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.

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.