A Collection of Essays About PLACE

My Kind of Town: Havasupai Grand Canyon
When I listen close I can hear the slight whistle that whispers through the trees
The Song of the Canyon by Brycen Williams
It is a perfect place to be, full of serenity and beauty
It is not an easy thing, to hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It is a twelve mile long hike, but it feels much
longer. The Canyon walls provide shade from the sun, but its heat still finds its way through. The trail is uneven and
bumpy. When I stop to rest, swarms of bugs assail me. Many people ride horses through the canyon leaving behind a
waste that seems to crawl up my nostrils. Almost the entire hike my feet hurt, the sun is blasting, and bugs are attacking.
There are times that I wondered if this hike was really worth it. That is until I reached the destination.
Somehow, when I arrived at the bottom, the smell disappeared. A new smell danced on my nose. Now it was a
sweet scent of trees and water. It smelled as if it had just finished raining and everything was beautiful and clean. The
bugs were replaced with birds singing soulful sonnets. Their chirps played songs that went on for days. In the distance I
could hear the rushing of water and the constant crashing of it at the bottom of a waterfall. However, my favorite sound
was more discrete than these. It tries to hide behind natures many other sounds, but when I listened close; I could hear the
slight whistle that whispered through the trees.
Although many people come to Havasupai, it feels like complete and constant solitude. The day time is busy with
kids running around jumping in the water holes, while the adults test their valor by jumping off of the waterfalls. I watch
as some perform tricks and land gracefully in the water, while others are not so graceful and belly flopped. In some areas
the water forms small pools with miniature waterfalls perfectly formulating around a grove of trees. These areas are my
favorite. It is a perfect place to be, full of serenity and beauty.
Finally nightfall begins to creep up on the cliffs. Slowly the shadows on the cliff side glide up the canyon wall
until it is completely covered. The sun slowly slips down toward the towering horizon.
Every day I spend down here the more I gain a familiarity with the songs of the birds, the rush of the water, and
the whistle of the trees. Sadly, the time always comes when it is time to leave. As I walk, I quietly say goodbye to all my
favorite things. The hike back out is nothing like the hike in. The bugs are gone, the sun is cool, the smell is sweet, and the
hike is short--too short.
DHHS Magazine, November 2013