Moab Rocks!

Someone must have put Felix Felicis in my pumpkin juice on Monday. It was that kind of day. Despite having allotted this week for a visit to New Mexico, I felt a pull towards Moab, Utah, so that's where I went. I've been reluctant to spend a "weekend" going there, since I've been there twice, but the second time, I didn't even go to Arches, and the first time, I was 11, so I decided it might be worth it. I was so right. A few diverting things on the way...a baby buffalo frolicking in a field, a truck full of rocks that had dumped its load over a large swath of road, the eye candy that is Utah.

I'd been getting wicked gas mileage. Haven't filled up since Buena Vista, and it was a day's drive from there, plus a trip to Mesa Verde. But I was still over 1/4 tank. Passed the gas station near Dolores. $2.73/gallon. Tempting, but I still have a lot left. Monticello would be a good idea. I COULD make it to Moab, but why sweat? I get to Monticello, and gas is $2.94. Dream on. Moab it is. A couple miles out of Monticello, the gas light goes on. Moab is 56 miles away. A gallon and a half. Should be fine. I drive conservatively nevertheless. 30 miles away. The needle is actually touching the "E". People are passing me. I'm passing things I might otherwise have photographed. I have too many Utah photographs anyway. 21 miles...I start watching the odometer. 20 miles. 19 miles. How long would it take me to walk to Moab? Would anybody stop to help me? Why didn't I bring a gas can like my dad did when he came to Utah? 12 miles. Hole n" the Rock. (Why do they punctuate it that way?) Someday I'll tour it, but must maintain constant speed. 8 miles. Billboards for Moab businesses. A Chevron travel plaza coming up. Sounds good. I'm counting miles out loud for the car's benefit. Speaking encouraging words. First gas station, whatever it costs. Fortunately, the road into Moab is downhill. A Shell station on the right!!! I think Shell might be evil. At $2.84, that seems likely. Besides, never stop at the first gas station you reach in town. Basic rule of the road. And that Chevron should be only a mile away. But what's this? Mavrik? Never heard of 'em. And for $2.62 a gallon, I don't need to. Filled up (14.7 gallons in a 15 gallon tank), all was well, and got the best price this side of the mountains.

And Moab is wonderful. It has cache like Boulder, and I remember it being much smaller, so didn't expect much--a yuppie-granola town. But it's big! It has multiple traffic lights! A functioning Main Street! Not a Wal-Mart in sight! And it's nestled between these lovely red, pink, and white striped mesas. Stopped at the TI to increase my stash of paper and ask directions to the Apache Motel, where we stayed in 1987. That hasn't changed. Then on to Arches. If that's changed, I wouldn't know--despite my photographic memory of the motel, Arches wasn't ringing any bells.

The guy at the toll booth (I LOVE my parks pass!!) tells me the campground filled up at 7:30 am. Big bummer. Mom said not to talk to strangers, but I ask him where else I might go and try to look poor and vulnerable. He directs me back a couple miles to a series of BLM campsites. After stamping my National Parks passport (right next to the 1987 stamp), I decided to secure accommodation before doing anything else. The first campground I see has sites available, doesn't allow RVs or generators, and is RIGHT on the Colorado River...in a canyon, of course. Set up tent, sweat buckets, back to Arches. The guy recognizes me and waves me in.

The road to Arches winds up a steep hill. No recollection of this, but I do remember the 3 Gossips formation. I have a photo frenzy as I drive along, following the line of RVs that signal Fourth of July week, and sitting on the car towel, which is more sweat-absorbent than the seat. As with the rest of Utah, the landscape changes every 500 yards or so, and is stunning in every incarnation. I've given up trying to describe it...just go there.

My day timed out perfectly. A short hike to Double Arch (or whatever its name is...meant to look that one up)--1/4 mile each way is plenty when it's 99 degrees and there's no shade. Saw a license plate from Chihuahua. In each National Park, I write down all the plates I see--Arches definitely had the greatest variety. 32 states, and the only one west of the Mississippi I didn't see was Montana (and someone at the canyon next morning was from there). Later in the day, I hiked in Devil's Garden, where you get to actually walk on some of the rock fins. I passed one guy who refused to go any farther when the world fell away on one side of the fin. The view was incredible, of course. Saw a bunch of arches, including what used to be Wall Arch, and is now two stumps, a pile of rubble, and a roped-off area with signs warning of danger. The famous Landscape Arch is also on this trail. I do remember hiking there when I was 11, and I think I remember sitting under it (if I wasn't too busy bitching at the trailhead), but it too is fenced off--a 60' chunk fell off in 1991, so nobody goes there any more (at least not legally).

7:30 pm. Next stop, Delicate Arch, the really famous one. A 1.5 mile trail with a 480' elevation gain. The National Park brochure actually says it's best at sunset. It also says if there's no parking at a particular place, you need to go away and come back later. Not a good combination. Especially when the car in front of me took the single open space. But I decided to go around again and someone decided to leave when I was coming up on them, so I got to park and go. The hike was brutal. Up and up and up and then down a little just to demoralize you and then up some more to make up for what you just lost, and so on. I understand why I didn't want to do it 22 years ago. But I pressed on, remembering that most of the hikes I've ever done have sucked a lot, and the payoff is always worth it in the end.

This one paid off in a big way. Going up was like being in a parade, and the crowd at the top was like watching one. There was an agreeable buzz in the air, though, and the swirling rocks were looking pretty agreeable, too, in their sinking-sun pinkness. And there was the Arch. The one that's in all the pictures. I didn't go under it last time, so I made a point of doing it now. Suffice to say it was nice. I walked around one of the legs so I was out of people's pictures and just sat, with my feet braced because it's pretty steep on the other side, and enjoyed the view and the ambience. You could see the mountains in the distance. You could see Balanced Rock and the other formations in the park. You could see flashes from cameras at the viewpoint a mile away. You could, just barely over the rocks and distance, see the parking lot where the cars waited patiently in the dozing light. It was magical. A pretty nice consolation prize for not being at the Lake. I stayed until most of the people had gone and it was dark. And still hot. I had my headlamp with me, but there was no need. The moonlight and lack of contrasting light bulbs was sufficient, and I hiked the whole way back with only my night vision.

Pulling onto the park road at night, I had a flashback to leaving the campfire program at Gros Morne, when I saw my first up-close live moose. Nothing like that here, though, just pretty nifty rock formations that look even niftier by moonlight. I'm becoming a fervent believer in National Parks by night. I stopped at Balanced Rock. With the shortest trail and one of the most wow-inducing formations in the park, it's a zoo by day. But I had it all to myself. Just me, the moon, the stars, and rock. It was still 85 degrees (much more bearable with no sun). I sat down right on the sidewalk and just hung out with the rocks for a bit. Remembered Murray Foster's birthday. Acknowledged how lucky I am. Added to my list of Top Travel Moments.