A true conservationist is a man who knows that the world is not given by his fathers, but borrowed from his children.
- John James Audubon
The entrance to the canyon is a narrow slot in the rock walls, with a boulder blocking the view.
We scramble in and out of the sunlight, up the boulder, and look over the other side. A dark, narrow green pool of water lies perhaps thirty feet below. The pool is bookended by a partly submerged rock towards one side of the canyon wall, and a massive chockstone stuck between the walls obstructs our view ahead. A ridge of solidified conglomerate arches outwards from the boulder we’re on, before disappearing out of sight.