So Many Canyons Continued and a Few Other Arizona Highlights

Oh, you thought we were done with canyons, did you? WRONG. Like I said….So. Many. Canyons!

We’ve seen far more of Arizona than I ever expected. It seems to be right in the middle of everything. Between Utah, California, and Nevada, we just keep circling back through it. I’m pretty sure we’ve driven the same crappy stretch of highway five different times. The deserts here aren’t my favorite; they’re some of the brownest, most barren landscapes I’ve ever seen but, tucked between all that dryness are pockets of incredible, surprising beauty.

This one was very cool and for me at least, a total surprise. From the outside, it looks like just a narrow crack in the ground, but step inside and you’re in another world. Over centuries, water has carved the rock into winding passages and smooth, flowing walls, creating shapes and textures that kinda made me feel like I was walking through Ariel's grotto.

My parents agreed it was their favorite part of the trip. Climbing down and scrambling through the canyon felt incredibly immersive, like exploring a hidden wonderland. Sayer loved playing in the soft sand, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers along the canyon walls and ledges, marveling at the fine, silky grains of sand.

At first, ticket prices felt expensive but the more I thought about it, the more it felt right. These slot canyons are located on Navajo Nation land and Navajo people guide every tour. A hundred dollars to experience a stunning piece of someone else’s homeland? Absolutely worth it, and the least we can do to respect their stewardship. Sure, please DO take my money. It’s the least we can do…sorry about the colonizing. Ugh!!!

I’m endlessly grateful for the chance to see these incredible places, but that gratitude is always tinged with sadness. The more I learn about the Indigenous people who first lived here, the more I realize how deeply our history is entwined with theirs.

This was a quick stop, just down the road from our campground. We arrived right as the sun was setting, and it was absolutely stunning. Our family has an inside joke from when we were traveling in New Zealand 20 years ago: our best buddy Jack came to visit for a couple of weeks, and while cresting yet another mountain to take in what was probably our hundredth incredible view, he deadpanned, “At least it doesn’t look like shit anymore.” And friends… that’s exactly where we’re at again.

“At least it doesn’t look like shit anymore” has become code for: Oh my gosh, this is amazing and magical and how could it possibly get any better? And somehow, it just keeps getting better.

While we were visiting Antelope Canyon, our Navajo guide suggested we check out the Dino Tracks, a very cool spot that, funny enough, turned out to be right on that same “crappy stretch of highway” I mentioned earlier. When we pulled up, we were met by our own guide, who had grown up on that land. He was fascinating and full of stories and information. I asked where he had learned so much, and he told us that when he was a young boy, paleontologists had come to dig and research there. He followed them around asking questions, and they took him under their wings, teaching him everything they could.

He was incredibly engaging and clearly loved sharing what he knew; the more curious we were, the more excited he became to show us the next discovery. The tracks were far clearer than we expected, and they really told a story. We could easily spot the prints of grazing herbivores and then the predator tracks sweeping in behind them. The kids were especially delighted to identify fossilized dino dung. And Grier was thrilled to add jasper to the little rock collection she’s been building and learning about. She’s been having so much fun picking up bits of geology along the way.

We wrapped up our time with my parents in the Grand Canyon and it was, well… grand. The scale is almost impossible to comprehend. The canyon is so immense that I struggled to truly appreciate just how epic it is. It actually reminded me of skydiving: when you’re so high up, you lose all real sense of falling. In contrast, bungee jumping covers only a tiny fraction of that distance, yet the rush is so much more intense because you can see the ground and feel every inch of the drop. Bryce Canyon felt like bungee jumping; the Grand Canyon felt like skydiving.

Before we even pulled into our campsite, we spotted several elk, and as the week went on, they turned out to be some of our best entertainment. One morning, a massive bull elk just sauntered right into the campground like he owned the place. Since fall is rut season, we’d been hoping to hear some bugling, and one of the kids had the brilliant idea to try making female moose calls to lure one in. And unbelievably… it worked. He gave us several great bugle responses before moving on to a rather unimpressed female moose.

We kept cracking up, assuming the whole courtship thing would be a little smoother for him, but she was absolutely not interested. After a few awkward loops around the area, he finally gave up and wandered off toward another cow in the distance. Maybe he had better luck there!

We’d been incredibly lucky with weather so far, but it finally caught up to us here. We did get plenty of rainbows out of it though! We really expected the rain to be much worse, so every time we were able to do something without getting completely drenched, we felt pretty fortunate.

We didn’t want to miss a chance at a great sunset, so as soon as we finished settling in, we headed straight to the rim. It was marvelous. I always love a sunset shared with a crowd; there’s something sweet and tender about experiencing collective awe with a bunch of strangers.

We had a great time exploring the trails along the rim, though I’ll admit I was a little anxious having the kids so close to the edge. Aaron and I even managed to get away for a few hours (thanks mom and dad!) and hike a couple miles down into the canyon on the Bright Angel Trail. It was such a fun mix of people; everyone from total badasses who had completed the entire out-and-back that day to sweet little families who only took a few tentative steps down the trail and everything in between. The best part might’ve been watching a group of women who emerged at the rim, sweaty and victorious, and the whole crowd burst into applause.

Oh! I almost forgot, Aaron and I celebrated our 12th anniversary here, too. Thanks to my parents (again!), we slipped away for a sweet dinner date at the fancy El Tovar, where we somehow scored the perfect window table overlooking the canyon. Well, I actually know exactly how: right after we sat down at our not-so-great table, a rather intense couple stormed out when they discovered prime rib wasn’t on the menu, leaving their prime spot behind for us. When we got back to the trailer, the lights were off… until the kids jumped out with homemade cards, cupcakes, and decorations. It was the loveliest ending to an already magical night.

After my parents left, heading toward Sedona, we made our way up to Monument Valley, right on the Arizona–Utah border. This place was incredible, and we saw some of the most breathtaking sunsets of the entire trip. When we pulled into our campground, I struck up a conversation with a couple who arrived right behind us. It was their second visit, and they were emphatic that we had to take the open-air Jeep tour run by a local Navajo family. And wow, what a recommendation. We had an absolute blast!

The tour was both beautiful and exhilarating, bouncing along those rugged “roads.” We saw the famous rock formations, of course, but the real magic was heading deeper into the backcountry: tucked-away arches, the sand dune where our guide’s football coach used to take the team to run hills, and historic Navajo sites with petroglyphs, pictographs, and even a hundred-year-old earth lodge. We got to sit inside and listen to the granddaughter of the midwife who had originally lived there (I obviously loved this!). Sayer was happily playing in the sand, and when I tried to get him to sit still, she stopped me with a smile: “No, let him play. There have always been children playing here.” It was such a tender moment.

Our last stop was a cave-like formation with a high opening in the ceiling, a perfect circle of sky far above. Just when we thought the tour couldn’t get any better, our guide, Jameson, invited us to lean back against the wall and close our eyes. He pulled out his double flute, told us a beautiful story about what it represents and how he plays for Mother Earth and Father Sky, and then began to play the most ethereal, magical music. The notes echoed off the stone all around us, filling the space in a way that felt ancient and sacred.

And of course, we couldn’t leave Monument Valley without squeezing in another canyon, so we swung by Goosenecks State Park to marvel at the winding river carving its way through the desert.