Dismals Canyon, Alabama: My Haven Away From Home

I'm not a creature of habit for the most part.  Most times, in my life, when I find I'm doing something that IS becoming a bit too monotonous, I have to do something to shake things up.  But, lets be fair. Some habits are pretty cool.

What is a habit?

I define a habit as something that done more than three times. A tradition is done countless times.

Dismal's Canyon in my new tradition, although I have only visited it twice. However, it is a tradition that has become one because my mother has taken both of my children down in this canyon on hikes, treating both children as if this was her first adventure there.

I'm so lucky to have this very special private tradition for the children, my mother, and myself. When you look at these pictures, feel my memories and embrace nature.

What is Dismal's Canyon?

Dismal's Canyon Conservatory is "Intentionally private, Dismals Canyon - in keeping with its pristine surroundings - offers a quiet and unspoiled oasis in Alabama’s last secret hiding place. A secluded wilderness filled with natural phenomena tucked deep within the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains." 

It is also one of the many sad spots and stopping places along the trail of tears.  Carvings can still be observed on the walls within the canyons and there's almost a haunting feeling as you pass within the water washed walls of history.

Around the World in 8 Whole Hours

Once upon a time, I took a trip. The plan was to travel around the world and end up whenever my eyes opened. 

That place ended up being Dodge City, Kansas...Wyatt Earp City. The year was 2012.

I doubt people dream of this place when their whisked away at night to dream land.  But, this was it.  This was the place of my dreams.  The spot where my feet decided to plant for an hour or so. A place where the streets were paved with cobblestone, restaurants manned by the world, and abandoned beautiful buildings.

They were absolutely beautiful, the buildings, that is. They were red, blue, green and purple.  ROY G. BIV must have fathered enumerable painters and muralists who chose the street names and colors.  And, for a gal who liked the color red...oh red..oh how red abounded. I saw my life flash before me in a haze of understanding.

It made no sense...this town. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. It sat roughly 4 hours from Tulsa and 4 hours from the nearest city in Colorado (or maybe even the state line).  There were shops and theaters and bars.  The Italian restaurant was owned by a Hispanic Family. Yet, I saw no Mexican restaurants.  The streets were all frontier.  Cowboys lined door frames.  Bulls grazed on leaves of stone.  Auction blocks ran the town.  Many streets had no names.

This was my kind of randomness. My town. It was me.

Maybe that's why I stopped randomly on my way to nowhere in my general tour around the world.  Maybe I decided I needed a breath of fresh air. Ya..that was it.  Fresh air.