run outside to see a gorgeous sunset. I will stop and marvel at a brilliant rainbow. You will see me run around in the snow just feel the flakes on my face. I’ve been known to love sleeping in a tent out in a rainstorm.
Another immediate and easy way for me to connect with nature is through gardening. In fact, it’s a bit of a moving meditation for me. There’s something relaxing and very grounding for me pulling weeds, planting seeds, and nurturing something to grow.
Nature is healing for my spirit. Spending time each day lying in the grass and basking in the sun can be incredibly restorative (and a great source of Vitamin D). As a little girl, I used to wrap myself in a blanket and sit outside on our covered back patio just to watch it rain.
I discovered a deeper love of nature while rafting the American River, camping each summer with my family in California, always wanting to ride horses, discovering hiking as a teenager, and learning to backpack and kayak in my late 20s.
Nature is my happy place, where I go to recharge, relax, and rejuvenate.
If you’d like to indulge yourself in this same experience, might I invite you to consider joining me and my co-host Sylke Laine for the upcoming August 2024 Main Salmon River Slow Down? It’s 6 days and 5 nights rafting in Idaho. You can read all about the trip HERE.
Warmly,
Angie