THE CANYONLANDS EXPERIENCE

                                                  

There was a friendly couple staying at my B&B in Moab and I was pondering just where to go from a list of half a dozen places, but Canyonlands was the most likely.  So they gave me an insight into where to go and what to see.

In hindsight I’m not sure if it was the fact that someone gave certain areas a rap or whether what I saw wasn’t quite as good as I’d hoped but, somehow, despite the dramatic panoramas, it didn’t quite grab me as much as what I’d been seeing so far and I suspect that it was really because here, you just don’t get up close and personal to a lot of it.  There’s simply vistas in every direction and, interesting and scenic as they are, it’s not quite like the other places I’d visited where they’re in your face and all the more dramatic for it.

I kicked off at an appetisingly-named Grand View Point Overlook, purportedly one of the highlights and, in truth, it is memorable, but most highlights seem so far away, except for the edge of the cliff that you’re walking along.  There’s canyons and pillars and 100 photos waiting to be taken down there, but, for me today, it’s inaccessible.

Way below two rivers, the famed Colorado and lesser known Green River are reaching an intersection and they’ve both cut severe gorges into the flat plain beneath the escarpment that I’m standing on.  Beside them is the White Rim trail where 4WD and cyclists are getting close up and personal.  It’s a 100 mile “road” that takes a few days to travel I believe and looking way down you can clearly see some vehicles and bikes going ever so slowly like ants on a trail. That’s where I’d really like to be.

Way beyond are snow covered mountains, the Henrys is what I’m guessing, since I drove past them yesterday.  Somehow it seems out of place, like someone shifted it for the day, such is my disorientation.

It’s quite touristy here, being one of the main listed attractions, and the walk out to the point sees a steady trickle of people.  I get my photos and depart.  The next stop is the little heralded Orange Cliffs Overlook about a kilometre back.  There’s enough room for about 3-4 cars on the side of the road and it’s not really signposted until you alight and there’s an information board.  It contains the single most significant point about this national park.  In the early 1960’s, the Bureau of Reclamation chief Floyd Dominy was in a plane with the Secretary of the Interior flying over this very spot.  Dominy saw the confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers as the next dam site.  Secretary Stewart Udall saw it differently and, in 1964, President Johnson put his signature to Canyonlands National Park.

                                

I like this overlook; there’s no-one else, the panorama is just as bold and you can take your time without interruption.  The cliff curves around, taking your eye until it snaps beyond and there, miles away, is the stark butte called the Candlestick Tower.  The orange colours are mainly Windgate Sandstone with Kayenta Formation on top in which dinosaur tracks have been found.

Back in the car there’s a couple of other places I decide to have a look at and the next one up is Mesa Arch.  Since I’ve only seen a couple this trip I thought another would be nice but I’m worried there’ll be lots of people and you’ll have to wait patiently to get any sort of shot.  

                                              

I’m right to be worried. The good news is that you don’t have to walk all that far over a small rise and it’s there in front of you on the edge.  It frames buttes and mesas with the La Sal Mountains, where I will inadvertently journey tomorrow, in the background and it’s a totally different aspect to the other side of the neck I’ve come down.

Next up is Shafer Trail.  This place is dramatic because it’s where the road, so called, descends 1,400ft in quick time.  Once used to shift cattle, and before that probably a trail for Indians, it was totally upgraded to get mining equipment down there in the ‘50s uranium boom.  

                                           

Cars are moving, ever so slowly (you could seriously jog faster), down the gradient and it’s obvious that there are some seriously timid drivers negotiating the dirt road, and who can blame their apprehension at winding down a cliff face with not safety fence?

It’s equally as scary for me as I stretch around a corner of the precipice and get as near to the edge of a rock slab as I dare to capture a special angle with the camera, watching the cars creep their way along way below.  It must be good to be down there.  Maybe one day I’ll return, maybe not.