I did not know that a place such as antelope Canyon existed. It is one of the most dramatic slot canyons that I have seen in my two years in Utah. About 100 feet deep. Majestically weathered Navajo sandstone, curving and winding, forming limitless illusions to even the most unperservering of imaginations. In the depths below the wasteland above, what would be a deep red rock takes on an almost purple hue due to indirect sunlight refracting off of bits of quartz mixed in with the iron rich sedimentary rock. If you have any kind of experience with climbing on the sandstone of Southwest Utah, you will note that this stone is particularly hard. It is also remarkably smooth. Millions of fingertips glossing over it each year have probably helped to polish it. In some areas you can see a dark spot indicating that this places is of recurring caress from those that pass by. It is the kind of place that seems both too perfect to have been created by the accidents of nature, and too beautiful to have been dreamed by the mind.
I can imagine Ed Abbey finding this place in the early 1950’s. Battered metal canteen and green button up park ranger shirt. He would have probably sat naked in the lower canyon, protected from the sun, penning bitter words about perpetual encroachment into what seemed an impenetrable playground of undesirable and destitute rock and sand. The Glen Canyon Dam would be finished in a few years. He knows he can’t stop it and that a place that he holds dear for its unforgiving reality will soon make way for high end spas and miniature golf. Still, in this moment, he can sit with the nothing sounds known only to those who have found a small patch of shade on a sandstone tarmac under the seething Southwest sun.
In addition to spas and mini golf, there is now a boatyard. Yes, a boatyard. In the desert…
Ed didn’t believe that nature should be accessible to everyone. By taking the most hostile places on earth and building stairs and shady canopies we rob them of their undressed beauty. It starts with a slightly worn footpath. Eventually some trail signs go in. If the tourists are lucky, one day there will be a paved path leading to the edge of a cliff. As traffics picks up, an enterprising woman from the reservation might try to sell handmade jewelry. If she does well, the local government will catch on, boot her out, and lease a little patch of land to starbucks. The cups will end up in the river below……
The canyon is only a few hundred feet long and at sometimes only a foot or two wide. The locals cram 4,000 people through it each day. Trying to get through it is akin to getting through the door of Target on Black Friday. It is no wonder that most pictures you find are pointing up, otherwise you would have 20-100 strangers in the photo. It echoes with ohhs and ahhs and I can only imagine what it smells like with everyone packed in there on a hot day. At $55 a head, it could generate up to $70 million annually for the locals though. At that kind of money I can’t promise that I wouldn’t get down there with a bucket after a hard rain and drain it by hand either.
I wouldn’t say don’t go there, but I wouldn’t make a special trip out of it. If you’re passing by, aren’t well versed in the outdoors, have the money to blow, and won’t be disappointed if you get crop dusted 100 feet underground, then go for it. Otherwise you might consider hiring a guide to take you through a true slot canyon with a small group for only a few bucks more.
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