Nightglow Window

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Spring Break 2007 – Day 4 – Into The Great Wide Open

The silence is out of place. These expectant moments before dawn deserve more than the rustle of wind. They need some grand theme, like when T.E. Lawrence extinguishes that match in David Lean’s Lawrence Of Arabia and the scene cuts to an incomprehensible sweep of Arabian desert moments before sunrise.

I sit upon the overlook wall at Goosenecks, feet dangling into space, as the sun climbs above the Nokaito hills behind me. The folds of the valleys below, interlocked like fingers, are granted depth by the new shadows. And still there’s that silence, as it must always be like here, to keep me company.

I’m sorry to leave, but there’s more to explore today. We finish breakfast and I take a walk out of camp along the canyon rim, stopping to take a long pee over the brink. Sweet freedom.

The Valley Of The Gods is on our right as we drive up lonely Highway 261. A diminutive version of Monument Valley, the Valley's red stone pinnacles are inviting, but an immediate challenge is dead ahead. The Moki Dugway is an improbable climb when viewed from the south, there’s just no way a road could scale those cliffs. And soon enough the signs come, warning of the grade – three miles of unpaved road that climbs 1,100 feet to the top of Cedar Mesa.

It’s sketchy and we’re relieved when Big Red makes it back to pavement and into the forested cattle country above. Grand Gulch is to our left – another spot worthy of future investigation. But we’re heading to Natural Bridges National Monument and don’t linger.

It’s cold at the visitor center – 37 degrees with a steady breeze – but we head off down the loop road to explore. Sydney and Hannah have their to-do list to become Junior Park Rangers, and they take to the tasks with gusto.

The arches start off underwhelming. The cliff ruins of Horse Collar Overlook are more impressive – especially since they could be 900 years old. The real iconic scene, however, comes last. The Owachomo Bridge is the oldest and most fragile in the park. It's by far the most beautiful. We hike underneath it, trying to forget that it may have a fatal crack. Then again, it could continue to stand for centuries.

Back in the Vanagon, everyone sacks out as I drive north on Utah 95 along the White Canyon. Alone with the scenery, I think and think as the miles roll by. It’s majestic and I’m happy to see what each bend reveals.

The Hite Marina is empty, like most of this wild country seems to be. We make lunch at the overlook on the other side, where Lake Powell ends and the Colorado River resumes. A few Europeans stop by – one Brit asks me how many horsepower the Vanagon has and I jokingly reply “seventeen,” then ponder if that's actually close to the truth.

The 95 north of Lake Powell is the most remote and desolate road yet. We see a bicycle touring couple, fully loaded, and wave vigorously. The Henry Mountains are covered in snow to our west. This was the last mountain range to be added to the map of the 48 contiguous U.S. states. Before their official naming by Colorado River explorer John Wesley Powell, they were sometimes referred to as the “Unknown Mountains.”

After Hanksville we turn west for Capitol Reef National Park – a huge place along Waterpocket Fold. Once in the park, we stop for some Fremont Indian rock art – petroglyphs – before finding a nice campsite by the apple orchards of the historic Mormon homestead. The campground host swings by in his golf cart, warning of snow. It’s chilly, but that forecast is a surprise -- especially since we're climbing to 9,800 feet tomorrow over the Boulder Mountains.

We’ll just have to see what the night brings.