July 2011 @ Red Rock Canyon in Santa Ynez Mountains, California

For newcomers or travelers in the United States, one of the deepest impressions often lies in the stark contrast of its landforms to those in China. Here, there’s none of Guilin’s elegance, Jiuzhaigou’s mystique, or Zhangjiajie’s spiritual peaks. Instead, vast, rugged terrain stretches out—gray, yellow, and unforgiving. Particularly in Nevada, Arizona, and much of California, apart from a few scattered national forests, the landscape feels like a never-ending “wasteland.” These perceptions mostly come from famous national parks. But if you stay a while, and wander off the beaten path, you’ll realize California has its own gentleness and depth—full of lush green hills, quiet waters, and secret havens.

One sunny Saturday morning in July, we crossed the Santa Ynez Mountains along California’s scenic Highway 154 and headed toward Red Rock Canyon, less than 10 miles from downtown Santa Barbara. The newcomers were visibly excited; the locals? Calm and nostalgic.

Red Rock Canyon lies at the end of Paradise Road, hugging the Santa Ynez River in its middle and upper reaches. The river originates in the Los Padres National Forest and winds through several tributaries before flowing into Cachuma Lake—the largest reservoir in the area and a vital water source for Santa Barbara.

Being so close to the city, Red Rock Canyon is a weekend haven. There are numerous picnic sites and public rest areas. Admission is free—just a small parking fee, usually around $3–5. The canyon’s name comes from its iconic rust-red boulders, likely rich in iron from ancient volcanic activity. Over millennia, they’ve been worn into fantastic shapes, surrounded now by verdant hills—so different from the parched scenes that dominate California’s interior.

As we approached the canyon, a small emerald lake shimmered beneath a massive red rock, speeding up everyone’s steps. Beneath this towering rock, the river ran clear and calm, calling to mind the Golden Whip Stream in Zhangjiajie. Stone steps, green grass, and gently flowing water—it felt like a brushstroke from a Jiangnan painting.

This 40-foot-high red rock is the canyon’s landmark. In the heat of summer, thrill-seeking youth often scale it barefoot to dive into the river below. While the water is deep enough at the center, the scattered boulders around the edge are dangerous. Still, the successful divers are treated like legends. One climber, urged on by cheers and camera flashes, hesitated for 15 minutes before leaping. Later, he admitted he closed his eyes mid-fall and only opened them to realize he was still falling—terrifying and unforgettable. I couldn't help but think: bravery or recklessness, the line is thin.

After the adrenaline faded, we hiked a gravel trail back to our picnic site. Fires were lit, food unpacked, and laughter returned. Even the "diving hero" grew quiet, likely lost in reflection. In California, public drinking is prohibited, but enforcement is relaxed in places like this—so long as moderation prevails.

Later, a few of us strolled upstream, wandering across a wide bed of smooth pebbles. The simplicity of it was perfect. By the river, I spotted a rare red dragonfly, striking in its elegance. With only a standard lens, I tiptoed close to capture it—regretting again that I hadn’t yet invested in a telephoto.

The riverbed, under crystal-clear water, sparkled with sunlit pebbles and green algae. In the distance, others still swam and played. As the sun dipped behind the hills, we reluctantly packed up and began our journey home. Every trip begins with excitement and ends with quiet fulfillment—and the moments we capture along the way become the true treasures.

If you find time, go. Let the natural world welcome you, remind you of freedom, and carry your spirit a little farther. There’s no better place to stretch the wings of your dreams than on the trail of beauty.