Authors: P. S. Carillo
W
hen the campsite was cleared, Turner split the boys into smaller groups. Three teams of five were organized for the hike down the canyon. Each team would watch for their own members and he would trail behind the three teams to make sure that no one got left behind. This was his fifth trip to the canyon and he knew every turn of the hiking trail.
“Okay, boys, let's go. Chris, you're taking your team down first,” Turner said, motioning for Chris to start the hike.
Miguel and Ramón were on Chris's team and began to walk toward the trail with the other boys.
The southern rim of the canyon was crowded with trees, shrubs, and rocks. The stunning views of the Grand Canyon could only be seen from certain vantage points. Even though they had been sleeping on the edge of the great wonder, the boys had not yet seen the surprising sight. Miguel followed Chris toward the entrance to the trail and when they reached an open clearing he saw the canyon for the first time. He advanced slowly and turned his head in all directions in disbelief of its size.
“No way! This thing is huge! Hey, Ramón, you gotta see this!” he exclaimed.
Ramón reached his cousin's side and looked out into the great expanse. The walls of rock that lined the canyon were layered with shades of pink, brown, beige, and gray. The curves in the wide canyon walls undulated like ocean currents and the depth of the opening felt incomprehensible. Ramón had never seen anything like it before. He stood,
turning his head to the right, then to the left, trying to take in the full view.
“This is crazy.” He said to himself. “How did it get here?”
Chris, who had been on the same trip to the canyon last year, spoke up when he heard Ramón's question. “It took millions of years to form. Look at the various layers of rock, at all the different colors. Each one is a different stage of time. Pretty cool, huh?”
They started down the trail one by one, proceeding carefully but trying to keep their eyes on the majesty of the earth around them. After descending down the trail a quarter of a mile, Turner stopped the boys and they took a break off to the side at a point designated for sightseeing. Ramón sat facing the canyon and continued to gaze in wonder at what he saw. The morning sun was illuminating one side of the canyon while the other side was in shadows. The colors of the rock were varied depending on the light and the shadows being cast upon them. Ramón wished he had his sketch book with him to capture the images. Off to the side, he saw a tourist taking pictures of the canyon, while others posed with their friends in a huddle blocking the canyon's view.
“Someday,” he thought, “I'll paint this, just how it looks now.”
“So what do you think?” Turner asked Ramón.
“It's pretty cool.”
“This canyon is more than just a natural wonder. It represents the mystery and capacity each person has inside of them to do great things.”
Ramón kept his eyes on the magnificent view.
“Do you think everyone can be great?”
“We all originated from the same awesome source, and each one of us has their own unique talents. Once we discover what that talent is, we can be as great as we allow ourselves to be.”
Turner didn't rush the boys through the hike. He allowed them to walk slowly and to admire the open space surrounding them. He checked on all the groups, then approached Miguel and Ramón at the end of the trail.
“So, boys, I guess you're heading to New Mexico later?”
“Yeah,” Miguel answered. He sat back on a large rock and let the morning sun warm his face. “We have a lot more road to cover.”
Turner smiled at the young boy's confidence and turned to Ramón. “Sometimes life gives us opportunities to prove to ourselves how great we can actually be, and sometimes we have to trust that we can achieve the impossible.”
Miguel overheard Turner's words to his cousin and added, “Yeah, my dad always says that only real men attempt the impossible.”
Ramón thought about Turner's words and wondered about himself and his future, then he turned and said, “I think we have to get back on the road.” He had remembered the purpose of the trip and was suddenly eager to get back on the road.
“I'm glad you came along,” said Turner. “We take this trip every year at the beginning of the summer. Here's our club information if you want to join us in the future.” Turner handed Ramón a flyer with a list of phone numbers and email addresses.
“Next summer we're conducting a tour of the bottom of the canyon and we might even go river rafting. You could bring your dad.”
Miguel's heart skipped a beat when he thought of his dad joining them on a river rafting adventure, and he could not contain his excitement. “That would be awesome!”
“Yeah, maybe we will. Thanks a lot for everything,” Ramón said, adjusting his backpack. “Let's go, Miguel.”
“You have my phone number on that paper. If you need to call me over the next few days, go ahead,” the young man offered with sincerity.
Turner shook their hands and allowed the boys to leave the safety of the group. During their stay, Turner could see that Ramón had a lack of direction and that Miguel lacked self discipline. The young counselor knew that they were on a big adventure and that they needed to continue on their journey to prove to themselves that they could do it.
Miguel and Ramón ascended the canyon wall, passing those who were making the descent.
“We'll be back, Miguel,” Ramón promised, sensing that his cousin was reluctant to leave his new friends. “There's a lot more to see. This is only the beginning.”
T
he town of Flagstaff breezed by as Miguel turned the hand gear of the scooter and increased his speed on the interstate. Another national forest would have to be driven through before they reached Sedona. The road began to curve slightly and Miguel slowed his speed. Once in the national forest, the road narrowed and became two lanes. The left side of the road was bordered by cliff walls made of rock and the right side descended into small valleys filled with abundant trees and a steady stream of water running through the center.
Ramón closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the mountains as they passed. He heard the water ripple below. The spirit of the open road had captured him and he raised his arms above his head to experience the feeling of freedom. He felt liberated from his own life and everything he had known before. Ramón opened his eyes and felt a strange sense of happiness and hope.
The road sign directing traffic to Sedona indicated that the mystical town was only a few more miles away. Miguel kept his eyes wide open so he wouldn't miss it. Natalie turned smoothly around the last curve of the road and the forest opened up onto the picturesque desert landscape. Sedona was breathtaking.
Gigantic monuments of red rock stood stoically in the distance. The rock formations were both in clusters and in perfect solitude.
Ramón was dazzled. He ordered his cousin to pull over to the side of the road so that he could take a better look. Ramón stepped onto the clay-colored soil and stared into the deep
blue skies overhead. It was a dream come true. The most vivid colors and definitive shapes clearly set against a perfect stark background. Sedona was magical.
Miguel took a bottle of water from his backpack and considered if he should eat the peanuts he saw in the side pocket. He took the bag and opened it, handing it to Ramón first.
“I think these peanuts are honey roasted. I like “bar” better. I guess these are okay.”
Ramón took the bag and told his cousin instinctively, “I think we should stay here tonight, I can't leave here yet.”
“But we have at least four more hours of daylight. We could make it to Albuquerque tonight!” Miguel responded, feeling confident in his driving skills and exaggerating the nearness of Albuquerque.
“Let's drive into the town and check it out,” Ramón said, ignoring Miguel's suggestion. He wasn't ready to drive through the magical place. Something told him that he needed to be there, and he wasn't leaving.
Miguel ate the rest of the peanuts and decided to save the tempting chocolate bar for later. Ramón climbed on the scooter and they continued their drive toward the town, through the red rocks, into the magic of the desert.
T
he town plaza was filled with parked cars and people walking on the sidewalks. Restaurants and art galleries lined the main street with the majestic red rocks looming in the distance. Miguel drove up to a gas station and filled the tank. Ramón looked around and decided to explore.
“Hey, I'm going over to the main street to check it out. I'll be back in a while, or do you wanna come?” he said.
“No, it's okay. I'll take Nat to the park over there. I need to sleep,” Miguel answered, staring longingly at a patch of shade trees across the street.
Ramón took a bottle of water from the side pocket of his backpack and walked in the direction of the busy town.
It was late afternoon and a warm desert breeze washed over the buildings and wandering tourists. Ramón sipped the bottled water, walking slowly down the sidewalks with the other travelers. He looked into the windows of the shops and art galleries. Window after window displayed bronze sculptures, colorful glass creations, and wood carvings. But what captured Ramón's attention were the endless collections of paintings. Scenes of the desert, wandering rivers, and the glorious red rocks depicted on canvas after canvas. Some were painted in oil, others in watercolor, but all of them captured the unique vision of individual artists. “I can do this,” he thought to himself. “I feel what they see.”
He found a bench across from a large gallery window and sat down with his backpack next to him. The paintings in the window were being rearranged by the shop owner. The man moved each large canvas carefully and occasionally took a step back to analyze the new display. After several
attempts to rearrange the art pieces, he walked outside of the shop and stood directly in front of the window next to the bench where Ramón was sitting.