The Canyon
Went for a walk to the far reaches of McKittrick Canyon yesterday in Guadalupe Mountains state park. The day was cool, the breezes constant and the beauty nearly overwhelming. The sawtooth maples used every color in their pallet from light gold to red to fiery orange. The madrones were full of iridescent red berries and the colors of their bare trunks ran from white to orange. The sun meanwhile played off the canyon walls, sparkled on the running water, and warmed us when we needed it.
We hiked to the Wallace Pratt cabin, sat on the porch, ate our lunches, touched the rough stone walls and wondered at the effort it took to get all that material back to that most desolate of places. We went on to the grotto with its rounded stalactites and stalagmites and then around the corner to the hunters line cabin. Along the way we passed slow walkers and fast walkers. We talked to some, talked to others, and had our pictures taken.
In the end the day lasted about six hours and we covered roughly seven miles. Our bodies ached but our souls felt full. At camp that evening we ate, had a drink, then sat and talked about what we’d seen and what we might see the next day. For my companion, it was his third trip to the Canyon. It was my first. It seems likely there will be more because the canyon will always be changing, just as we will always be changing, and there is no telling what sights there will be to see on our return. And I will be happy to add my steps to the well-trod paths of polished rocks that mark the way and discover whatever beauty nature might choose to display.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale