The Kaibab Plateau

Posted: March 28, 2019 | Author: Margaret | Read Time: 2 minutes

A wide view of a canyon landscape with steep, rugged rock walls on both sides and layered cliffs stretching into the distance. Sunlight illuminates parts of the valley floor, and a bright blue sky with scattered white clouds hangs overhead.

Drops of rain from the quick shower minutes before freckle the gravel road. That’s the thing about the Kaibab Plateau; the weather is constantly changing. If you blink at the wrong time, you’ll miss something spectacular. The smell of damp pollen, dirt, and the heavenly aroma of the ponderosas (a strong vanilla) combine into a spiral of scent, replacing the stale air from my lungs with a rich, earthy fragrance.

Golden sunlight peeks from behind purple-gray clouds. A hearty gust of wind flies by overhead but I’m sheltered by the pines. The crunch of gravel stops as I leave the road, preferring to explore the forest around me. Dips and climbs scatter the landscape. Needles litter the ground like discarded clothes from the trees. I walk down a small hill towards what I’m hoping will be a good spot to wait out the storm inside me.

A man and a woman walk along a nature path. There is a river to the right of them, and a mountain on the left.
Quietly, I sit myself down on a fallen tree, bark-less wood smooth under my hands as I brush away leaves, needles, and a few straggling ants. The wind has stopped now. An observant woodpecker perched nearby plays a dizzying rhythm just out of sight. Still, I remain on the log. The reddish bark on the surrounding pines comes to life as the clouds part completely.

The sun, like a friendly neighbor checking in, pokes through. Warmth on my face, a pair of gentle hands. Around me, the forest comes to life as birds gossip with one another. Small squirrels scamper through the dirt. My eyes are closed, but I can see the sun through my eyelids. Each breath I take is fresher than the last, each one filling my soul with serenity. They fill me more than any other breath I’ve ever taken.

The air is still cool from the rain earlier, and I can picture my cheeks, the tips of my ears, and my nose a pleasant pink. I stay as the grove, the sky, and the air transform around me. I’m the sun, the center of change. I stay until the woodpecker flies away. I rise from the tree, dust off my pants, and begin walking towards the cabin, and the felled log keeps its silence.

This article was published more than 3 years ago and might contain outdated information or broken links. As a result, its accuracy cannot be guaranteed.