Honeymoon Days 26-27: Sedona

Of all the places we've seen, and especially of all the towns we've visited, Sedona is hands-down the one to which we're most looking forward to returning. Other than Boulder, there was no place that felt more unified in its identity than Sedona. This is especially impressive considering that the town seems to be evenly split between two camps: the nouveau riche, latte-swilling resort dweller:

appropriated image of the Hyatt Pinon Point in Sedona

And the red-dusted, half-crazed outdoor enthusiast:

open-source image of my yin in our tent

Somehow my yin and I almost moved from the latter category into the former during a brief jaunt into a small building whose awning ominously read: "Tourist Information". We had just finished hiking Cathedral Rock (see below) and were in desperate need of a restroom. While my yin took advantage of the facilities, I ran interference by talking to the young man at the desk.

Before I knew what had happened, my question about where we could find a laundromat was being answered (persuasively nonetheless) by the promise of a $15 helicopter tour of Sedona. About this time my yin exited the restroom, and I asked her to take over the negotiations while I washed up and refilled our water bottles.

By the time I came back to the counter, the conversation had morphed once more, and the $15 helicopter tour had been replaced with a free night at a local golf resort. The young man informed us that all we needed to do was listen to a 90-minute timeshare sales pitch and then we would be able to check-in by 4pm at the latest.

Now I'm uncertain how this salesperson thought that we – who had already explicitly inquired about finding coin-operated showers – could possibly afford a luxury timeshare. But his argument was so persuasive, and his demeanor so natural, that my yin and I almost started believing it ourselves. It was only when we reached the question labeled "gross yearly income" that our plan to upgrade our lodging for the night hit a snag:

"This is your income?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Your combined income?"

"Yes."

He neatly slides the form away from us and into the trashcan.

But this is beside the point.

The point is that everyone we met in Sedona was friendly and helpful, and it is as striking a landscape as I have ever seen:

Cathedral Rock, the moon, the sky's cascading blues

purple cactus in uptown Sedona

my all-time favorite plant, name unknown

Sedona is also known, of course, for things that cannot be seen, specifically its much-famed energy vortexes (or vortices, depending on who you ask). We inquired about them on our first day in town, in the supplement section of the local organic grocer. An employee named Christopher knew all about vortexes (probably from being asked the same repetitive question by tourists like us), and told us that they came in two varieties: "inflow" and "outflow".

An inflow vortex promotes introspection and contemplation, whereas an outflow vortex helps one to experience the movement of energy from Self out into the rest of the universe. Christopher informed us that the idea was to cycle between the two types of vortexes (or vortices, still depending on who you ask) to open one's energy channels wider and wider.

He also told us, however, that the Airport Loop hiking trail was an outflow vortex, but the idea of talking a walk around the Sedona airport to seek temporary enlightenment seemed preposterous to me. So, we opted for an inflow vortex:

Cathedral Rock, pine, and cacti

Other than a few aesthetically pleasing lens flares:

And impressive views to the south:

Our hike to Cathedral Rock seemed to be largely vortex-free. It was peaceful, though, and I ventured out to a narrow ledge:

Because it seemed like a reasonable place to meditate:

But my yin, ever camera-ready, caught me in the act:

So I left the ledge:

And found a nice quite seat next to this cliff-dwelling tree:

Coming down from Cathedral Rock we got a nice view of the elegant homes tucked into the landscape across the way. Images like this are the strongest argument for zoning laws, in my opinion, because they demonstrate how man-made structures don't necessarily have to be in conflict with the earth from which they rise:

a hillside community outside Sedona

When we got back in town, my yin wanted to stop by an arts and crafts mall. In out minds we envisioned small vendors and foldout tables, but it ended up being more of a high-end collection of boutiques with outcroppings of sculpture. One reminded us of our friend Vidya:

And another included both a cactus and a bear, both of which I'm now convinced have some sort of totemic significance for me:

We spent the middle part of the day back at our campsite, taking advantage of our access to Oak Creek:

And then camped out in a coffee shop, largely out of a desire to stay out of the scorching desert heat. It also made for a nice infusion of caffeine, and to this date it is still the strongest iced coffee I've ever had in my life.

i
m
age
miss
in
g

Once the sun was low enough in the sky we went for a second hike:

Now, if you look closely at the black above, you'll see that Richard "Dick" Wilson was killed by a grizzly bear in the very canyon we were about to hike. By now my fear of being eaten by a bear on my honeymoon is well-known throughout south Florida, northern California, and parts of Colorado; but I did not read this inscription closely at the time. Therefore, we embarked up the dried-up creek bed in fearless ignorance:

Along our way we came across disturbing clues of what lay ahead:

a diseased cactus

And hopeful signs that pointed our way:

a message from those who came before

The weird thing about this trail was that there was nobody – absolutely nobody – on it but us. This was unusual because we were there at the height of Sedona's tourist season. The Cathedral Rock Trail, for example, had dozens of people on it, even though it was much more difficult (and hotter) than the one we were on.

Furthermore, the sun was setting into the canyon, which not only created stunning silhouettes against the landscape, but also cloaked everything in that magical light that precedes the darkness:

the hills north of Sedona


silhouette of my favorite plant

Perhaps it was the solitude, perhaps it was the mystery of twilight, but there was something definitely in the air as we completed our hike and walked back to the car. We were light-headed and spacy and both my yin and I looked green to one another. Not sick. Green.

Perhaps that vortex, the one we didn't encounter in the morning, caught up to us after all...