Perhaps the strangest thing about writing over a year later is realizing how little has changed. Our great trip West became a great trip East which eventually led us home. Where we stayed. Chiz and I still live at home, we still work at the same office where we met five years ago. I even sold my soul for some health insurance and am working full time. Chiz is holding onto her soul with hopes of selling it to a public health related job in the very near future. I'm happy with my situation, but long for those forty days on the road. My job is far from boring, there's always something going on, but my entire world is contained within four roads. Those vast stretches of highway and endless canyons are a memory now, occasionally popping back into my life on documentaries and calendars. There's nothing to do now but save up my ample vacation time and know that I'll get back to that life soon, if only for short periods of time. For now I will blog.
When I checked in with the blog to see where I left off I was surprised to see it was at Moab, UT. Arches National Park, located in Moab, is much like the Grand Canyon in that I cannot accurately describe it. Never in my life have I felt more disconnected from what I previously accepted as normal.
Chiz and I started the day at the local mechanic shop. Our taillight had burnt out and we needed it fixed. After dropping it off we walked along the road into town to get breakfast. It was mid-October yet the air was dry and warm. The sun bounced off of the red rocks surrounding the town and I suddenly realized this was the first time I had truly seen the desert. Up until now everything had seemed like a bigger version of something I had already seen back east. The Rockies were giant versions of the Appalachians. The Redwoods were the woods behind my elementary school only on steroids. The Pacific Ocean was a Snooki-less Seaside Heights. Kicking up the red dust along the quiet highway brought no parallels. The blinding glare of the sun hitting dirt and sand reminded me of nothing. I was experiencing something completely and totally new.
We found a breakfast place with ease and sat down for our usual pancake breakfast. It was the offseason in the tourist town so the restaurant was quiet and filled with locals. The town sheriff, complete with ten-gallon hat sat down at the table perpendicular to us and proceeded to eat his meal in silence, never taking his eyes off of us. A few tables over some other tourists argued with the waitress over how many cinnamon rolls they thought they could eat. They soon regretted their fight when she brought over a roll for each of them, each the size of a birthday cake. After eating our pancakes (which we declared fine, nothing special though) we walked back up the road to get the car. The mechanic hadn't left his desk since we had left and it was clear the car wasn't ready. He jumped up when he saw us and quickly went to go fix the light. Thanks, buddy. We got our car back and headed down the road to Arches National Park, ready to break out the National Park Pass one last time.
Arches visitor center was small, but informative. While others tended to focus on how parks have changed over the last 150 years or so, this visitor center brought you back millions of years to the parks creation. As I touched pieces of two million year old rock as well as rocks that had fallen from the moon I realized that this was going to be a special place. A place that defies time and space.
The visitor center film strip, my favorite part of any visitor center, also took a different turn that most film strips (ok fine, it's not actually a film strip...but I like that image better). Whereas most parks focused on the parks history and infinite future, Arches also focused on former arches and collapsed rock formations. A magnificent arch the size of a football field was shown as well as footage from the day it collapsed. A giant of nature, brought down by a breeze. The video ended with the narrator imploring us to go out into the park immediately because you never know when another arch might fall. It was both sobering and invigorating at the same time.
We got back in the car and drove up the road into the park with a sense of urgency. As the visitors center dropped out of sight we were on our own, slowly making our way through the most breath taking rock formations I could ever imagine.
Our first arch was reached by a seemingly short set of stairs carved into the stone. These stairs were deceptively steep and Chiz and I were left winded at the top of them.
We carried on until reaching the stopping point for Delicate Arch, the symbol of Utah. The viewing platform for delicate arch can only be reached via a hike through various terrains. The arch itself takes an additional hike out across the sandstone, only seasoned hikers are recommended to visit. The long hike up gives you a good reason to stop at the top and enjoy the scenery. From the arch, which is impressive, to the wide expanse of stone rolling out in front of you, it's all a sight to see.
We moved on through the park stopping at various sites, gaping for awhile then continuing on. We expected to do the same at Sand Dune Arch but instead found ourselves relaxing in a narrow sand floored cavern for what seemed like hours. After following the path up a stone pathway and through a narrow entrance we came to Sand Dune Arch. At the suggestion of the Indian family already playing on the arch we took off our shoes and felt the smooth sand between our toes. The sand was so fine it was like walking on a bed covered in silk sheets. We clambered up and down the rocks and cartwheeled in the sand as if this were our playground and we were having the most exotic recess of our lives.
Chiz and I made sand angels and lay in the sand contemplating just how we got to this moment. During our moment of zen the Indian grandmother behind us noticed she had lost her barrette and shouted "SHEET!" leaving us in convulsions of giggles. We would have moved into Sand Dune arch if given the chance but we had the nagging words of the visitor center video stuck in the back of our minds "Go see Landscape Arch before it's too late". It was getting late and we needed to get over there before dusk.
We trekked down to Landscape Arch, waving to different friends we made along the way. A National Park is the ultimate equalizer. No one owns the park, no one is a townie, no one is an outsider. Everyone who is a visitor to the park on that day becomes part of a pack. You see everyone over and over again, but not in an annoying DisneyWorld way, but rather in a familial "we're on this trip together" way. Would I like to travel in the same car as these people? Not on my life. But I did enjoy running into "friends" along the way.
When we reached Landscape Arch we marveled at it's delicateness. On any given day a strong wind could snap it in two yet it stands strong and majestic. We stood for pictures with a somber mood. A knowledge that we might one day show these pictures to our children or grandchildren with the message that we were there when the arch was still standing. There are no guarantees that we will be able to take our children back to that spot to see that arch. This is really a fact of life for anything. Nothing is guaranteed to be there. The Arch just served as a tangible reminder.
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