The Natural Wonders of Western America
By: Xindi Liu
For those who are strangers to the land of canyons, deserts, and mountains, Western America alludes a sense of raw mystery — from the tales of cowboys to the charm of films portraying the distinct culture against breathtaking backdrops. So, when I first stepped out of the airport in Las Vegas and saw the scenes that I have only been exposed to on a screen, I knew the next eight days would make a memory for myself.
After staying one night in Las Vegas, my parents and I journeyed on the highway to our first stop — Zion National Park. The drive there was a bit long and tedious, and I found myself falling asleep. To my astonishment, I woke up inside a ring of majestic mountains. Like the guardians of Olympus, they stood over us, spectacular and magnificent. After we took the necessary map at the visitor center and identified our destinations, we drove out again to go deeper in the canyon. The wind and erosion had painted the scenery stunning shades of orange, white, red and brown over millions of years; they had even left unique marks carved into the rocks. We parked the car and were ready for a trail-walk, one of the most important activities in the national parks. On our first hike, we explored a mesmerizing cave shaped like an open eye facing the valley — a portal into the heavens. The trail had no protection on one side most of the time — it was narrow and slippery, and water could be seen drifting down the cracks; if someone tripped, the fate waiting would be miserable. After a trek of apprehension, we eventually reached the end of the trail, and it all paid off. The entire canyon was under our feet, as if a Titan splitted open the mountains using an ax. The cars were miniscule like ants, moving slowly on the huge elbow-shape turns. The shades of one side of the cliff were tattooed on the other side, so the sun, another great artist of the universe, made the canyon into a harmony of Yin and Yang. The real uncanny workmanship was indeed nature.
Our next adventure lay in Bryce National Park, with its famous geographical feature known as hoodoos. Walking inside these exquisite stones was an once-in-a-lifetime experience for our family. It was simply thrilling, exclamatory, and unforgettable. Wanting to capture every second of this beauty, we took pictures every few meters. We were only able to tremble and stare at other bold tourists who had the courage to stand at the edge for beautiful photos, while our awe and fear of danger meant we did not even think of stepping a single step forward for ourselves. As we meandered along, a small interlude happened — we got lost in the valley. Ultimately, we found a farther way up from the back of the mountains, where more snow covered the tracks. When we were walking there, it felt like we were the only living people in the world, too tiny to be noticed, compared with everything blocking in front of us. A Chinese proverb jumped into my mind when my eyes got a bit sore from the shining snow under the midday sun, translating to, “No one can be seen in the empty mountain, but the sound of people’s voices can be heard.” The day ended with the snow storms, and we left in the late afternoon right in time. When we came back the next morning, just knowing the view would make an impression after the snow, the hoodoos were like orange mushrooms growing out of the snow. Most of them were covered in snow on their heads, as if they wore hats to protect them from the cold. The scene was another level of picturesque.
On the third day, we visited two water bodies. We first stopped at the Horseshoe Bend. As the name signified, it was meant to be a famous must-go point for tourists. I didn’t have the courage to stand by the edge or jump in a pit, but wherever I was more certain I would be safe, whenever I was standing on top of a cliff or a rock and looking down and far to the waters, I always felt so ready to sing the song Circle of Life just like Rafiki in Lion King, or the little Simba who had the opportunity to look over the savanna. Only a few minutes of drive away, inside the Glen National Park, Lake Powell awaited. The afternoon wind was colder than it should be, bringing shivers down my spine. I got more distracted by the weather to a degree that the grand lake couldn’t capture my attention that much anymore.
The next day, here came the highly anticipated Antelope Canyon, the perfect combination of historical significance to the indigenous native Americans with natural beauty that didn’t exist just a short time ago. It had a transcended meaning for everyone who visited. The valley, only stretching for a few hundred meters, was surrounded by wave-like sandstones, leaving only a thin strip to see out to the blue sky. Everywhere inside the canyon could have been a wallpaper of any cell phone settings. When out of curiosity, I slowly put my hand on the “body” of the sandstone wall, tiny particles of sand were left on my fingers. They shone under the sneaking-in sunlight, sending a welcome message from nature that came to look for me through the river of time and tide.
Probably the “greatest” always had to wait to be slowly revealed. The Grand Canyon, the paramount site that everyone wanted to see when coming to the West, was our last natural park to be visited. We were chasing the setting sun on the expressway. My mom grew really anxious, afraid that we wouldn’t be able to catch it on time besides the canyon. When we eventually shut down the car in a parking lot, one of the many inside the park, I jumped out of the car immediately, followed by my mom. We rushed to the observation platform, praying for the paintbrush of nature to wait for us, its devout believers, to actually be given in charity of a glimpse of the marvelous spectacle. Turned out that maybe the sun-god heard us, we were awed by the bright yellow color of its gown and the light pink that was trailing behind. The next morning, we witnessed the entire process of its coronation. As the sun was slowly rising from the back of the cliffs, we tried our best to maintain the steadiness of our hands, because we didn’t want to miss a single blink of the pageantry in our videos or pictures. The best parts of the canyon were exhibited in front of us. As we looked down to the Colorado River in the far end and the meandering trails to reach there, it seemed like we could picture all the hikers walking on them over the summer, trying to challenge their extremity. The alpenstocks, the tents, the backpacks, the meaning of being with nature.
As we were driving back to Las Vegas, to the luxury and extravagance and gold, we also stopped at the meaningful Hoover Dam, the engineering project of great techniques, and the Valley of Fire, a smaller-in-size but fancier-in-scenic state park. Getting on the plane and leaving the west was reluctant but also relieving. I would need some time on my own to savor the trip and exclaim over the wonders of nature everytime I think back on it.
Xindi Liu is a sophomore double-majoring in Biometry & Statistics and Environmental Engineering. Her favorite place to travel is London, the United Kingdom, because of all the shows and movies she has seen, this place has a special attraction to her culturally.
