Day 13, May 1, 2010

Yesterday I stayed at the campsite - stretching, taking a few photos, journaling, and napping. Especially considering the new plan we intended to spring on Greg about hiking out the next day (today) this turned out to be very wise.

Katie, Meredith, Matt and I packed up and headed out at 9:30 (Saturday). Slogging through the sand was once again a bear and I felt slower than ever but of course I was with the faster hikers. We took breaks about every 50 minutes.

When the upper trail was in view I faced the fear of

the vertical dirt scramble. We took a break just before attacking it. I sat with my traveling buddha statue (he as a little hobo bag!) in hand, back straight, trying to let go of fear, meditating that some way or another I would get up this crevice of dirt and rock, even if it meant asking Matt to take my pack. Meredith went first, and Matter was below when I begin my ascent. "Go up sideways, that worked going down", advised Matt. "Use your stick girl!", called Meredith.

Amazingly I made in it one attempt. Meredith beamed at me when I stood at the top - "You did that in one move, no stops. You're awesome!" It was one of my best moment of facing fears, digging deep for strength during a trip that had many such internal rallies and moment of pride. The accomplishments of this trip were many, and this might have been the best one.

We made it back to the car in 5hr, 40min - two hours less than going in. Janet said I sucked when she found out I made it up that pass in one go with my pack and how fast, "And without

training for this!" Yep, I'm proud of myself.

More later just too tired, need to shower (YAY!) and brush my teeth before heading to bed. Tomorrow we drive to Salt Lake City.

Day 12 April 30, 2010

Wednesday the winds from the night before were worse and I stayed behind. It was an odd day of solitude, I spent about 6 hours in silence - reading, writing, thinking, and a nap.

The sound of the winds were inescapable except when I was in Katie's care, which was so hot and hadn't the energy to ask Matt (who was cocooned in his tent) for the keys to open the windows. I think I associate these kings of wind with storms so it was interesting not to have clouds most of the day.

When the sounds of air moving at howling rates across the mesa were too enervating to do anything but to lie still, I was able to compare the changes in speed and the resultant sounds to ocean waves. It was fun to do that, for a while, not the entire six hours. Unlike the ocean tides hitting the shore there was no grand great plan or order, it simply was.

Yesterday's hike to the Arch, pushed my limits hard. It is estimated we hiked around 7.5 miles. With stops and figuring out the trail, whether to take the high route or not, it took us just shy of seven hours. Matt and Meredith had gone up ahead of the rest us during the final stretch, and bless Matt's heart - he not only carried my tent (which was actually his since the one I borrowed for the trip was killed by the wind storm) during the hike, and my therma-rest pad for half of it, but he had set up my tent first thing when they hit our camp site before us.

Greg said, while I was climbing up from yet another river crossing, refusing a hand again, that he was surprised by my strength and determination on this trip but he didn't know why given how it's there in other areas of my life. I responded by saying I was just stubborn. He said stubborn isn't always such a bad thing to be.

Once getting to Jacob Hamblin Arch I was please to see very little in the way of cow patties that had marked most of the hike out. While it has been sweet to see cows not penned in, to see them along the road, and especially idyllic to see that fawn colored mama and calf in a shaded glen on the trail yesterday, one has to wonder about the impact on the land and water we have been transversing. Though fun in a twisted way to see shit piles in various phases of petrification, many looking like interesting sculptures, it is a reminder that this is a wilderness study area and not protected. What is the impact for the native wildlife, the soil, water sources? How does one get a dead cow out of some the places we hiked yesterday - what happens if they can't.

At one point during the hike Katie said she felt she had aged 25 years doing this march in. I rolled that phrase around in my brain, on my tongue but it had no resonance for me. If anything despite the exhaustion I felt, and would feel upon arriving at our camp site, it seemed this whole trip made me feel younger somehow, as if doing something far out of my scope, experience, and comfort zone fed my soul, made me realize how much could lie ahead for me if I so choose. It was an enthralling realization and probably helped to get me the next 3 miles despite feeling completely depleted of resources.

Day 11 Thursday April 29th

(It's been forever, I know, nearly a year but I will finish the last few entries.)

I am now at Jacob Hamlin Arch. It's been a very long day. The winds continued and given the condition of the tent I slept in the car which was less than comfortable. The best guess is that the winds settled around two in the morning. One cool thing about the disturbed sleep was seeing the moon set low in the western edge of the sky.

Waking before 7am the air was cool and the sky was clear in the east but a bit foreboding in the west. We all had a lot of prepping to do for the next section of the journey. Eventually we were all loaded up, many kudos to Matt (a recurring theme of this trip) for helping me then and later. Drove south on Hole in the Rock Road to Redwell trail head.

Once parked, we all took a moment to stretch before heading out at 10:37am. Initially the trail was not too bad and I had a good pace but slowed a bit later. There was some serious scrambling up and down hills, which gave me pause thinking of the climb back. Along much of this there were tracks of cows (and their deposits). As I went practically crawling up some of the inclines, I kept reminding myself that if a cow did this, than I could. Nonsensical but it provided a mantra to get me through. The hike was hard and long, at least 7 miles and the last two or so were particularly trying for me as my body was hurting, my limits stretched.

There were many river crossings starting about half way into the hike which tested everyone's balance on rocks, logs, and other flotsam. In addition we discovered that Matt missed his calling as a bridge engineer. The scenery was much greener, more lush than the last few days.

As we got close to where the trails converged the canyon walls got more beautiful - rich in desert varnish, mineral deposits adding incredible depth to the expanse of rock face. In one place there was the most amazing smoky whites to dark blue-purples striping the wall randomly.

Finally we got to where Redwall and Hurricane Wash meet up - from here it was supposedly a mile, it felt (and I think was) much longer.

Finally Greg said he thought he saw a glimpse of the arch, I thought I saw it as well but I did not dare hope as I trudged along. Happily it was the arch - grand, majestic - words barely capture the visceral reaction to this awe inspiring place.

My body hurts, I'm cold. We've had dinner, the sun is starting to go down as it's after 8pm. There is so much to say about yesterday, alone all day with the howling

winds, howmuch the wind takes out of you, the incessant noise scratches at your brain. More later.

Day 10 Wednesday April 28

Meredith, Katie, and Matt left the canyon (Brimstone) before Greg and Janet, so I hiked back with them. Well sort of, Meredith and Katie breezed ahead, while Matt went slowly with me, figuring out the path of least resistance as he put it. The guessimate is that I hiked about 4 miles and the descent (and hence the ascent) was about 500-600 feet (most of it in only one short section). I made the ascent in about an hour. My decision to head back to the Narrows rather than continue the hike with the crew was a good one for me - heavy sand for the rest of the walk out to the canyon. Hiking in deep sand is SO hard!

I can't remember a time when I heard my pulse in my ears as frequently as I have this week. The winds started kicking up on our walk back and have not relented one bit (the windstorm lasted close to 36 hours). As Matt and I neared our site, the other two were rescuing my tent from it's Queen of the Hill place as it swept from it's perch. Matt and I repositioned it to a lower place, little hope of a protected place in the mesa. Thanks to my blackberry we were able to get an idea of the weather. Sustained winds 20-30 mph with gust up to 60 mph. The hike, winds and I expect cumulative drain got to everyone last night; trying to cook in these winds was challenging and laughable by turns. However after a lovely sunset most of us stayed awake to watch the spectacular moonrise from the cloud banks.

Given the winds, a cranky groin and expecting the seven mile hike tomorrow I stayed behind, as has Matt (though I think for different reasons). I have taken advantage of the time reading and napping. Breakfast was not on my agenda this morning as I had a bit of bad coffee and a whole grain tortilla. Since then I have had a power bar, perhaps this explains some of the sleeping. Eating more might be good, so I did, but I am so tired of the lunch choices. I meandered between my tent (which was being flattened by the winds), under the juniper tree, or retreating to the car to escape the howling sounds. Really the constant noise was like torture after about 6 straight hours awake, listening, surrounded by the sound.

Odd dreams - my two exes (Her Geekyness and an earlier one) blending, leaving them/her, grateful it was their suggestion so I didn't have to do that piece (as I usually do in real life). Concocting how I didn't need to actually live with them during the time of giving notice on the apartment. Figuring how to explain going to Cleveland (where BC lives) but not caring a whole lot about the reaction.

One good thing about the wind, it's keeping the tent from totally baking. I have mostly figured and what will stay behind in the vehicle, clothes wise anyway for the backpacking portion.

I continue to be torn between being really proud of myself regarding this trip and feeling like I'm seen as the fat kid who slows everyone down, who breaths heavy with any light exertion annoying everyone who is in earshot. Yesterday during the descent Greg called for someone to give Janet a hand. There was no one really accessible except me, so I did. I was inordinately proud and stunned to be the person to spot her. Sometimes I feel like I will just cry and cry when I return to "civilization" release all of this, except it's not really like me to do that.

Utah Day 9, April 27

Dance Hall Rock was exceptional, it is such a wonderful spot and we were lucky enough to be the only ones there. The afternoon into evening was easy and simple.

Janet and Greg, and later Katie as well, were painting while

seated on the same shaded alcove.

We all took turns hiking about on and around the rock. We had a simple dinner, made a fire and had more wine. The moon rise was awe inspiring as it was almost full as it came up over some rock formations.

Moonlight cast a shimmering glow over our camp.

In many ways it was my best sleep which while not saying much, I am grateful for nonetheless. I woke pretty easily around 7 a.m. to the everyone breaking down camp, which I began to do as well. I was rather unreasonably please with my

first start to finish take down of my borrowed tent.

We headed back up Hole in the Rock Road the way we had come to Dry Fork Gulch; the trail head was packed, filled with folks about to enter the trail. It was close to 10am by this time. We turned around in search of a suitable camping site. Finding one where an older gentleman was working on his vehicle, we weren't thrilled is it was very open. The man, who was from Oregon, suggest we go down the path, heading further towards some more varied terrain. We found the perfect site and I set my tent a top the highest mound, playing Queen of the Hill.

Unloading quickly Greg sussed out how

we might hike from our site to our intended goal for the day. Heading out it soon became clear we were blazing an infrequently, largely unused trail. Lots of scrambling down slick rock and building cairns to mark our return route. My knees let me know they were less than thrilled with this plan but such is life.

We found what we thought was the chalk narrows we were aiming for but later we learned we were mistaken. Leaving there we heading toward Brimstone Canyon, entering it was cool and shaded. The stone he

re has more of a pink cast versus the orange of Zebra. Here at least was the Dry Fork Narrows that we thought we had come upon earlier. We partook of lunch here and after some guidance from fellow hikers we gathered ourselves to see Brimstone.

The heat was not bad, the rock was gorgeous. As we turned up stream (no water, just the language and shadow of where water once flowed) we entered a beautiful sandy stretch with a line of trees in the distance directly at the base of the rock face. We marched through the sand around the bend and I did a body check - my ankle had began to ache again, the right thumb joint that is sometimes troublesome was hurting. Taking into account that it was close to another mile in and we still had to head back to camp I made a judgement call and turned around, back to the Narrows. While I tempted to go further than the Narrows and test my trail skills I knew it would make Greg nervous if I was not where I said I would be for meeting up.

At one point a group came by where I was resting and asked if I was from the party of 5 or 6. Yes, I replied. "They said to say hello". It's a largely sweet, affable world this hiker's universe.

(a shot from back at camp, the end of sundown)

Utah Day 8, April 26

Yesterday we made our way to the Boulder Mountain Lodge where they did our laundry - oh happy day! This place is beautiful, just sumptuous, after a week of camping even more so. I walked over to the Burr Trail Outpost which is an artisan shop and cafe of the most charming arrangement. Met a woodworker, Dennis Bertucci, who is originally from Brooklyn; when I told him a bit about my work with G & J, he said I should get in touch with a local artist, Amsel Springs (who Janet and Katie met by chance a few days earlier - small world, no?) because he thinks Mr. Spring should be shown in NY. It was a delightful encounter.

Our dinner at Hell's Backbone Grill was lush with beautiful presentations and complex flavors. (I want their cookbook!) After dinner Greg and I worked on sorting all the food in our traveling pantry by meal category then by meal, then by car camping versus backpacking. By the end I was tired and my right arch was aching. Heading back to my room the disaster of my belongings exploded on the bed faced me and I moaned with exhaustion, wishing for a fairy godmother to magically pack it up. Instead I called BC while lying on the bed in a stupor; eventually packing while talking. Per my usual I did not fall immediately asleep - my mind was racing over details. While talking to BC, I spoke about how much I was pushing myself physically and in other ways, the tears of pent up emotions leaked out but I would not, could not fully let go. Perhaps it would have been better to have done so. There was something about talking to her, or talking with someone not part of this allowed all the vulnerability of this come to the fore.

For the first time this trip I got too hot while sleeping - it was a delic

ious annoyance. In the morning I showered again, just because I could! We all met up for breakfast at Hell's Backbone, again the food was excellent and oh my god, real coffee! I decided to pass on the Anasazi Museum which was fortunate as I had forgotten that I had scheduled an interview with a writer from the Art Calender, which went very well(I'm in this issue).

During this trip I find myself randomly sexually hungry and wish BC were here. It feels a little different out here, more primal, organic. Maybe in all the big silences out here one can feel, hear their body better. I just feel it ride through for the moments it's present until some other stimuli takes precedence.

Now we are in Devil's Garden, inside the Escalante Staircase National Monument. We will head next to Dance Hall Rock where we will camp for the night. Tomorrow is another night elsewhere. All of us are in different dyads or alone right now. There is a nice breeze floating over the landscape which obscures the sun's heat a bit. At one point while walking around the hoodoos, I could not hear or see any of our party - thought about what having that sort of space is like, to be connected and yet not at all; each of us in

our own world within arelatively small acreage. It is a luxury few of us have with any regularity, some almost never. I wonder if some folks, particularly the very city bound would find this scary - this big sky, silence except for pure nature, meandering paths that exist in the wild. No lines, or lights to help them pinpoint themselves in place and time; how many would cower under the moonlight, hearing the wind careening through these canyons, find

the layers of flaking mud on the Harris Wash unearthly.

The silence at night, on cold hard earth is one the loneliest moments for me, even as I take pleasure to be far from what I know. Physically uncomfortable, little is soft, the air cold, confined by a mummy sleeping bag, I suppose some would find this almost akin to torture. I rather relish the discomfort of the body and soul in this discreet time. It is a

challenge to let go of expectation, to be in the now, to try not to yearn for the other world.

Utah Day 7, April 25

The hike back took a little less time and initially I had a really good pace but after a while the climb back up out of the Harris Wash and up from the canyon floor took it's toll. I worked hard not to gripe even as my left calf started to howl at the strain. Finally we made it back to the cars and I don't know that I've been happier to be in front of a car.

We settled back at camp where I orchestrated a great dinner of brown rice, canned corn with chipolte, canned salmon with wilted spinach and a squeeze of orange juice. Thanks to Meredith we had delicious wine - Menage a Trois from Folis a Deux (a place I visited when

I lived in California); it was a very indulgent night; a very jovial dinner with all six of us recounting the day, telling other stories, and generally

joking around.

The evening air was warmer than it had been, which was nice for my sore muscles and joints. In the lower campground the sound of the stream

was a beautiful accompaniment to the sounds of our laughter while a three quarter moon rose over the cliffs behind the raised campsite where Meredith and I had our tents.

Earlier Greg and I had been talking about how I was doing; I was trying to use words that were not too demoralizing in my self-assessment (being fat, out of shape, last in line, low lung capacity when he said "inexperienced". My response was that was a much kinder frame than I had for myself.

As every night I am amazed I do not simply crahs as soon as my head hits the floor. At 10:45pm I woke needing pee out in the cold. Crawling out of my bag I found a suitable spot mere feet away, promptly returning to my cocoon. For some reason I resisted the notion I was cold and foolishly did not add a layer until much later. Throughout the night my left knee woke me with a great deal of pain, to the point of my whimpering pathetically in my tent.

Weird pregnancy dream: Dorm/Doctor resident setting. Not sure who I was but there was a woman who was pregnant, but hiding it. She birthed a baby boy and asked me to hold/hide it. Somehow the baby pushed himself back up into my uterus and then I searched for a place to rebirth it, away from our colleagues.

On an odd block, vaguely desolate, ghetto like, I found a medical storefront of some murky nature. Entering a stall I pushed the baby out along with other matters which I initially thought was the uterus lining like from a menstrual cycle but when i touched it, or flipped it, it more resembled an early fetus that had stopped growing inside me, slightly deformed, as if it were further along than the size indicated, very red. Not sure but I think it registered as male to me. Suddenly someone was there and suggested I nurse the baby I had rebirthed. I had some kind of pump attached to my breast with a tube that could go to the baby's mouth. I was stunned to see milk but realized if i had also been pregnant than of course I could produce milk. (I suspect the tube/pump/breast is in part because of using the camel packs for water.)

I dumped the excess blood in a medical waste container at this place and made my way back to the dorm. I ran into two women, doctors, who asked if it was my baby and I said, "No, it was ____". Later I saw the mother hidden away in her room nursing the baby and wondered what was going on. Then we were having a meeting and she announced how she had lost that weight they were bugging her about and showed off her new svelte figure. I found the two doctors and said she clearly wanted the baby a secret and to forget what I had told them. They were amenable to this.

I am very confused at the meaning of the dream. Pregnancy and birth are often about creativity and growth. Does the dead fetus represent something I lost or let go of that I don't remember, that I didn't fully release? Why are all the babies male in my dreams? Rebirthing someone else's baby, after being given the baby? I don't think I have my own innate talent? Or am I both women and I am showing myself the way - the old me has moved on?

As I write today I am sitting along the Escalente River, on a trail beside beautiful rock face, hearing the river rush by, the sun is out. Greg is near me painting, the scent of turpentine perfuming the air. My body is greatful for the day off from hiking. I cannot wait to get to Boulder Mountain Lodge to take a shower, wash my clothes and sleep in a bed where it's warm.

(This photo is of Janet surrounded by trees near the river.)

(The photo below is from the drive to our next stop.)

Day 5 - Friday April 23

We all woke at 6am to break camp down and load up so that we could make it to Calf Creek Falls and score two camp sites since this place is first come, first serve. Our car with M, M, G & I hit the road at 7:30. Katie and Janet stayed for a while to explore the canyons at the camp.

The road was beautiful, with a key sighting of Prong Horn Sheep - one was crossing the road ahead of us to meet up with his herd. I was able to get a few photos but none too close unfortunately. We arrived at the camp early enough to score two lovely sites near each other. Greg helped me set up my site since he had so much energy and his tent was with Janet. I t

ook a short nap while waiting for the rest of our party to arrive, which turned out to be fortuitous given the hike that was still to come.

At about 2pm all of us started on the Lower Calf Creek Trail, with M, M, & K quickly moving ahead. Janet and I took a lot of photos which slowed us more than my pace alone would. Early on I struggled with the climb even while enjoying the vistas. The path rose and fell with the landscape frequently shifting from marshlands, to plains, to a trickling creek to river. This area was overall much greener, almost lush compared to the first days. The presence of a stream changes so much; it snaked nearer and farther from the trail. It's hard to believe that all those colors in the rock are not the rock itself but the effect of minerals and rain shifting formations of blocks and stripes that dance across the surface. The beauty of all this is hard to describe because it is so vastness that it is almost overwhelming to absorb. The rock goes from barely having color to this incredible deep red streaked with rock varnish - a particular combination of minerals that is a black-purple coating sometimes in blocks

or great swatches of the rock face, other times mottled as to form a picture in w

hich everyone would see a different image.

The plant life included cacti, segmented scrub grass, safe, holly, some species of oak, juniper, and pinyon pine. there were a number of small flowering plants - yellow, pink, purple and white blooms abounded. There were also

pictographs high on the wall on the rock face opposite of our trail; there were also ancient graineries built into the hollows of an overhang.

At various point I heard what sounded like it might be the waterfall which filled me wit

h hope but it was the wind winding through the canyon. There were posts with numbers delinatinating interesting points of the trail. At #10 I saw the accompanying pamphlet which told me that the end point was #15 and I doubted my ability to to finish the full length. Just before #12 I told G & J I was going turn around. I had seen people coming back from the falls who were older than me, heavier than me but clearly I thought they were stronger. I had been using the image of a very old woman who was being carefully led down the trail as inspiration but in the end it all failed me. As we took a break M, M, & K were coming back towards us and encouraged me. After a time assessment, some swigs of electrolytes, and handing off my camera weight to Greg, I trudged onward.

Making it to the 125 foot waterfall was a grand reward. The pool of water looked like an oasis, greens on the rock face under the flow, ferns growing upside down on the canyon to the left of the water, the serenity of it. Here the tempe

rature was significantly cooler and the sweat running down my back chilled rapidly. Adding layers, eating some food revived me a bit, so I got up to explore just a bit.

Soon I decided to start back, figuring that G & J would easily catch up with me. In the stream I again spotted the trout with the leopard print design, saw a pair of mallard ducks and much to my surprise came upon a small stand of mule deer. Tempting as it was to unpack my camera, with them so close I declined, simply enjoying making eye contact in silence with them.

The light had changed by this time and the rock, scrub, and trees became beautiful anew. It looked like the sun, which was lower in the sky, was making the light rock even blonder on my left which then was reflecting onto the red next to me, causing it to look like a glowing ember.

I took great delight in the numbered posts descending as it marked my progress. Once or twice I got a little disoriented on the trail and had to take a moment to place myself. Much to my amazement G & J never quite caught up with me. It was during this time alone that I had my first epiphany. Back in January when I "accidentally" ran, BC asked me if it made me feel like I could do anything. My response was "No." But today? Today I felt like I could do anything. This was a life changing day for me. In the end I had hiked 6 miles, a large accomplishment for me. When I returned to the camp I was tired, achy, cold and crabby but I also realized that I had done something huge. I was a different person in some hard to define way that would live on forever.

Utah day 4, April 22

From my journal:

Just to note this marks 12 weeks of daily writing - perhaps the only thing I've done daily for that long except eat and sleep.

I never got totally warm during the night; the rain stopped by around 2:00am I'm guessing as I got out of the tent to pee at 2:45 and it was quiet. My knees, particularly the left one cranked at me most of the night. Sleeping in bad positions and being chilly made my neck scream as well.

By Greg's thermometer it was 32F degrees at dawn. Our tents had frozen rain covering them, which meant we needed to wait for them to defrost and dry before packing them up.

Driving over to Green River I was so tired all I wanted to do was nap. A short visit to the John Wesley Powell Museum was on the agenda after which we stopped at an excellent funky cafe place with a Native American gift shop attached. From there we left the town of Green River and the last vestiges of civilization. Green River is largely a ghost town with a lot of empty store fronts; typical desert town. Quickly there was nothing, hardly any traffic.

Now we are in Goblin Valley State Park for one night. My energy and mood improved but now after setting up camp and showering I am ready for a nap. I also need downtime, so though Katie just joined the group (after flying into Moab) I am in my tent scribbling, warm at last with one long side facing south.

I alternate between feeling so defeated at my limitations and thrilled with what I've done the last few days. I am grateful at how well I am getting along with and enjoying Matt and Meredith which a large unknown for me. Now that Katie has arrived the dynamic will shift again, more so since we now have a second car. I suspect we will take turns keeping Katie company.

Tomorrow will be a long day of driving but we will be there for two nights and then Sunday will we be in a lodge, which no matter the conditions (just about) will feel like a huge luxury.

The sky here is so huge, vast, endless. Variations of clouds and shades of blue are ever changing, always beautiful - a mix of wisps, puffs, shaded, fluffy the clouds are compelling.

Later we will go on a hike to see the Goblins; a mile and a half loop is being proposed. I think I can handle that. As long as it's not too steep in either direction. Water, camera, and extra layers are the things I need to carry.

Later....

At the Goblin Valley Overlook - what gives you a vast lowered old sea floor of these structures that are like babe voodoos (though they may be geologically different materials). Especially when looking out over them they look squat, almost smurf shaped. They also call to mind a baby god playing in the surf dropping wet sand on itself for hours and hours.

Walking down to the floor of this geological anomaly the scale shifts dramatically as you realize how they tower over you. It is possible to climb up on them, even balancing on one leg for a

fun vacation photo as I observed other visitors doing. Out behind the bed of goblins are the tall jaggedly cut rock that as so common here; mostly dark brown, with subtle shaded striping running horizontally. Further beyond that is this amazingly verdigris rock, the color of that blows me away every time.

Utah Day 3

(I think this is my 600th post! Wow.)

Wednesday 21st of April

Today's plan was to head to Arches National Park. Lovely drive in, someone noted upon our first sight of the rock formations that yesterday was all about looking down into canyons and today would be all about looking up. So true. As we drove in, we stopped frequently to marvel, take photos and just absorb the beauty. Our stopping points included Courthouse Towers.






Balanced Rock - which had a nice walking path. Later we learned that the balanced rock was 55ft tall with the overall formation being 128 feet.











The major walk of the day was done at the Window Section where we hit the South Window, Turret, and the North Window, returning on the longer "primitive path". Along the path we found a lovely place to sit on some rocks and partake of lunch.




Later we went to the Fiery Furnace which Meredith was completely intrigued by. This site is hikeable with a ranger and that's done by appointment. When we arrived a group was heading out, and various members of group debated sneaking along.

Heading north we stopped at Devil's Garden Trailhead, where we split from Matt and Meredith - so they could hike faster and further. Greg, Janet and I took our time, stopping at Landscape Arch, where we found a nook to draw and write but rain started - heavy but short, cutting short our more esoteric activities. Rain in the desert is different, a treat in a way. Given the weather we decided to head back. The water made the rocks glisten - for about five minutes before it dried.




We drove back down, stopping at Park Avenue Viewpoint and Trailhead, again separating briefly. Greg, Janet and I drove to the other end, saw the lower bit of a rainbow that sat next to us for quite some time.


Some of the group were experiencing strong cravings for beer which decided our next destination - Moab Brewery, where we had a great meal. Upon heading back to our campsite we drove to Dead Horse Viewpoint to watch the sun go down. It was great to experience that location in the strong light of day and again to see how light plays with rocks.


Upon arriving back at our tent site we found there had been lots of activity - the winds had blow sand furiously into our tents, Matt's tent had flipped over, my fly had been put on wrong so it had blown off and in addition to sand, rain come in, leaving me with a damp sleeping bag. After putting my fly on correctly I took my bag into the rest room using the hand dryer to make my bag sleepable.

So here I am lying in my sandy damp tent, listening to the rain, not exactly cold, not completely toasty either. In some ways I am already overwhelmed and saturated by all the visuals. My body is sore, I am bone tired - the sun (yes I am a bit burned, though not badly), the physical exertion, the conversations, the nonstop beauty and the awe nature inspires are all a lot to absorb, assimilate. I can hear Greg snoring already. It's so much and the trip has just begun. I am wondering whatever possessed me to do this trip but I am enjoying it, just wondering how to balance everything.

With the noise of the rain I am tempted to call BC. What the hell I will try. We spoke very briefly but it was good to hear her voice. It hasn't been that long since we spoke but when I heard her on the voicemail after dinner it felt like it had been forever. I think because the days have been so full and so long.

It is almost 10pm MST, time to maybe put on another layer and get some sleep.

Utah Day 2

From journal pages:

Sleep was not good: cold, hard, unsettled and my knee whimpered on and off which raised some alarm as I worried how it would fair in the upcoming days. After a fair bit of puttering, reorganizing we headed out to Dead Horse State Park proper, walking around, taking in the vistas. We hit the Visitor Center where I found cards by a local artist that called out to me.






From there we headed to Grand View Outlook in Canyonlands. Every moment of this walking and riving, this small hike has been beautiful. The vistas are so large, vast offering a sense of scale that those on the east coast or midwest cannot take in unless coming here. Photos, specials on PBS cannot hope to inspire the awe that one experiences when being here. It's like your chest releases and expands at once; the reality of your day to day life, the smallness it encompasses is thrown into stark relief. It recalls, a bit, of the trip I did as a child driving from New York City to Montana one summer. We were not a camping family so I did not grow up doing these sorts of things but that journey impressed an image of the country as vast - culturally, where it seems as if we had entered a different country at times. it was then that I first was caught spellbound by the colors in the canyons as we drove through the Badlands of South Dakota; knowing nothing then (or much now) about geography I didn't know what I was looking at, not really, except the beauty particularly when the lowered rays of the setting sun cast incredible illuminations in my sight line.

It is the striations of colors and the canyons within canyons that still strike me, the way the clouds obscure or set off shapes and lines, even shifting the perspective of depth. The other visual feature that moves me as it always does are the tree corpses and the half dead arching, brittle, stripping barks. Bone white in places, dark as a starless night on others; the high contrast between the stripped wood and dry terracotta dirt, the green of the more succulent plants draw my eye every time. I long to capture these but photos rarely convey what I see in my mind's eye. It is one of those times I most earnestly wish I could draw, to translate my vision to hang on wall once home. These fibrous bones are my happy place, baring impact on the landscape, standing through generations, listening as the ravens play over head, lizards crawling around the exposed roots, hiding in the nooks of their limbs. Always beautiful at each stage of their existence, the same elementally, yet visibly varied at each state.

Scale is hard to judge out here. On the way back down from Grandview Outlook, we could see the parking area looking like a tiny dot but yet it felt like no time to get close, yet we walked more than a mile. Later we went to Upheaval Dome, a site of some controversy. It was a short walk, only about 1/4 of a mile but climbed 200 feet in that short span - comparing this to my walk in New Paltz which climbed that height in more like a mile. Down in what is left from either an exploded salt dome or meteorite is the amazing palette of color, verdigris only there is no copper. It is shaped differently from what we have seen so far - sharp,, long horizontal peaked edges. Juniper trees crop out of the earth and stone surfaces all about us, their green foliage and deep brown trunks contrasting nicely with the dune to deep terracotta earth. Smaller scrubs form a pattern which is probably based on the path from rain rivulets in the wetter months. The sky immediately above is a deep clear cornflower blue, fading slowly as your eyes travel to the horizon, some areas almost blending with the deeper gray blue of the mountains about fifty miles in the distance.

So ends my second day in Utah.