Among the arches

I know this is going to sound irreverent, but it is the truth. Since Tal and I began planning to come on this trip I have not been able to think about Arches National Park without having Jean Stapleton's Edith Bunker invade my head, that signature, fingernails-on-chalkboard, "oh, aaa'-chie." I got over it today, though, as we immersed ourselves in arches (with the requisite "R" inserted in the word) and I was infused with a huge dose of awe.

This is the view back toward the Visitor Center after the long climb (by coach) into the park when we stopped to see the view and for a geomoment. US191 and the Denver and Rio Grand Western railroad tracks come through the Moab Canyon -- a major fault.

North Window and South Window









Turret Arch viewed from the North Window


Double Arch is a pot-hole arch, formed by water erosion from above rather than the more usual erosion from the side.

The park, today being Sunday in a holiday weekend, was very busy. Geri had gotten permission for us to eat our lunch and have a geomoment in the solitude of the Amphitheater near the campground. Skyline Arch formed a stately backdrop for all that nourishment, the back seats in the amphitheater meeting the dead tree in the foreground of the photograph.

A very obviously "in process" Pine Tree Arch, losing squared-off chunks and slowly forming a rounded arch.

Landscape Arch and contrail. Newsworthy as the longest arch in the world, Landscape shed a few pounds in the 1991 -- an over 7o-foot piece from its underside, making it even more graceful and a little closer to the end of its existence. The link in this caption is to a great photograph, my efforts hampered today by the angle of the sun.

We viewed Delicate Arch from the lower viewpoint -- very far away. Our day by this time had grown long and hot, the hike up to the arch over three miles with an elevation gain of 400 feet and exposure to unprotected heights. This arch is the last one standing in what was once a long line.

This spot is called Park Avenue, reminding the person who named it of the building-lined street in New York City, I suppose.

At the end of the day, even though I was weary, it was hard to leave this park. I don't think it's my favorite -- I still have fresh in my mind the drama of Dead Horse Point, but there is something haunting here. I'm reading Edward Abbey's book of essays, "Desert Solitaire," written during and about the first summer he spent at Arches as a ranger, predating its development for "industrial tourism." Here's a bit of what he says about Delicate Arch, a few words that I think hold true for the experience of wilderness in general and more generally and universally for life itself:

For a few moments we discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous that all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures (37).

Enough for today. Tal and I had more of our fabulous and generous lunch for supper here in the hotel, since we shared one at mid-day in the presence of Skyline Arch. Our after supper stroll along the main street of Moab as dusk draped itself across the desert was a quiet end to a good, tiring, satisfying day.

Utah's very grand canyon

The dullness that seemed to surround my head yesterday had turned into a very real threat of migraine by early this morning. Tal humored me by going to breakfast alone, letting me sleep (although it was a travel day and packing was required). The coffee and toast with peanut butter he brought back to the room for me nearly reduced me to tears. A few minutes of extra sleep, several Aleve and that breakfast was enough to get me out the door, on -- and to the back of -- the bus.

Our move to the back? Here's the drill. The people on the door side of the coach move back two seats every morning; the people on the driver's side move forward two; those having reached the front or the back moved across the aisle. And, today Tal and I reached the back. What an unexpected treat. It's quiet; there's less sway; the leg room is fabulous (something about more people weight in the front to offset the engine in the back). Anyway, a travel pillow from Chrystal's magic bag of tricks, Tal's shoulder, a seat that reclined ... take that you headache. It was a low day for me physically, but what a wonderful travel day it was, our stops varied and many -- and all interesting.

First, back across Capitol Reef on Utah Highway 24 and last glimpses of yesterday's sights, including "The Castle" in this image I made yesterday from the Visitor Center ...













Then, on to Hanksville for a rest stop at Hollow Mountain, a gas station blasted into the side of a really big rock. A "not to miss," for certain! To give the settlement its due, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had a hideout near Hanksville and presently evidence of dinosaurs is being excavated from the Hanksville-Burpee Quarry (which, understandably, we did not visit, this being a geology tour).

How in my 57 years have I missed knowing about John Wesley Powell, the Union Civil War veteran who was the first to explore the Green and Colorado Rivers in 1869? Must have been asleep at the switch lots more than I realized. After visiting the John Wesley Powell River Museum in Green River UT -- with an extensive book store; exhibits of archival photographs, historic boats, Powell's further career, the area's history; and a thrilling film about Powell's first expedition, "Journey into the Great Unknown," I know about him now. The stop in Green River also included lunch at a very pretty river-side restaurant. Getting to it added to the charm for me, requiring as it did taking the sidewalk under the bridge.

The high point of my day, but not our last stop, was Utah's own very grand canyon Dead Horse Point State Park, adjacent to Canyonlands National Park. From the overlook's 2000-foot vantage point on the sheer-sided mesa cliff one can see evidence of 10 million years of erosion, the Colorado a powerful force. The weather was simply perfect for being there. But, no more words. Just look ...








Remember the last scene in "Thelma and Louise." Dead Horse Point would be the spot.

Before turning to Moab and our lodging for the next two nights, we made a stop at Canyonlands National Park to see the Mesa Arch, and the needles and spires beyond. It provided another incredible view, this one through the arch itself.

Finally, the hotel in Moab. We were all on our own for dinner. Tal and I and a new friend simply walked across the street to Jeffrey's Steakhouse, having energy for no more than that. It was a quiet and intimate place for a lovely dinner which also afforded us an early evening.

Bridge vs arch

After reporting endlessly on the weather through the early days of this trip, I am happy to write that today's dawn brought with it blue sky and sun. Several of us were out before breakfast to record the occasion, this being the view from the back of the hotel.


We spent the entire day at Capitol Reef National Park, a few of the predominant features being the Fremont River, which flows unimpeded through the park, a green swath through a rocky landscape; giant domes of Navajo sandstone, one of them reminiscent of the dome on the US Capitol building; nearly impassable rocky cliffs -- somewhat like reefs -- along a giant crease in the earth's crust, called Waterpocket Fold, caused by a collision of the North American and Pacific plates some 70 million years ago; petroglyphs of the Fremont people. For all the legendary beauty of Zion and Bryce, I have to say there is something about Capitol Reef that I especially like. Admittedly, the welcome sunshine might play a part ...

An honest-to-goodness hike was the major activity of the morning, a rather strenuous two-mile round trip to Hickman Bridge, a remote and stunning location (and difficult to photograph). Many of our group made it. Others decided after the first long pull to turn back. Still others stayed with the coach, taking shorter walks, even helping Geri wash the bus! And, we have been left with an assignment: Despite its name, is the Hickman Bridge a bridge or is it an arch?

Our lunch time was spent in the Fruita section of the park in a luscious, although stealthily muddy, picnic area right by the Fremont and next to an apple orchard, sadly done for the season. We were sort of hoping for apples to augment the contents of our bags.

This cottonwood was one of two giants shading the picnic area; I wish I could see these trees again in a couple of weeks, their leaves a signature golden yellow.

Before returning to Torrey, the hotel, dinner and an evening lecture, we walked along the pathway under the petroglyphs. They are high on the cliffs and difficult to see, but spotting one is a pleasure.

Sadly, this is my best effort. More sad, is the ongoing erosion that caused the "M" to fall away from the face of the cliff, sending much of the art onto the pile of rubble below. Look closely. There's a line of human-looking figures to the right of the "M" and something that resembles a horse or large animal to the left of it.

A wild ride

After our enthralling time at Bryce Canyon this morning and a lunch back at Ruby's, we set out along Utah's Scenic Byway 12 for our night's lodging in Torrey. I scarcely know where to begin. There were two stops, one at the visitor center for the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and another at the Anasazi State Park museum. Add to that austere, long-view scenery, weather determined to get our attention, a thrilling stretch of road called The Hogback on Boulder Mountain (think tight-wire and a 25-ton bus), a one-man cattle drive and we had ourselves a full and interesting afternoon.

This trip so far seems to be alot about the weather. St George normally gets on average 8.5 inches of rain each year. While we were in town, at least half that fell. Most visitors don't get to see waterfalls in Zion or fog at Bryce. So, as we set out for Torrey and Tal and I noticed that the sky was dark behind us, we were determined to make the best of it. "No problem," we murmurred to ourselves. "We've passed all that."

And, indeed, the threatening clouds did stay behind us -- through our stop at Grand Staircase, through the slickrock canyons beyond and well into our time at Anasazi State Park -- for several hours.

This is a view, taken from the bus, of the terrain east of the visitor center at the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Bleak, but compelling, as well.

An arty shot of the roofline over the entrance to the museum at Anasazi State Park. The Anasazi people are thought to have lived on the site from 1050 to 1200CE.

As our time in the museum and on the grounds grew short we began hearing thunder and realized that those dark clouds had flanked us, doing an end run around the mountain. The storm was fast and strong -- lightening and thunder, spitting rain and hail. That didn't keep me from enjoying the scenery, though. The aspens on Boulder Mountain were beginning their glorious autumn transformation (see below). I am pleased that the rain hadn't streaked the windows until I made that shot. The Henry Mountains are in the distance -- another example of laccolith.


While we were not a particularly boisterous group, a reverent hush fell over the coach as the drive continued. In the photograph to the right, taken the length of the coach's aisle, that's snow on the road, and a slushy ice was sticking to the windshield, building up on the wipers.*

Then, Geri braked rather forcefully. A car stopped in the road ... waiting for a big, black cow to move. Once we were underway again, we were amazed to see cows all along the side of the road. Then, there appeared a man, wearing a bright yellow slicker, on horseback driving a herd of cows toward us just off the pavement. As we passed by him it felt as though I could reach out and and touch that slicker, the man's head just above the bottom of the windows. Free range, I suppose.

Not long after we were off the mountain and gladly driving the main (and only?) street of Torrey, the excitement over for the day, our hotel a welcome sight.

We had a wonderful dinner in the restaurant at the nearby Sandstone Inn (not where we were staying), made even more wonderful by what I beheld as I stepped off the coach. Needless to say, I was not the first one to be seated inside. I hope this means the worst of the challenging weather is behind us.


*The coach does carry chains and Geri said later that had she not known we were almost off the mountain when the snow started, that is, had we been farther back, she would have stopped and put them on the tires. Now, that would have too much for one day.

To linger at the edge

After supper last night we gathered for a lecture on Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef, the next two national parks we are to visit, and I went to bed ready for my first view of Bryce's luminous windows, fins and hoodoos. We awoke to the thickest fog I have ever seen. The temperature and the dew point matched exactly at 46 degrees.

We dragged our feet at every opportunity, Chrystal and Marc changing the schedule, moving our going out to the rim later and later in the morning: stopping at Bryce's visitor center to see the excellent film about the park and take in the museum, including a "geomoment" with Marc, and then at the lovely, old-style, hospitable lodge (front porch view to the right and dining room above) for another cup of coffee, all the while willing either the temperature or the dew point to change -- which, stubbornly, neither did.


Off to the rim with us (my first-ever view captured in the large image above). With zero visibility, I think our group slogged on with amazing good cheer, asking questions and responding to Marc's instruction as though the wondrous view were actually there before us.

Then, to our utter amazement and delight, the fog began breaking up, blowing, swirling to reveal mysterious formations, more and more of them out from us, below us, the scene changing with every nanosecond that passed. A truly magical, mystical experience that no words could ever describe. Enthralled, we walked from Inspiration Point to Sunset Point and moved by coach to Fairyland Point (the park's northern most outlook and where the wind howled), our precious time at Bryce growing short.








I wonder, had we simply walked up to the rim, the air clear and the view perfect, if I would have left Bryce with the same reverent feeling. I suspect not. Surely, viewing the clearing of the fog is a once-in-a-lifetime event.

O Zion, haste!

We set out this morning for Zion, a short distance from St George; I could hardly contain myself. Seeing the iconic national parks of the southwest and learning something about their individual characteristics is one of the primary why's of the trip. And, we're off ...


We had a good hike during the morning, though not the one Marc had wanted us to make originally. But, the weather dictated something less muddy and rugged. So, deep into the straight canyon we went -- to the Temple of Sinawava and the (paved) riverside walk, learning about hanging gardens, blind arches, Navajo sandstone, desert varnish -- the North Fork Virgin River running high, fast and muddy along our route. We consoled ourselves that seeing Zion in the rain is somewhat unusual.

I used both cameras in hopes of capturing a shot or two that would evoke in the viewer the wonder I felt and the beauty I perceived as a first-time visitor. Eventually, I realized that I would probably put the Canon away for this trip. There's nothing more irritating than having some person with a camera holding up the group or always lagging behind. Well, except being that person, perhaps.

By lunchtime we had been out in the wet (hurray for good rain gear) for a long time and we were cold. Staff in the Zion Lodge had opened a gathering room and built a fire, and there, snug and comfortable, we ate our sack lunches.

The drive after lunch to the east gate of Zion along the Zion-Mount Carmel Highway was spectacular! Long grades, switch-backs, layers of rock with names I may come to recognize in time, road construction and the tunnel itself -- built in the late 1920s, over a mile long with five galleries (windows) onto the crevasse below. Then, we were confronted with the dramatic, precise, cross-bedded world of Checkerboard Mesa and travelled along the Sevier Fault. Before arriving at Bryce Canyon City and Ruby's Inn, our home base for the next two nights, it seemed as though we were riding in the clouds -- sleet on the windshield and visibility less than optimal. I'm SO glad Geri's driving.

Here is an unidentified guest at Ruby's doing what all of us had to find a way to do -- rinse the mud out of the lugs of our hiking boots. There weren't enough potholes in the parking lot. That's our coach is on the right.

A day in St George

Our geological adventure is underway, although we haven't travelled any distance so far.

After breakfast in the College Inn lobby our morning began with an engaging lecture by Dr Douglas D Adler, former president and professor emeritus at Dixie State College, whose presentation ranged from the design of the Morman community's irrigation system (which still works) to the various forces affecting current settlement in the area. He followed his talk with a field trip to the St George Tabernacle (a masterpiece of architecture), a pioneer cabin (smaller than our kitchen at home), the St George Social Hall/Opera House (where in the basement we saw the mechanism by which the main floor could be lowered on the stage end to make the transition from social hall to theater -- seen here to the above left) and the Old Washington County Courthouse. And, Geri showed off her driving stuff with a very neat U-turn in the middle of town! The morning ended back at the College Inn with Marc's first geology lecture -- where he promised that we would, by the end of the trip, "get it," since he planned to repeat everything 71 times.

The afternoon began immediately with lunch back on the Dixie State campus, this time in the Red Rock Cafe with the students, great and abundant food in a bright, cheerful, positive space. In fact, it was so uplifting a space that I found myself, while chewing, having sort of drifting thoughts of being back in school. Didn't last ...

This photograph was made from the back of the Gardner Student Center looking toward St George proper. Don't focus only on the couple in the foreground. Check out those clouds, and allow yourself to imagine ominous music beginning to waft through the air.

Then, we set out to take a look at some of the geological formations Marc had talked about before lunch. First stop: a church parking lot north of St George for views of cinder cones and the Pine Valley Mountains (below), an example of a laccolith (an uplift caused by the intrusion of molten igneous rock between layers of sedimentary rock), one of the largest in the world.



Our second stop: Snow Canyon State Park. By the time we were off the bus in this georgeous canyon the ominous weather fell upon us, lightening strikes rapid and close, the rain heavy. Although sad not to be able to scramble over the rocks all afternoon, we were pleased with Chrystal and Marc's plan B.

First, a visit to the next canyon to the west, Padre Canyon, site of Tuacahan Center for the Arts.

What a location for a 2000-seat amphitheater, not to mention a highschool for the performing arts.

And, second, a leisurely drive through Kayenta, a desert community west of St George, featuring sustainable homes and Coyote Gulch Art Village -- all set in the signature red rocks of the region.

Supper at Chuck-a-Rama (better than the name intimates, I promise) ended this very long day. I am remembering a statement in the post-registration packet we received -- "Please note: There is very little free time during this program." If today is any measure, they were telling the truth. I am already a bit saggy and am hoping that sleep comes without a fight and lasts all night.