My number 1, 2, and 3 are all so close it's pretty much a three-way tie. Not surprisingly, all three are in Utah and all three are canyons (one spans both Utah and Arizona to be fair).
1) Having been a frequent visitor to Zion National Park,
I foolishly assumed I was familiar will all her treasures. I was proved wrong when taken to Kolob into the Southern fork of Taylor creek. This is one of those scenes that is so indescribable, so painfully beautiful that it makes your heart ache: immense, vertical sandstone cliffs surround this desert paradise- we're talking a lush green forest, thick mats of wildflowers contrasted with the rich, sugary, rust-red sand and crisp blue Utah sky. The intensity of these colors nearly blinded me, filled me with uncontrolled glee. I could not stop myself from giggling, the sensation was too much. I could live there, I want to live there. Revert back to a primal world and let the canyon sustain me. If I ever go missing, this is the first place you should look...but please, take your time finding me.
2) I will bestow my number two spot to Escalante National Monument. This encompasses quite a bit of land so let me sum up what this place has to offer: isolated, rugged, red canyon country whose inner depths must be penetrated and pondered before grasping the true beauty of the place. Escalante must be experienced up-close for most of its secrets lie within the canyons- some so narrow even I have a hard time shuffling my way through. This is where I go to experience real solitude, and view the most awe-inspiring starry night sky these brown eyes have seen.
3) I think I may have mentioned before how I loathe turning around. No place tests my logical mind more than Paria canyon in Vermillion Cliffs National Monument. By this I mean, even though I know there is a great distance behind me that must be traveled, I find myself pressing on despite the reasonable voice in my head saying it is time to go back. The next bend lures me in with its siren song, and I submit only to discover another with equally irresistible offerings. A place like that can be wonderfully dangerous.
4) The High Sierra Music Festival is not about location but atmosphere. Although, I find myself imagining that this small "town" never really disappears after those four glorious days, but remains unchanged until you return the next year. As much as I dislike crowded places, the large numbers of festivaling faces- the costumed, the dread-locked, the tattooed- gathered in the often blazing hot sun of the sierra foothills for the common purpose of letting music fill and move us, are a comfort and a joy to me. It is a place where you can encounter self expression in more forms that you initially thought possible, and dance until the world melts away.5)Aside from Chicago, there is only one other place I have lived for a significant amount of time- Mendocino county. Despite having little wildlife work available to me,
I found this place so unlike any other place I have ever been, that I could not tear myself away easily. The Anderson Valley and Mendocino coast are very difficult to adequately describe. I found myself immersed in rolling green hills dotted with gnarly oak trees, bountiful orchards, bleating baby sheep, and the tell-tale rows of vineyards; mist-shrouded coastal redwoods whose canopy encloses a wonderland of delicious-smelling, rotting earth, secretive salamanders, and the most varied mushrooms of all forms and colors; stark, jagged cliffs overlooking the chilling Pacific, showcasing heart wrenching sunsets almost daily; epicurean delights: wines, cheeses, foods masterfully prepared by good friends, fresh produce from my yard, meats from animals raised and slaughtered down the road, a back-to-the-land mentality. This is where I honed my domestic side, and I will always to some degree ache for this place.
