We’ve been living off the beaten path these days and we’re finding it’s tricky to get internet and a good plugin in order to keep up on the blog. Anyway, here goes.

The next day we moved (yet again) to an almost-free campsite closer to Arches called Drinks Canyon. We were a stone’s throw from the caramel Colorado River, deep within two canyons and much further from town. Emmylou, being the naïve girl she is, jumped in immediately and was submerged under the current. We had her on a leash (again, the strict leash laws), and drug her in by the neck as she scrambled like, well, a frantic wet dog. Later that day we had a Wilson moment (remember Cast Away?) when her ball fell into the river, and, holding her back, she watched with the equivalent of dog tears as her beloved ball disappeared around the bend.

With the sun beating down we waited until dusk to head to the park again. We were the only ones driving into the park as the sun set; all other visitors were high-tailing it to their hotel rooms, fatigued. The arches were especially spooky, making my heart beat audible in my ears as I walked close to them. There was something moving about their stature, as if we were walking in a lightless New York City at night, craning our necks to see the skyscrapers.

We stretched out on the hood of the truck, bewildered. This moment could only be described by the poem by Li Bai:

Tonight I stay at the Summit Temple.
Here I could pluck the stars with my hand,
I dare not speak aloud in the silence,
For fear of disturbing the dwellers of heaven.

Later that night we had a fire with our neighbors from New York.  They owned a maple syrup farm in a town about 2,000 people. We had dozens of questions about the inner workings of such a trade, and they said people are so interested in helping some will do it for free, simply for the experience. After a beer or two, they mentioned (wink wink) the fact that they have an extra thirty acres that they’d love to lend to someone in exchange for that someone to own a herd of sheep. There was a pause, and she said, “We just would like to look out our window at some sheep”. Makes sense, I suppose. They also mentioned the small niche that is opening up in New York for sheep’s cheese. “It’s a French thing—and it is so delicious. . .”

It’s amazing the things we’ve learned so far.

The next day we hiked to straight up a steady incline that leads to Delicate Arch.

Sweaty, we got there right around sunset. We sat there for quite a while. It was magnificent.

That next afternoon, after walking through the art shops and getting some groceries in town, we hiked the Negro Bill Canyon trail near our site. It winds along the stream through cottonwood and willow trees, cut off from the desert above by sandstone cliffs. At the end, around two miles in, Morning Glory Natural Bridge spans the head of one of Negro Bill’s side canyons at the end of the trail. You can kind of see it off in the distance in this picture:

Every day, the ebb and flow of campers was consistent. We never saw the same people twice. The last evening in Moab we had three visitors; a freelance videographer couple on their way from Maine to California then to Ecuador to film (Autumn and Leif were there names—I swear—I can’t make this stuff up), and a science-math-engineer type guy (Ben) who takes climate change facts from scientists and converts them to mathematical principals that can be studied. I think. The conversation was great. These people have been EVERYwhere. They told us we have to visit Switzerland, and to come visit them in Ecuador. We laughed and said Emmylou kind of anchors us in the States, and plus what are we made of money? It was such a sweet luxury to listen to their stories. After the couple left for bed (being from Maine I’m sure it was like 5 am or something their time), the conversation turned philosophical. Becoming a scientist changed Ben’s views on life, he had this overwhelming feeling that nothing really mattered. “The time humans have been on this earth is nothing! Its just a tiny blip on the calender of the earth. Look at that canyon. Those rocks were there when the dinosaurs were around, and they don’t CARE about you. Look at the stars! There is probably life out there, looking back at us! But it doesn’t matter! Humans will come and go and life will go on—” he said, arms outstretched and staring upward. We nodded, agreeing, offering bits of our thoughts here and there, but mostly listening.  We were cooking potatoes on the fire, and he continued, “I mean, look at those potatoes. They don’t care about you! They don’t give a SHIT about you!” he said, exasperated. We laughed. What a great night.

 

Next stop: Bryce Canyon.