We think we choose our own path,
Until in canyons we stray,
And find our intentions bounced from wall to wall,
Our illusions winked out in profound shadow,
And our conceits dissolved in bright and clear and beckoning pools.
Thomas Holt Ward

                                                    YES VIRGINIA THERE IS AN ARCH (OR TWO)

Arches National Park is an American icon, and rightly so.  In this one park alone it is claimed there are over 2,000 such features, more than anywhere else in the world.  I’d come here to see more than I did last time, a grand total of three and, on the day of my arrival I scooted up and nabbed another, Double Arch, which is a ball shaped hole in the rock with two huge gaps up the top.  I’d managed to climb into that and have my picture taken, along with about 10 other tourists at varying intervals.

Now, it was three days later and I hadn’t seen any more and I was off tomorrow.  Time to make some sort of effort.  In order to capture the best light I left in the dark and reached a spot where a feature called Balancing Rock stood.  It was there I pulled up because of the amount of other vehicles coming in, and I knew where most of them were headed, because Delicate Arch is the one most people want for a shot of the sun coming up behind an arch.

So I sat there in the car while several others passed and, when the dark started to become light, stepped outside of the car.  It was about then that I realised my flannelette shirt and windcheater were inadequate for warmth.  The bracing wind off the nearby snow-capped La Sal mountain peaks took the short route and my exposed parts were freezing.  Trying to stay focused on the task at hand wasn’t easy but, having no idea of how the sun would actually strike the features, kept my mind alive to possibilities.

The first rays kissed the summits and it was time to move.  The thin band of cloud offered little in the way of assistance in colouring the sky so it was time to concentrate on the rock formations and wait for the sun to bless some of the walls.  Soon there’s a curved wall with brightness on its upper parts and I make for that and spend probably nearly half an hour wandering around its precinct.  To be honest, I’ve never seen shots of this particular unnamed outcrop and the fact that there are no footmarks indicates that it’s well down in the pecking order of chosen photographic subjects.  Still, there’s no-one else here fighting for an angle.

Eventually I’ve worked the dawn here long enough and head up towards Devils Garden, the end of the road, but I don’t quite make it because I can see numerous opportunities en route for something unique, ever my goal.  The light is almost perfect and every venue delivers so that by the time I reach the Devils Garden loop I can’t be bothered stopping and head back to base once more.  Still, I did get to see Skyline Arch at one of the stops, that’s one more.

Afternoon rolls around and it’s time to make one last effort, probably at Landscape Arch, even though Delicate Arch is the one most pictured and I’d intended to see it but I’d been as far as the carpark on the first day and couldn’t get a spot so; for my last sojourn, I punched on to Devils Garden, the end of the road inside the park. 

There were quite a few of the desired features up here I was led to believe, including the thin Landscape Arch that you could walk beneath once upon a time.  That was prior to Wall Arch, located along the popular Devils Garden Trail, collapsing sometime during the night of August 4, 2008. Rock has continued to fall from the arms of the remaining portion of the arch necessitating the closure of the Devils Garden Trail just beyond Landscape Arch, which also partially collapsed in 1991, giving enough warning so people beneath could flee as a 60 foot slab dropped 180 tons of rock on the floor, leaving a decidedly thin lump of curved rock.

After parking I shuffle off on the sandy well-worn trail, bypassing two off trail arches before Landscape.  It’s a cool arch but the light is difficult; it’s really a dawn shot, so I decide to continue.  Surely the next arch isn’t far?  Except that the trail gets difficult here and you climb up and along a rock slab to the next level before veering left.  There’s a turn-off to Partition Arch but I only probe 50 metres before returning and making for Navajo Arch.

I have no expectations, just looking to get the numbers up so I can at least say I saw some.  As I near Navajo, it’s apparent that it’s more like a cave.  Someone else is taking pictures and, as it comes clearly into view, I bless my luck.  For there, right before me, is a rock pool beneath the centre of arch and late afternoon light is streaming through the hole, reflecting on the water and the light is rebounding to the roof of the cave.  Wow, my dream come true.  These circumstances would only come together if it had rained recently and it was the right time of day, approximately 15 minutes before the sun dipped below a nearby outcrop; and I had fluked it.

Another hiker arrived and we all shared names (Corey and Brad) before walking back to Partition Arch.  Suddenly I felt a lot more like going there with company.  It, too, was worth a view and you could walk underneath the Entrada sandstone and gaze at the panoramic views across Cottonwood Wash.  There’s also another small arch adjacent that, in time, will join the main one.

Strolling back with Corey and Brad was, yet again, a lovely experience.  There’s this camaraderie among hikers that’s hard to ignore.  Just wanting to be out in natural surroundings makes for a special bond, something you don’t get wandering around a supermarket, and it’s sad to bid farewell, but we all have to go our separate ways and I can reflect that, at least, I finally got another three arches.

                              A DAY OF HARD KNOX

When we’d first arrived the afternoon before, we’d gone to the lookout, where we gazed wistfully into Knox Gorge.  Away to our right, who knows how far, there was a tree at the base of a slot canyon, one I determined was special.  Its white bark was such a contrast to the iron stained cliff behind I just had to go and get a picture of it on the morrow.

The next day started well.  We were first (just) down the steep slope into Knox Gorge ahead of a busload of backpackers, only we turned right and they went left on the main trail.  Where we went there was no sign that man had trodden here.

We worked our way towards the upper end of the gorge.  The trails here in the canyons are all classed 5, just like the one we had done the day before and, at times, it was very tricky getting past obstacles and avoiding the seriously cold water, such a contrast to .  More than once we helped each other, either pushing or pulling, climbing the layered cliffs of iron ore to find a route upstream.

The rewards however were views of yet another of Karijini’s masterpieces.  We later overheard a local ranger say that some rate Knox as the prettiest of the lot.

Nothing quite prepares you for the stunning reds as the sun sheds light on this 2 billion year old landscape, pushed up from the ancient ocean floor by forces beyond your imagination.

As we clamber our way along the edges the cameras click endlessly and there are moments when we find it hard to continue, such is the magnificence of the spectacle and the hypnotic peacefulness of the surrounds.

Karijini continually exceeds its promise, and there’s so much to see.  We forced our way around a bend, scrambling yet again over the layered rock to be confronted by paradise for photography.

Dramatic red cliffs, studded here and there with precariously clinging vegetation, all set beneath untainted blue skies and coursed by a crystal clear bubbling stream with intermittent mirror pools.  Fodder for the soul indeed.

We located the tree at some stage and it didn’t disappoint, but we suspected there would be more.

What could have been a 90 minutes walk had taken us well over three hours and we adventurously pushed on before deciding to climb a virgin scree slope off to the right in order to get us to the top of the gorge and avoid all the obstacles going back.

Here again there were no trails, just picking gaps in the lawn of the apocalypse (aka spinifex) as our feet slipped on the crumbling rock slope beneath.  At the heights the spinifex disappeared and in the next half hour we continually checked out from whence we’d come; at once admiring the outback landscape and then peering back into Knox.

The motorhome was a welcome sight but that day’s experience would live with us forever.