The Grand Canyon’s Silence Before the Tour’s End

Sunday, April 20

Even though it was Easter Sunday, we spent the morning on the road, heading toward Flagstaff, Arizona—a small college town nestled about 700 kilometers inland from Los Angeles.

The landscape outside began to shift dramatically, trading the familiar coastal views for vast, arid wilderness. The scenery reminded me of my 2018 trip to Joshua Tree National Park, and sure enough, we were driving not far from it. Under the clear blue sky, the Needles Freeway seemed to stretch on forever, like a road with no end in sight.

We stopped at a gas station along the way and met an enormous donkey. It was calm and friendly, even leaning in when I reached out to pet it. I got a little too enthusiastic, though, and it ended up biting my finger. Donkeys apparently grind their food when they chew—and that’s exactly how it bit me. It really hurt.

When we arrived in Flagstaff, it felt like the middle of winter. After sweating in short sleeves back in Los Angeles, the sudden temperature drop was a real shock to the system.

Tonight’s venue was the Coconino Center for the Arts—a public art gallery with an intimate hall that seats around 200. We loaded our gear in through a door right next to the stage, and soundcheck began almost immediately. I couldn’t help but notice the sound engineer seemed a little… unmotivated. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

The soundcheck wrapped up without a hitch, and after a short break, we were just about to dive into our set when things suddenly went sideways. Our loopers—pedals each of us uses to layer sounds live—refused to work. While not every song depends on them, we tried everything: restarting the power, checking and reconnecting the cables that link us. Nothing worked. We had no choice but to push through without them. We made it to the end, but it didn’t feel like we’d delivered our best. The show left us with a sense of unfinished business.

Afterward, we traced the issue back to Takano’s gear and rushed to get it fixed. Tomorrow is technically a day off, but with three shows still to go—including a big one at Austin Psych Fest—we can’t afford to let our guard down.

Although the performance didn’t go as well as expected and there were some empty seats in the hall, the merchandise section didn’t do too well either. However, since it was a college town, it was heartwarming to see a lot of young people thanking us in Japanese by saying “ありがとう” (“Thank you”).

The result was $1,056 (approximately ¥150,000). The remaining expenses are $3,025 (around ¥434,000). With three shows left, it looks like we’ll be able to bring it into the black. If we manage to break even before the final festival, the sales from the festival will be pure profit, so that could be a straightforward target. For now, let’s set that as our near-term goal.

We arrived at the Airbnb near the venue, brought the equipment in for safety, and then, as usual, it was time for the bed-determining rock-paper-scissors match. One of us would have to sleep on the couch.

For some reason, I felt like I could win that day, and, as expected, I did. It was a strange feeling. Perhaps rock-paper-scissors and the mind are more connected than we think.

Monday, April 21

It was the last day off in five days, so I planned to relax, but since Sedona and the Grand Canyon were close to Flagstaff, where we were staying, I decided to spend the day sightseeing instead.

I woke up around 9 a.m. and had breakfast at the Airbnb. It felt like it had been a long time since I had a morning like this—maybe even the first time in the US.

Our first stop was Sedona, a famous spiritual destination known for its stunning red rock formations and the beautiful rivers flowing between them. I was in awe of the immense scale of nature here, something you can’t experience in Japan.

The jade-colored river was filled with tourists enjoying a swim. Mikey changed into shorts, and seeing this, Ikeda followed suit, stripping down to just his underwear.

Mikey was the first to dive into the river, and Ikeda quickly followed. They both urged me to join them, but I politely declined, worried I might catch a cold.

As they basked in the sunlight to dry off, the temperature steadily climbed, and it became so warm that even in short sleeves, it felt hot. We decided to leave soon after.

Although we had planned to watch the sunset at the Grand Canyon, we still had time, so Mikey, ever considerate, suggested we check out a nearby antique shop.

It was a small, privately-owned shop, and though it was large enough to be overwhelming, the variety of secondhand goods was impressive. We were so immersed in browsing that we lost track of time. The shop had everything from folk crafts collected from around the world, including Native American pieces, to vintage clothing, musical instruments, furniture, and old books, all at reasonable prices. I promised myself to come back next time with more money. In the end, I picked up a large amethyst as a souvenir for my girlfriend.

The car makes its way toward the Grand Canyon.

Little by little, yet unmistakably, the terrain starts to shift. In the distance, behind the deep blue shadows, massive rock faces come into view. Having traveled through many diverse landscapes and natural wonders in America, I thought I had seen it all, but the grandeur of this place was something entirely beyond. A feeling of awe, almost reverential, fills me with excitement.

The car, which had been cruising through flat land, soon entered the mountains, beginning to climb a gentle incline. Mikey blasted Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” at full volume.

The car’s speed continued to rise.

We felt like rolling stones. Leaving the peaceful refuge of Japan, we journeyed across America in a shiny car. I never imagined life would take me here.

“How does it feel, how does it feel?”

Dylan’s voice echoed.

Of course, the answer was clear—it feels amazing.

We drove through the toll booth and into the national park, where a large parking lot awaited us. A short walk from there led to a well-known viewpoint. We got out of the car and hurried toward the crowd. Everything was timed just right. The sky was a stunning mix of blue and orange, with the sunset just on the horizon, ready to unfold.

The scenery was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. A miracle shaped by millions of years of geological layers and the erosion of the Colorado River, its beauty was the epitome of nature’s creative power. As I stood there, I couldn’t help but be moved to tears. In the face of such immense energy, all a small being like myself could do was allow my eyes to fill with emotion.

The sun was on the verge of sinking into the earth, casting a brilliant orange glow over the layers of rock, with shadows that were impossibly blue. It felt as though falling into that deep, endless blue was the most natural thing in the world. I had never witnessed such a profound shade of blue before.

Being confronted with such stunning nature forced me to return to my own existence. For the first time, I truly became aware of myself. It was a fluid, shifting sense of self-awareness. I was the air floating around me, the blue layers of rock, the jade-green Colorado River, the rushing currents, and the eroding riverbanks. This mystical experience with nature made me realize that everything surrounding me was, in a way, a part of me.

This encounter with existence felt like the beginning of a new artistic journey.

As the sun fully sank behind the horizon, the world around us began to darken rapidly. This mystical transition occurs every day, without fail, in a quiet, unbroken rhythm. What may feel like a profound moment of life and hope to me could simply be another cycle in the grand scheme of things for others.

Still moved by the experience, we each headed back on our own paths.

We decided to have dinner at the Airbnb. After stopping by the supermarket for salad and microwaveable meat, we got back to the place. I cooked some rice and set the table while watching Kill Bill with English subtitles. I had collected a bunch of canned beer and soda from the green room, so we figured we’d make the most of our day off and have a toast.

There are only three days left of the tour. I can’t believe how fast it’s all gone by.

To be continuned.

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