I'm writing to you today from the edge of a canyon, far enough from the edge but still close enough to make my mom uncomfortable. Of course, there's no service here of any kind, so if I make it back to town to post this evening, you'll know I didn't tumble endlessly down.
Chris is 10 yards away, jerry-rigging his monopod in to a tripod after misplacing the connected head for the latter. He's shooting a time lapse as a storm is rolling in across the canyon. It looks too graceful to be rain, though, maybe more of a falling fog. It is beyond beautiful.
It's also cool (relatively speaking) and breezy today. The overcast skies are a welcome change from yesterday's hot, relentless heat, which soared above 100 degrees as we made our way to Delicate Arch in the late afternoon - it's a fun 3-mile scramble up slick rock, but there is absolutely no shade.
Today we are a bit further up the road, at Canyonlands National Park. We are at around 6,000 feet above sea level, and the views rival the Grand Canyon. It's of another world to see the way the red land can drop off in to jagged edges, then plateau, and dive again, over and over...
We've only been in Utah 24 hours and I can't quite say everything has gone perfectly. We have been stunned by the heat. We couldn't find an open campsite last night. We have misplaced things, found them, and misplaced them again (edit: chris later found the tripod mount but now is missing his lens cap) But bit for bit, there is nothing regrettable about being here and seeing what we are seeing. The experience itself holds such greater weight than the details.
Chris is walking over with his camera, and a ten second rumble of near thunder agrees that it's time to head on.