Few places call to me in such a deeply restorative way as the Grand Canyon. As I traveled across the country from Nashville, Tennessee to the Western deserts, my only "required" stop was this chasm of colors, sounds, smells, and physical exhileration. Though driving a 20-foot U-Haul truck with a tow dolly, nothing was going to deter me from racing from the entrance gate to Bright Angel trail, one of my favorite descents into this magical place. Of course, cameras were standard equipment, but almost more important was the Native American flute that hitch-hiked down the trail to the spots I knew to be incredibly acoustical in sending the soft songs across the canyon. Gently, the restoration of heart and soul begins.