Grand Canyon Journal, Page 12

At the bottom of this canyon, we rounded a bend in the river and turned a different direction.  I felt the wind current shift dramatically, like turning a corner on a street of skyscrapers.  The mass of the canyon walls bent the wind to it's will just like buildings do in any metropolitan city.  As  we completed this change in direction, I saw a huge hole had been carved through the wall of the lower canyon, worn away by the weather. The calls of the cliff swallows combined with the roar of the wind echoed through this beautiful natural bridge.  The swallows seemed to play in the sky, until a hawk cruised by from above.  Once we drifted past, the air currents died and we were lulled again by the soft ripple of water over smooth rock.  

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