Utah

Utah
The Loneliest Road
Previously when I thought of Utah the first images that came to mind were the Church of Latter Day Saints, a big salt lake, and Karl Malone. Now, Utah will be associated with landscape that is desolate and barren so as to evoke images of Dune or some other Sci-Fi novel. Yet, there is undeniable serenity in the desert. I appreciate the beauty, of course, so long as my A/C is working properly. Thousand foot tall mesas span the horizon. The erosion from water runoff makes for interesting and symmetric ridges on the mesas’ sides. Much of drive on I-70 could be described as (beautiful) wasteland, but it does not compare to the 43 miles on US-128 one needs to take to get from I-70 into Moab. There are no power lines or exits. Billboards? Probably wouldn’t be capturing the broadest of markets. For the first twenty miles we saw absolutely no other cars. Naturally, we took the opportunity to take some vanity shots in the middle of the road. The second 20 miles was along found us along the Colorado River and in between high canyon walls.

Disappointment
We try to make it to Arches by “magic hour”, the time around dusk and dawn where the lighting makes for dramatic photographs. The sun sets before we can get into the campsite, and we do not make it. What’s worse, the campsite is full, and we must turn around and drive the 18 winding miles out of the park to find either a campground along the highway, or possibly find logding in Moab which thankfully is only 3 miles outside the park’s entrance. It’s already 10pm and we’re hungry, so first thing’s first. We choose to eat at none other than the very definition of Fare Americana: Denny’s. The nametag on our waitress reads “Tammra”. When the plate of pathetically small portioned chicken fingers and lukewarm unbrowned potato slivers disguised as hash browns arrive, they are not accompanied by the forks, knives, and plates that are “traditionally” given to customers alongside the “food” served in a “restaurant”. When we ask Tammra if we may have all of the above, Tammra responds not apologetically but with a rather surprised, “Oh, yeah…sure.” Oh Tammra…how I miss you. Unsatisfied and delirious we decide to make camp at Motel 6.

We Make Magic Hour
After 5 hours of sleep we park in Devil’s Garden campgrounds, which is the trailhead for the park’s most scenic hike. It’s 5:50 am and the sun is just rising. The good news is we make Magic Hour. The bad news is that we have a 7.2 mile hike ahead of us (if we want to see all arches along this particular trail, which we do), and the only food we have is half a box of Honey Bunches of Oats I brought from D.C. In our haste we did not think of such trifles as “necessities”. Clearly, there is no other decision to be made other than to do the full hike, Honey Bunches of Oats in hand.

It’s about eleven o’clock when we make it out of the trail. The parking lot that had one other car in it when we arrived now has over 80, including school buses and campers, with more still coming in. The sun is ablaze now, and I do not envy the people just starting their hikes. After a brief stop in the visitor’s center at the park entrance where I buy a refrigerator magnet for Mom and make a sad attempt to flirt with a couple of women from Taiwan, we are on the road again. Grandpa Paul and Grandma Mary, and Grand Canyon National Park are waiting for us in Arizona.