Adventure 388: Page, AZ/Post B

We rode in bucking bronco two.

Our guide, Rosie, wasted no time showing us her tribe's treasure. First, she loaded us into the back of a four wheel drive heavy duty pickup, told us to buckle up two to a seat belt, and put the beast into gear. I'm sure she kept the roaring truck at the speed limit, but in the open air back, we felt jostled, blown, twisted, and turned (And that was just on the pavement). When we hit the soft sand on the way to the canyon, Rosie kept her foot on the gas since momentum was her friend in that deep soft, powdery sand. She jittered our bones over the washboards, living up to our old adage when the East side road to Priest Lake was gravel: two speeds-a bone jarring 45 or a plodding rumble bump at 20. Rosie chose 45 (As did most of us). We tumbled out of the truck, teeth chattering and stomachs churning,  to gaze at the mouth of Upper Antelope Canyon, a millions year old geological marvel that is still carved by weather every year. I can tell you, I wouldn't want to be inside during a flash flood. Rosie took enough time to describe the canyon, her pride beaming with each word. She took the time to take pictures of nearly everyone in our group. She showed us what her people had named certain shapes, moving us into shadowed spots to create the perfect angle. We saw George Washington, Abe Lincoln, Standing Bear, and the Navajo's Loving Heart. Following Rosie, we flowed nicely through the twists and turns. We craned our necks, heeded Rosie's warnings not to bump our noggins, and ogled at the light, the curves, the smooth sand walls on one side and the ribbed sand walls on the other. She showed us where the water forms whirlpools during a flood. She showed the debris which marked the high water mark of the previous years. She showed us (Mournfully) some of the graffiti damage people had done to the canyon back when it was open to the public. In short, Rosie impressed me with her charm, wit, personality, poise, and pride. The trip is also quite a departure for Judy and me. We rarely purchase "tourist" rides, but the C note we spent was worth every penny. We did little more today other than play cards and watch NCIS re-runs. According to a source provided by Congressman Nunes, I won every cribbage game--BIG LEAGUE, and I think you'll find some very interesting reports coming out in the near future as to my overall record on this trip, which is heretofore unblemished. I mean if you can't trust the Intelligence Committee Chairman's anonymous source, who can you trust? All I know is that I flatly deny any collusion between the cards, my less than gentlemanly behavior, or any attempts to deceive the Wily Cager. (INDEPENDENT COUNSEL NEEDED!) In fact, I believe that if I repeat this version of the story enough, at some point I'll start to believe it. Won't you? If not, at least believe in all seriousness the fact that life is good, especially today.

 Here we are. Fresh faced faithfuls ready for a fast ride.

 After about three miles of sand dashing, we arrived at the opening to Upper Antelope Canyon.

 Rosie, working as hard as any WWII riveter. 

 While Rosie said the color is best in June when the sun shines directly down into the canyon, there was still plenty of awe inspiring color.

 Every ten years or so, there is enough flood water to fill the entire 120 feet of the canyon.

 Rosie took this selfie of us. The stick above is evidence of the most recent high water mark.

 This is the Healing Heart.

 Here we look a lot like missionaries gazing at God's wonder.

 He's truly the light of the world.

 I made a poor attempt to capture the ribs in the sandstone walls.

 Here we screamed, "Go Zags!"

 Rosie called this formation the "Standing Bear".

This is the back end of the quarter mile canyon. It's here that the flood waters enter.

The entry is so tight, it forms a sort of dam. This wash at times becomes a small lake that fills, swirls, and flows through the canyon. The water rushed through in less than four hours.