This past year we traveled a lot of places, Maine, the Southwest, Hawaii...one of the things Norm enjoys photographing are sunrises and sunsets, and so do I. I used to get up early with him each day, but last year in Maine, I told him, "No more switchbacks before breakfast." After that, I slept in while he drove around Acadia looking for the best places to take a sunrise shot.
One of my favorite places for a sunrise is Bryce Canyon. Of course that means getting up well before sunrise so that I could find a place at Sunrise Point to watch the sunrise. In the cold, I waited and waited, watching the colors of the sky change as the light permeated the darkness and the shadows changed. Everyone oohed and aahed as the sun rose and finally the golden ball broke above the horizon. Within minutes, Sunrise Point was deserted, but I stayed around and discovered that after the sunrise, the real show begins.
As the light filters through the canyon, the hoodoos take on a translucency, they seem to glow from the inside. I felt that the people who had left, missed the show. Sure they were part of the main event, but they missed the spectacular.
Cadillac Mountain in Maine has a wonderful sunset. Again, everyone arrives well before sunset to get the best spot to view the descent of the sun. And as soon as it is down, they all disappear into their cars. But once the sun is down, the real show begins as the reflected light changes colors, yellow, to orange, pinks and purples, a palate of glorious colors reflecting off the clouds.
In our lives we experience lots of main events, birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, trips...the time up to the main event is filled with anticipation and excitement. But the excitement gets lost in the day to day normalcy of life that follows.
So what can we do? Having a big event? Enjoy the time before it, revel in the excitement, set aside the fears. When it is done, bask in the specialness of the event. What went well? What was special? What was humorous? Hang onto the event for just a little bit longer, there may be a surprising, wonderful continuation that enhances the main event.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Canyon Overlook
Last fall Norm and I spent time in Zion Canyon, Utah. We had a wonderful time and did a number of hikes, some difficult, some easier than others. We drove up Route 9, following the switchbacks and entered the 1.1 mile Zion-Mt. Caramel Tunnel. We missed the parking for the Overlook Trail and traveled a few miles before finding a place to turn around and return to the Trail Head for the Canyon Overlook, a 100' elevation climb. The weather cooperated, neither too hot nor too cold but we took our hat and gloves just in case.
The first stretch of the hike involved a series of switchbacks. A few steps and a a railing helped to make the steep section doable. Then it leveled out for a while. We soon found ourselves walking along the canyon wall. We crossed a wooden bridge, 800 feet below us, we caught glimpses of Lower Pine Creek. I was glad for the railings on either side of the bridge. We took a break in a wide cavern before proceeding on.
While resting in the cavern, a lady came and pointed to an area ahead of us. "That's the roughest part. There are a couple of other narrow areas, but they have handholds."
Okay, I had come this far, I might as well go for it. We arrived at the narrow section. It was less than a foot wide, on one side the canyon wall, on the other, the drop to Lower Pine Creek. I hugged as close to the canyon wall as I could and carefully crossed. "Whew! That was done." I cheerfully pressed on.
We came to the next narrow section, about a foot wide, around a bend with a downward slope on the other side. I looked for the promised handholds and didn't find any. After a deep breath I shimmied around the bend and continued on. When I reached the third narrow section, again around a bend, I began to complain to Norm.
I had a decision to make. Turn back or move forward. I had come so far, I just couldn't bring myself to cross back over those narrow areas and go back to the car in defeat. I stopped complaining and walked on.
We reached the summit. The beautiful view could take one's breath away. But not me. I took a quick look and sat on a rock while Norm scrambled over the rocks trying to find the best picture.
I struggled. I did not want to go back down. Would it be possible to have a helicopter come and rescue me? Those three narrow sections terrified me. Sure I made it up, but I dreaded the return. I couldn't enjoy where I was because of what I feared lay ahead.
I thought of the song, "Mountain Top" by Amy Grant and understood completely the desire to stay on the top of the mountain. Walking with the Lord has its ups and downs and walking through the valley can be rough, illness, issues with family and friends, failures and expectations of ourselves and others. But the dread of the future can keep us from enjoying what we have.
As I waited for Norm, several groups of people arrived. They commented on the beauty and eventually I walked to the fence and studied the view. Someone had left a love lock on the fence. I guess it's a European tradition of lovers to signify undying love.
It truly was a great view of the Canyon, Route 9 snaked up the side of the Canyon like a shiny black ribbon. I watched cars wait to enter the tunnel. Must be an RV in the tunnel. Sure enough, soon an RV exited and the cars began to move. A mist began to waft up the canyon and Norm said, "Let's go. We don't want to walk down in the mist."
The trip down was not as bad as I thought. I only froze at two of the sections, I didn't even recognize the third. I stopped in the cavern where the lady had given me the heads up on the trail. Usually on the way down I will say to others, "It's rough, but worth it." I couldn't encourage this time. I've been on harder hikes, steeper, narrower ledges, but for some reason this one spooked me.
I don't want to go through life fearing what lies ahead. Sure there are going to be tough times, and there will be paths I don't want to walk. But I want to take time each day to enjoy the pleasures that God sends my way. To set aside the fear of the future rejoice in the Lord.
The first stretch of the hike involved a series of switchbacks. A few steps and a a railing helped to make the steep section doable. Then it leveled out for a while. We soon found ourselves walking along the canyon wall. We crossed a wooden bridge, 800 feet below us, we caught glimpses of Lower Pine Creek. I was glad for the railings on either side of the bridge. We took a break in a wide cavern before proceeding on.
While resting in the cavern, a lady came and pointed to an area ahead of us. "That's the roughest part. There are a couple of other narrow areas, but they have handholds."
Okay, I had come this far, I might as well go for it. We arrived at the narrow section. It was less than a foot wide, on one side the canyon wall, on the other, the drop to Lower Pine Creek. I hugged as close to the canyon wall as I could and carefully crossed. "Whew! That was done." I cheerfully pressed on.
We came to the next narrow section, about a foot wide, around a bend with a downward slope on the other side. I looked for the promised handholds and didn't find any. After a deep breath I shimmied around the bend and continued on. When I reached the third narrow section, again around a bend, I began to complain to Norm.
I had a decision to make. Turn back or move forward. I had come so far, I just couldn't bring myself to cross back over those narrow areas and go back to the car in defeat. I stopped complaining and walked on.
We reached the summit. The beautiful view could take one's breath away. But not me. I took a quick look and sat on a rock while Norm scrambled over the rocks trying to find the best picture.
I struggled. I did not want to go back down. Would it be possible to have a helicopter come and rescue me? Those three narrow sections terrified me. Sure I made it up, but I dreaded the return. I couldn't enjoy where I was because of what I feared lay ahead.
I thought of the song, "Mountain Top" by Amy Grant and understood completely the desire to stay on the top of the mountain. Walking with the Lord has its ups and downs and walking through the valley can be rough, illness, issues with family and friends, failures and expectations of ourselves and others. But the dread of the future can keep us from enjoying what we have.
As I waited for Norm, several groups of people arrived. They commented on the beauty and eventually I walked to the fence and studied the view. Someone had left a love lock on the fence. I guess it's a European tradition of lovers to signify undying love.
It truly was a great view of the Canyon, Route 9 snaked up the side of the Canyon like a shiny black ribbon. I watched cars wait to enter the tunnel. Must be an RV in the tunnel. Sure enough, soon an RV exited and the cars began to move. A mist began to waft up the canyon and Norm said, "Let's go. We don't want to walk down in the mist."
The trip down was not as bad as I thought. I only froze at two of the sections, I didn't even recognize the third. I stopped in the cavern where the lady had given me the heads up on the trail. Usually on the way down I will say to others, "It's rough, but worth it." I couldn't encourage this time. I've been on harder hikes, steeper, narrower ledges, but for some reason this one spooked me.
I don't want to go through life fearing what lies ahead. Sure there are going to be tough times, and there will be paths I don't want to walk. But I want to take time each day to enjoy the pleasures that God sends my way. To set aside the fear of the future rejoice in the Lord.
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