Sinuous

 

 Pay close attention.  

  This place is a museum of time, vibrantly on display. Like that second hand rotating around endlessly. Always progressing forward. Every tick echoes down through here. Entertain the constant that is time. It's one thing to read about it, another to be part of one of those ticks that constantly reverberate down through these places.

  Time is always on display. Like an ancient score board, markers from the past paint these walls and gather collectively on the floor, yet so subtle, easy to completely miss the point of why these places are here. This canyon has been here your whole life, quietly waiting for you. Most places simple move forward without you. 

Today, right now, you and the canyon converge.

  Time is information, always coming at us. In many forms, and from all directions. Over time the volume becomes too loud, so you reach over and turn the volume down.  A little more over here, a little more over there. When you are trying to focus on other things, the sound just becomes noise. Sensory overload backs everything up, you cannot give the amount of attention every detail life asks from you. You cannot notice all the fish passing by when you're trying to tread water. So you turn the sound down more and dilute the world. Let the fish pass unattended. You're supposed to notice the fish

But now? The world has slowed. It's quiet here, What is that sound? The volume is low, but I recognize this song. It's familiar. I want to reach over and turn it up. The hum coming from speakers is a welcome sound as I wait for the chorus to come through.

  It's just a whisper right now. Hard to hear really, but keep listening. What do you hear? It's not much at first. Just foot steps....But now that I hear foot steps. I'll Follow it now.

  The sound of gravel against my shoes. It's echoing off the canyon walls now. Distances become apparent now. The limit of how fast sound can travel is visible as it moves back and forth through the walls. Reverberations are moving through me now. Moving and travelling these reverberations gather and absorbs time. Slowing down and becoming more exaugurated. Like keepers of time, these walls want to slow everything down. I want to give into that feeling.

 Your voice travel's far down here. Every bend in the walls distorts and alters the sounds just a little more. I can hear this place making the sounds I give it, making it its own. I give a little, the canyon gives a little more back. A feedback loop that is exponential. 

  I'm stepping over rocks. Making my way down the canyon. Nothing is flat, nothing is straight. I'm paying close attention to where I can step next. Everything wants to slow you down. Moving quickly is the ultimate revolt. Your house, your car, your job. That is the biggest revolt. Your god damn lawn. You asshole. You haven't realized it until now....You've been silently revolting against these places. Too much order.

Are you distracted enough yet?

  Movement should not be easy. Nothing is easy. Nothing is paved. But your body wants to figure out the puzzles right now. Like a kid in a playground. No harm in playing on the rocks now. Packs sliding against sandstone. Chossy holds. Awkward body placements. You're supposed to be aware of your limits here. Feel the extent of your reach. The pull of gravity. That great constant. Fair to everything. I admire that.

 But you, you're a sharp knife in hot butter. A perfect tool to cut through these place. Unlike the violent water that periodically moves through here, you are a meek visitor.  You do not need to move quickly and try to sculpt these walls. You simply are built to move through it. A Voyeur, visitor. A humble tourist. Eager to learn more. What can be learned from here? Well a lot...

 Rocks are hard. 

 So many questions bubble to the surface...How often does the water move through this place? But when it does, does it ever fill it to the brim? What does that look like? Questions that bubble up to the surface.

I want to know what that smells like. 

 I bet the water always has the same color when its that angry. The color that comes off the Navajo Bench when the sky gets dark enough must paint this place a shade of angry gray. Time tells me I could not apricate the times that this has taken place.  But when this does finally take place. When the rain finally has its way. When enough moisture is gathered up from the Pacific and moved across the continent to be released here. The air will be cool, the sky will be dark. The aroma from the ruins of the cretaceous will be released and move down through here. Pulling the Entrada along with it. Fill it up to  the brim. What a site to see. The sound or rocks melting away into puddy.   

  How much wider did this place get. How much deeper? An inch? The CFS of the Colorado in a 20ft wide slot for 30 minutes. A once in a lifetime flood.  I want to see the tally marks on the walls from these events that have taken place. Would the marks run out of space on these walls? I want to know these questions.

I've babbled enough, lets spend more time looking around...

  At times we avoided the dry falls. We found animal trails to lead us around. With packs weighing close to fifty pounds, It was nice to leave the harness and rope behind and take the scenic route.

One must poke his head around and gather his place in the universe. What an anchor to have.

 

  Linda removed her pack, sat down, took off her shoes and leaned against the walls. A smile afixed to her face as we gathered around. I was wondering how deep the sediment was here. The solid canyon floor we have been walking on had disappeared. The walls are much shorter now. How deep the canyon was below I spent wondering. The feeling of being 20 feet above the solid canyon floor with nothing but smooth wall to grab a hold of made me uneasy for a moment. The impression of solid ground below my feet is a lie. An illusion. Who will be out competed here,? Who will outlast the other? The rim or the floor? Who will advance? One evening will rewrite this place, change it completely. If I visit again, will it look the same? For the time being, perhaps my lifetime. The canyon is not getting deeper here. It is getting wider. Some days just carve into you.

Suddenly my inbox is completely irrelevant.

  Time for a brief gander around. Let's see what we missed, go for another walk. Besides the light is splendid. 

  The remains of migrating dune fields painted the lines on the walls here. Petrified and entombed for now. While these were being formed, it is hard to imagine a completely different scene that would take place. What will come after these dune fields? Today, I know what that answer is. But when viewed from the past? My imagination can run wild. I would not have guessed that one day I would wonder through a thin break in these ever changing sand dunes. One day they would be completely solidified into rock. Buried under countless oceans and inland seas, to once again be touched by the sun. And me, wandering though a narrow crack in the rock, down to a man made lake.

...To be continued.