When my parents announced a few days before our February break that- surprise, surprise- we were visiting Arizona for the whole week, I was less than thrilled. In fact, I kept complaining and whining about it at first because I had a literal mountain of schoolwork to do (junior year of high school truly is an adventure). But despite my objections, we were soon sitting in our cramped economy seats, waiting for the hour-long flight to our destination.
One notable aspect of Arizona is the climate, which is completely different than what us privileged Californians experience. Immediately after exiting Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, the self-proclaimed “friendliest airport in the world,” everything was nice and sunny. The grasslands around us contrasted with the swirls of gold and rusty orange from the rocks that lay around. We even saw wild cacti dotting the landscape!
However, on our drive to our hotel in our bumpy, surprisingly clean rental car, the background quickly changed. Flagstaff, the city where we were headed, had SNOW, something that I had not experienced in a long time. My brother and I had lots of fun crunching on the never-ending expanse of white that blanketed the ground. We tried to form snowballs, but our parents quickly caught us and slapped the sloppy spheres of snow out of our hands, scolding us for our immaturity.
After a surprisingly peaceful night of sleep, we woke up early on an auspicious Monday to get ready for our visit to “Antelope Canyon.” Upon our arrival to the middle of nowhere, we were told at the welcome center that no bags or water bottles could be taken during the tour. While waiting for the tour guide, my brother and I got rather bored and started dragging our feet in the sand to create cool patterns. After a few excruciating minutes of waiting under the sweltering heat (thankfully there was a station with shade), we were told to mount the tour bus. The actual bus was rather unique, sort of like a truck with the cargo area in the back equipped with benches and rails for us to sit in. With three other families, we then took off to the long-anticipated Antelope Canyon!
The ride there was akin to a roller coaster: with large bumps and merciless turns, all of us were jostled and shoved around until we were smiling with equal parts exhilaration and fear. When we finally arrived at the canyon, most of us were out of breath from screaming. The looming sight of the canyon took the rest of the breath from our lungs. At that moment, I no longer thought that this was the “middle of nowhere.”
It was a large red structure made of rock, a little over a hundred feet high, with a crack carved in the middle. We were told that the rocks making up the canyon were millions of years old, but that the canyon itself was rather young, carved by seasonal floods and rains through natural erosion. Our tour guide, also the truck driver, briefly explained the history and geology of the location as he took us into the canyon.
The interior of the canyon truly was a sight to behold. We could see the layers of sediment piled on top of each other, somehow producing a smooth texture to the touch. It was rather dark inside, with the only source of light coming from the crack all the way at the top of the canyon. As we ventured deeper, I started to notice a pattern: humanity”s love for selfies.and photos. Every few seconds, our whole group stopped to wait for someone to take a photo. Even the tour guide seemed used to this; he was constantly showing us the best angles and filters to get the most picturesque images to set as our desktop backgrounds. As much as I was annoyed with how our tour was constantly getting delayed, I have to admit that I was not immune to the selfie pandemic: the canyon was simply too beautiful and awe-inspiring to ignore.
Leaving the canyon, we were almost blinded by the sudden rays of sunlight that floated down, contrasting with the darkness of the cavern. It was truly an experience that I will remember. No antelopes were seen, but we did experience a natural wonder.
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