Desert Aphorisms and a Hint of Sarcasm

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Anthropology students are all inevitably subjected to a discussion on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs; how we must meet our physiological needs in order to feel the need for safety, love and, ultimately, self-actualization. Four years at a university and I had always assumed that contentedness and freedom could only come when self-actualization was achieved. Four weeks on the road and I realize now that there is nothing more freeing and exhilarating than having no more pressing thoughts other than where to lay our heads at night, and how to prepare whatever food we'll eat. Americans are always hung up on the concept of freedom--what it means, how we have so much of it, why it's just so great--and the word gets thrown around so much its true meaning becomes so obfuscated under the weight of platitudes and jingoism that although I'd considered previously what freedom means to nations and societies, that I'd never considered the actuality of a personal freedom. Freedom from commitments and deadlines and internal pressures pushing me towards some lofty goal years down the road. Freedom from that little voice that says, "No wait! If you don't do this and this and that you'll never succeed!" How irritating that the little voice never provided a definition of success.

When we leave Yellowstone we have a vague destination in mind. We know we're heading south into Utah, but Utah is too large a place to fit completely inside our tent, so where we'll end up specifically is again left up to chance. Chance and impulse. Most of our driving decisions are now determined by which road goes over the fewest mountain passes, and since that road, US 89, also happened to go through the least amount of civilization, our second decision was based upon where we could legally sleep without fear of a rancher out with his shotgun at 3am. We weave across the Wyoming/Idaho/Utah border on roads too small and infrequently traveled to warrant signs announcing the state line, periodically passing areas identified as part of the Oregon Trail. A sense of forgotten abandonment permeates most of the settlements we pass, and it is easy to imagine the amount of difficulty the early pioneer settlers had when crossing through this way in covered wagons over 100 years ago. A few more hours and a traffic jam later, we arrive in Salt Lake City. We've been on the road all day and it's nearing dinnertime so we figure here is as good a place as any to stop. There are a few campgrounds in the Wasatch-Cache National Forest east that may be promising so after a meal in the city we drive for another hour up into the mountains. By the time we arrive at Tanners Flat campground its already dark. Luckily the campground host is a nice old man that directs us to one of the larger, picturesque sites nestled back against the rapids of Big Cottonwood Creek. The only stipulation is that we have to be out first thing in the morning as practically all the sites are reserved. The family occupying this site just happened to not show up today.

The only thing harder than setting up a tent in the dark is having to haul all the camping equipment past giant boulders with only one flashlight between the two of us in the dark, but we managed with only a few stubbed toes. The next morning we wake up to streams of light cascading down through the tree boughs with the gentle roar of water somewhere close-by. Had we known such a picture perfect retreat existed out here we may have planned to spend some more time up in these hills, but as it is we have to check out by 10am so let those with reservations enjoy it instead. We head back down into Salt Lake City to see if there is anything going on. We drive around the perimeter of Historic Temple Square, gazing up at the spires of the Temple and assembly hall. These grounds are the headquarters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and not being Mormon, we wouldn't be allowed in many of the buildings anyways so we decide not to tour on foot. The Mormon Choir was practicing later that day, but not for another six hours.

The influence of the church is evident throughout the area, especially considering Salt Lake City has one of the largest population of Mormons anywhere on earth. From what little we know of the Mormon religion we are pretty sure that family plays an important role in life and happiness and if we weren't sure before, we are now. As we leave town, we see parking lots of full of large minivan mothers with children in tow. We pass the first of many billboards obviously targeting the Mormon demographic. A young girl, maybe ten, is seen leaning on a rock smiling. The caption reads "Take her fishing. She'll be married soon enough." We laugh, certain that we're not the only ones who feel its message is out of place. We were wrong. The second billboard is advertising a new housing development. They don't market their three-car garages or gourmet kitchens. Nope, it's the extra large laundry rooms that are being touted! "Two teens, toddler and twins on the way? Lots of living space. Extra large laundry-rooms." I tell Andras that I hope never to have to select a house based on the size of the washing facilities. He agrees before spotting the billboard to beat all billboards, and I miss it! I was probably looking at a map. "A happy life is a happy wife." Yep, we're definitely in Salt Lake City. I must say that the people are incredibly friendly though!

The drive from Salt Lake City to Capital Reef National Park is even more mind-numbing than the drive yesterday. I know this country is large, I've driven it several times before, and yet I am still amazed at how much vast nothingness there is this far west. We exhasted our collection of music days ago and radio reception is intermittant at best. We stop in the small town of Loa to pick up some supplies--it's the first grocery store we've seen in quite a while and could use some ice. Unfortunately we forget to fill the tank up with gas so it's not until we already start heading into the park that we realize the next gas station is 40 miles further and we won't make it. We U-turn back and 30 minutes later are back on our way.

Capital Reef National Park not only encompasses the colorful rocks of Waterpocket Fold, it also protects the archaeological remains of the Fremont Culture, contemporaries of the Ancestral Puebloans living in this area between 700 and 1500AD. Then later in the 1870's, Mormon settlers moving west found their progress blocked by the extreme terrain and set up settlements and orchards that exist to this day in Fruita. I will admit that it is the prospect of tree-ripened fruit is what has drawn me to this area. The presence of petroglyphs is an added bonus!

The town of Fruita appears as an oasis in an otherwise dusty landscape. Orchards of cherries, apricots and mulberries line the banks of the creek-bed, slowly drying up in the summer sun. We’re about a week early for the apricot harvest which disappoints me greatly. My mouth had been watering thinking of the firm, sweet flesh in my mouth and fresh fruit would be such a welcome change from the dried boxes and canned foodstuffs we’ve been surviving on. Andras finds a loophole in park policy that states that although fruit cannot be picked in quantity until the official harvest, visitors are welcome to pick and eat any ripe fruit they come across. As we walk under the heavily laden limbs, Andras selects some of the riper apricots from the upper branches and we revel in natures bounty. A lone tree still stands with pie cherries so we pop some of those tart red globes into our mouths as well. We languish in the shade a while before getting directions to the backcountry campground.

We’re already tested the braking ability of our car on the steep mountain passes, now we’ll test the traction on the sandy washes leading to Cedar Mesa. It sounds so nice “Cedar Mesa”, evoking images of shady groves of cedars, when in reality there’s more scrub-brush than anything. That and red ants. It’s not a matter of selecting the campsite without red ants, it’s more a matter of selecting the campsite with the smallest nest in the least convenient place. Did I mention it’s 102F (39C) and there is no source of water? Our only other option is to drive the 30 miles back and pay to camp in the developed parking-lot of a site near the visitor center so we make the best with what we’ve been given and decide to shorten our stay from two nights down to one. We wanted a change in scenery right? Goodbye mountain glades, hello southwestern desert.

We awaken with the sunrise, sticky from a combination of sweat and what exists of the morning dew. We plan a short 2 mile hike through the Wash, the steepest part of the 100 mile fold formed over 50 million years ago, exposing various sedimentary layers of rock. The name “Waterpocket Fold” comes from the divots worn into the rock which collect rainwater. Even though this is one of the shortest hikes we’ve done in a while, I find it completely exhausting. The heat is really starting to get to me even though I’m carrying plenty of water. Andras is relatively unaffected by the temperature and with his encouragement we both make it to the two mile point before heading back to the trailhead. They say that slow and steady wins the race, but the slower we went, the further overhead moved the sun and the hotter it got. We feel tiny and small against the sheer rock walls which tower overhead and by the time we return to the car decide that enough is enough. Lets get out of this heat.

We head west towards Arches National Park knowing full well we have virtually no chance of finding a place to camp there. It is agreed that we’ll splurge for a night in a hotel, so the “Campground Full” sign that greets us at the rangers station doesn’t sway us a bit. Whether it was our magnificent planning, or dumb luck, we reach the Delicate Arch trailhead leaving us just enough time to reach the monument near sunset—perfect lighting conditions for photography! I made the mistake of wearing some hiking sandals rather than just boots and on the way down my feet are straining against the straps. I take them off and enjoy the rough smoothness of the slick-rock all the way down until the trail becomes gravel. We get lots of incredulous looks from those on their way up, but really it was quite comfortable! The setting sun provides the perfect backdrop to the spires, windows and weathered sandstone turning the rocks brilliant shades of burnt orange and vermilion while the sky changed magenta and lavender. And as the sun sets we turn back onto the freeway, destination unknown.

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Photos

Delicate Arch
Some say it looks like lady's bloomers, other say it looks like a cowboy's chaps. Who's to say how long it will last before it erodes away.

Three Gossips
Silhouette of the Three Gossips formation.

Apricots
From the Mormon orchards of Fruita

Delicate Arch
I think this is one of my favorite shots of the arch, taken as the sun began to set.

Waterpocket Fold
Andras provides scale for just how large this wash really is.

Sandstone Formation
The swirls and deposition patter of sandstone in Arches NP

Andras Looking at the Arch
We climbed up the rock a ways and found a window ledge. Our own personal area of contemplation.

Stephanie hiking the Wash
Alright, I was exhausted, okay?

Petryglyphs at Capital Reef
From the Fremont occupation somewhere around 1200AD

Comments

[capsfan2002]

Great Photos
I was just there in September and you captured it wonderfully.