Note: This is a long one, but it's a good one. "Good" being a relative word that sometimes means "very bad".
We got into Moab last night around 9 p.m. By that time, it was fully dark outside, but still hot hot hot outside. Oh, Utah, I'd forgotten how hot you can be. (Cue Hudson pointing out "But it's a dry heat." Yes. Yes, it is. But it's still frying pan hot out there, even at night.)
This morning, we had breakfast at Denny's (yeah,I know - caloric overload), then drove into Arches. First hike was an easy one - Park Avenue, one of the first stops in the park. It's called Park Avenue because the large monolithic slabs of rock reminded people of the walls of buildings in New York city. It was still early, so the sun was still behind the east wall, which meant part of the trail was in the shade. Beautiful! It's a one-way trail, not a loop - either someone picks you up at the other end, or you turn around and hoof it back on your own. We hoofed it (a bunch of weenie tourists had their tour bus waiting for them on the other side. Amateurs.)
I wanted to revisit double arch, but we had a hard time finding it - couldn't remember where it was. So we drove out to the Delicate Arch viewpoint, where we could see the Delicate Arch from a distance. I remember when we did that hike - it was a cloudy day, thankfully. We had no idea how lucky we were, because that was our first time in Arches. Now, under a hot sun, we're breaking a sweat even making the short ascent up to the Delicate Arch viewpoint.
On to Devil's Garden. We decided it was too hot a day to attempt the back arches that I want to hike, so they're on the do-over list for next time (yes, next time). Instead, Stephen wanted to try out his vehicle's off-road capabilities. We take the Salt Flats gravel road out to the Klondike Bluffs, which are an impressive stand of red and white rock formations. They're actually pretty remote from the rest of the park. We're going to do the Tower Arch trail, which is listed as "strenuous" (we're training for Zion), and then we'll drive back on a 4x4 trail which will eventually take us back to Balanced Rock.
The Salt Flats road is not paved; it's a 13 km gravel road, with slippery spots and several annoying washboard sections. Tower Arch is a 5.5 km round trip hike, one way in, same way back out.
When we finally get to the Klondike Bluffs, there's only one other car in the parking lot. Like I said, this is remote. We start off on the trail, and right away we're climbing up the bluffs, climbing over box-sized rocks, like a steep stairscase. whoo, hot. We're taking our time, looking for rock cairns (because sometimes we go too fast and "anticipate" where the trail is, and then we eventually find out we're horribly mistaken. Cairn, cairn, cairn. Just like in Wyoming, we keep ascending to other plateaus, except there's another beautiful view beyond each.
We get to the edge of the Marching Men rock formations, then head down into the valley. It's hot. Cross the valley, then start going uphill again. There's super-soft sand, really fine squishy beautiful sand that you'd find on some tropical beach somewhere. You know what's not fun? Hiking uphill in sand. It's really, really difficult. We're both huffing and puffing and sucking back water by the time we reach the top. Stephen finds a massive rock that's throwing a bit of shade for us to rest in. Then we go the last little stretch to Tower Arch. It's huge. And, because of the way the rock slabs are placed, it's completely hidden unless you hike in and around to see it. We climbed up to sit down in the shade of rocks below the arch, and sat down to catch our breath for a while. "Hello!" and it echoes back 'hello'. "Help!" Stephen yells, and it helpfully repeats that back to him. (In retrospect, maybe that should have been considered a bad omen?)
Time to go. We put our packs back on and take out our trekking poles for the return trip. It's much easier to go downhill on sandy slopes. Oh my goodness, it's hot, and it's a long way back to the Marching Men. Once we finally get back to the Marching Men, we know the end is in sight (which is one of the nice things about straight trails - you already passed through, so you know where you are). The trekking poles earn their keep on the way down the very steep stone "staircase" - extra footing.
Another car has pulled into the parking lot - we chat with the two for a bit before they head off on their hike, and we head toour doom the back loop of the 4x4 road.
It starts out as a red dirt road. Nothing the X-Terra can't handle. At first. Then we're heading upward. Then we're confronted with what I would call a f#@%ing big obstacle. It's several big boulders, surrounded by mostly washed away sand. We can't get over that. We can't. It's not possible.
But Stephen thinks we can, and he says I should get out and be his spotter. I try to wave him up the hill, but the vehicle keeps bouncing and sliding back. If at first you don't succeed, try try again. Which he does, and finally manages to vroom up over the impassable rocks.
I tell you, I wish I had been filming it. I'd filmed his first attempt, but then realized I needed to be more overtly directing him, so I stopped. But you know those ads where cars are effortlessly bouncing over those big rocks in wilderness settings? It was like that, but much scarier - there was a point where the left front tire and the right back tire were free-floating entities, which he does a weird diagonal balancing act and then fortunately found solid ground again.
Like I said, I wish I'd been filming it so I could have showed it to him. He said he could tell it was scary by the look on my face. Big wide eyes, horrified expression, and the "oh no" gesture where you put your hands over your mouth.
However, crisis averted. Onward and upward, right? Right. Because now we don't have much choice - we can't get back that way, right? The trail says North-South direction is recommended, and that's the way we're headed, so we figure we have to keep going. It'll get better.
But we keep driving upward over these horrible bumpy rock stairs. The vehicle is yawing back and forth. In the reality show of my life, the censor is busy bleeping out my speech. "This is not a road. F#@%! This is not a f#@%ing road!" The vehicle grinds as it bottoms out again. "Sonuvabeach! Where's the gas tank on this vehicle?" Stephen suddenly regrets not getting skid plates on the bottom of his vehicle.
And how long does this 'road' go on? We haven't even travelled one mile yet, and I'm scared. I've got that 'I'm really scared' queasy feeling in my stomach, because all of my internal organs are busying tying themselves in knots. I'm afraid we're going to tip, or roll, or lose a tire. I'm also afraid because there's no one else out here. Do the rangers patrol these stupid trails at night? It's 39C outside.
We stop the car and scout ahead a little way. More and more of those rock steps, now going downhill. Problem is, we have no idea how long this "bad" part goes on - whether it's a short patch, or half the way, or all the way.
The hell with it - I want to go back. We argue briefly about it, not in the "I want to do this and you want to do that" way, but in the sense that neither one of us knows what we should do.
Stephen finally figures that going back is a known quantity, whereas going forward is a total unknown, so we decide to turn back. Fortunately, we had stopped in an area where we were able to turn the vehicle around without doing a 23-point turn. We're heading back, which (known quantity or not) is still not an easy task.
Eventually, I have to get out and run ahead of the vehicle, directing him over the rocks, and tossing the smaller ones out of the way. We're making good progress, but there's still that horrendous rock obstacle standing between us and freedom.
It's freaking hot outside, and I am running in front of a car, throwing stones off the road. This is what prisoners on a chain gang do. But I'm so much happier to be doing that vs. sitting inside the vehicle and hanging on for dear life as it rocks back and forth. That probably says a lot about how much fun we were having then.
If we bomb out here and the vehicle gets stuck, we're going to have to hike out, but I'm thinking that at least we're close enough now to the trail head that we've got a chance of getting back to the road before the other two hikers finish Tower Arch trail, and then maybe they'll see us. Hopefully, it doesn't come to that, but they're the only other people out here.
We stop at the boulders, study them for a while, and I think I've found the only safe path out. We have to skirt along the edge of one boulder, without falling into the sand pit next to it, then (right at a certain point when on top of the boulder), Stephen has to crank the wheels and make a sharp turn to avoid the other sand pit. All while heading sharply downhill.
We got the vehicle lined up; he started down, then I made him stop and readjust because it was slightly off. Stephen wasn't at all happy during this part, but he kept going when I kept waving him on. From his perspective, it was really scary, because he couldn't see the road at all, and the vehicle is teetering on an incline he can't see and dropping downward, and he was afraid he was going to roll or do a noseplant. However, the vehicle lurched and bounced safely past the rocks, and how we didn't lose a tire, I don't know.
Thank you, God! I am ready to kiss the sandy ground in front of us, and maybe erect a shrine there, dedicated to all stupid drivers who attempt things they shouldn't attempt to do. Freedom! Shiny, happy, mobile freedom! We are SO relieved, you have no idea. Or, after reading this, maybe you have a little idea. (By the way, the picture above does not do it justice, but it gives you an idea of the incline and the size of the rocks.)
After our escape from 4x4 hell, the gravel rounds seem like the happiest roads on earth. And then when we're back to Devil's Garden and PAVED roads! So fabulous. And safe.
We drive back to visit my favourite, Double Arch. It's beautiful. We hike up to the arch and climb into the middle and sit in a shady spot. Happiness.
After that, Stephen's too tired for any further hikes (although we do walk the super-easy paved pathway around Balanced Rock).
Then it's goodbye to Arches. I love you, Arches, but I'm afraid it's not mutual - you always try to kill us. :-(
The rest of the day is thankfully anticlimactic. Our last to-do (for this visit to Moab) is a scenic drive down Highway 128. It winds around right behind Arches. When you're driving there, you see how they set the boundaries for the park: there's a giant impassable wall of rock that goes on and on, and one side of that wall is Arches NP, and the other side is the rest of the world.
There are a lot of hiking trails on this side, and there's a river running alongside the highway, with busloads of people coming and going to whitewater rafting, or kayaking. (Add to to-do list for next Moab trip.)
We drive out to Fisher Towers, with a wee bit of offroad trail. "THIS is a road," I remark. Washboard and sandy, but it's entirely passable. We take a few pictures at Fisher Tower, then hop back in the car when the clouds overhead start thundering. I'm wary of being near any washes if it starts raining.
Then it's over to Castle Valley to see the Castleton Tower. You can climb it, if you're a freaking rock climber. Hey, we're not rock climbers. No more adventure for us today, please.
Back to Moab, fill up with gas (apparently the gas tank is still intact), buy some munchies, and back on the I70, heading west on another long drive towards the little town of Hurricane (and Zion tomorrow).
Because, after today's misadventures, what could go possibly wrong in a town called Hurricane?
We got into Moab last night around 9 p.m. By that time, it was fully dark outside, but still hot hot hot outside. Oh, Utah, I'd forgotten how hot you can be. (Cue Hudson pointing out "But it's a dry heat." Yes. Yes, it is. But it's still frying pan hot out there, even at night.)
This morning, we had breakfast at Denny's (yeah,I know - caloric overload), then drove into Arches. First hike was an easy one - Park Avenue, one of the first stops in the park. It's called Park Avenue because the large monolithic slabs of rock reminded people of the walls of buildings in New York city. It was still early, so the sun was still behind the east wall, which meant part of the trail was in the shade. Beautiful! It's a one-way trail, not a loop - either someone picks you up at the other end, or you turn around and hoof it back on your own. We hoofed it (a bunch of weenie tourists had their tour bus waiting for them on the other side. Amateurs.)
I wanted to revisit double arch, but we had a hard time finding it - couldn't remember where it was. So we drove out to the Delicate Arch viewpoint, where we could see the Delicate Arch from a distance. I remember when we did that hike - it was a cloudy day, thankfully. We had no idea how lucky we were, because that was our first time in Arches. Now, under a hot sun, we're breaking a sweat even making the short ascent up to the Delicate Arch viewpoint.
On to Devil's Garden. We decided it was too hot a day to attempt the back arches that I want to hike, so they're on the do-over list for next time (yes, next time). Instead, Stephen wanted to try out his vehicle's off-road capabilities. We take the Salt Flats gravel road out to the Klondike Bluffs, which are an impressive stand of red and white rock formations. They're actually pretty remote from the rest of the park. We're going to do the Tower Arch trail, which is listed as "strenuous" (we're training for Zion), and then we'll drive back on a 4x4 trail which will eventually take us back to Balanced Rock.
The Salt Flats road is not paved; it's a 13 km gravel road, with slippery spots and several annoying washboard sections. Tower Arch is a 5.5 km round trip hike, one way in, same way back out.
When we finally get to the Klondike Bluffs, there's only one other car in the parking lot. Like I said, this is remote. We start off on the trail, and right away we're climbing up the bluffs, climbing over box-sized rocks, like a steep stairscase. whoo, hot. We're taking our time, looking for rock cairns (because sometimes we go too fast and "anticipate" where the trail is, and then we eventually find out we're horribly mistaken. Cairn, cairn, cairn. Just like in Wyoming, we keep ascending to other plateaus, except there's another beautiful view beyond each.
We get to the edge of the Marching Men rock formations, then head down into the valley. It's hot. Cross the valley, then start going uphill again. There's super-soft sand, really fine squishy beautiful sand that you'd find on some tropical beach somewhere. You know what's not fun? Hiking uphill in sand. It's really, really difficult. We're both huffing and puffing and sucking back water by the time we reach the top. Stephen finds a massive rock that's throwing a bit of shade for us to rest in. Then we go the last little stretch to Tower Arch. It's huge. And, because of the way the rock slabs are placed, it's completely hidden unless you hike in and around to see it. We climbed up to sit down in the shade of rocks below the arch, and sat down to catch our breath for a while. "Hello!" and it echoes back 'hello'. "Help!" Stephen yells, and it helpfully repeats that back to him. (In retrospect, maybe that should have been considered a bad omen?)
Time to go. We put our packs back on and take out our trekking poles for the return trip. It's much easier to go downhill on sandy slopes. Oh my goodness, it's hot, and it's a long way back to the Marching Men. Once we finally get back to the Marching Men, we know the end is in sight (which is one of the nice things about straight trails - you already passed through, so you know where you are). The trekking poles earn their keep on the way down the very steep stone "staircase" - extra footing.
Another car has pulled into the parking lot - we chat with the two for a bit before they head off on their hike, and we head to
It starts out as a red dirt road. Nothing the X-Terra can't handle. At first. Then we're heading upward. Then we're confronted with what I would call a f#@%ing big obstacle. It's several big boulders, surrounded by mostly washed away sand. We can't get over that. We can't. It's not possible.
But Stephen thinks we can, and he says I should get out and be his spotter. I try to wave him up the hill, but the vehicle keeps bouncing and sliding back. If at first you don't succeed, try try again. Which he does, and finally manages to vroom up over the impassable rocks.
I tell you, I wish I had been filming it. I'd filmed his first attempt, but then realized I needed to be more overtly directing him, so I stopped. But you know those ads where cars are effortlessly bouncing over those big rocks in wilderness settings? It was like that, but much scarier - there was a point where the left front tire and the right back tire were free-floating entities, which he does a weird diagonal balancing act and then fortunately found solid ground again.
Like I said, I wish I'd been filming it so I could have showed it to him. He said he could tell it was scary by the look on my face. Big wide eyes, horrified expression, and the "oh no" gesture where you put your hands over your mouth.
However, crisis averted. Onward and upward, right? Right. Because now we don't have much choice - we can't get back that way, right? The trail says North-South direction is recommended, and that's the way we're headed, so we figure we have to keep going. It'll get better.
But we keep driving upward over these horrible bumpy rock stairs. The vehicle is yawing back and forth. In the reality show of my life, the censor is busy bleeping out my speech. "This is not a road. F#@%! This is not a f#@%ing road!" The vehicle grinds as it bottoms out again. "Sonuvabeach! Where's the gas tank on this vehicle?" Stephen suddenly regrets not getting skid plates on the bottom of his vehicle.
And how long does this 'road' go on? We haven't even travelled one mile yet, and I'm scared. I've got that 'I'm really scared' queasy feeling in my stomach, because all of my internal organs are busying tying themselves in knots. I'm afraid we're going to tip, or roll, or lose a tire. I'm also afraid because there's no one else out here. Do the rangers patrol these stupid trails at night? It's 39C outside.
We stop the car and scout ahead a little way. More and more of those rock steps, now going downhill. Problem is, we have no idea how long this "bad" part goes on - whether it's a short patch, or half the way, or all the way.
The hell with it - I want to go back. We argue briefly about it, not in the "I want to do this and you want to do that" way, but in the sense that neither one of us knows what we should do.
Stephen finally figures that going back is a known quantity, whereas going forward is a total unknown, so we decide to turn back. Fortunately, we had stopped in an area where we were able to turn the vehicle around without doing a 23-point turn. We're heading back, which (known quantity or not) is still not an easy task.
Eventually, I have to get out and run ahead of the vehicle, directing him over the rocks, and tossing the smaller ones out of the way. We're making good progress, but there's still that horrendous rock obstacle standing between us and freedom.
It's freaking hot outside, and I am running in front of a car, throwing stones off the road. This is what prisoners on a chain gang do. But I'm so much happier to be doing that vs. sitting inside the vehicle and hanging on for dear life as it rocks back and forth. That probably says a lot about how much fun we were having then.
If we bomb out here and the vehicle gets stuck, we're going to have to hike out, but I'm thinking that at least we're close enough now to the trail head that we've got a chance of getting back to the road before the other two hikers finish Tower Arch trail, and then maybe they'll see us. Hopefully, it doesn't come to that, but they're the only other people out here.
 |
| This is NOT a road. |
We got the vehicle lined up; he started down, then I made him stop and readjust because it was slightly off. Stephen wasn't at all happy during this part, but he kept going when I kept waving him on. From his perspective, it was really scary, because he couldn't see the road at all, and the vehicle is teetering on an incline he can't see and dropping downward, and he was afraid he was going to roll or do a noseplant. However, the vehicle lurched and bounced safely past the rocks, and how we didn't lose a tire, I don't know.
Thank you, God! I am ready to kiss the sandy ground in front of us, and maybe erect a shrine there, dedicated to all stupid drivers who attempt things they shouldn't attempt to do. Freedom! Shiny, happy, mobile freedom! We are SO relieved, you have no idea. Or, after reading this, maybe you have a little idea. (By the way, the picture above does not do it justice, but it gives you an idea of the incline and the size of the rocks.)
After our escape from 4x4 hell, the gravel rounds seem like the happiest roads on earth. And then when we're back to Devil's Garden and PAVED roads! So fabulous. And safe.
We drive back to visit my favourite, Double Arch. It's beautiful. We hike up to the arch and climb into the middle and sit in a shady spot. Happiness.
After that, Stephen's too tired for any further hikes (although we do walk the super-easy paved pathway around Balanced Rock).
Then it's goodbye to Arches. I love you, Arches, but I'm afraid it's not mutual - you always try to kill us. :-(
The rest of the day is thankfully anticlimactic. Our last to-do (for this visit to Moab) is a scenic drive down Highway 128. It winds around right behind Arches. When you're driving there, you see how they set the boundaries for the park: there's a giant impassable wall of rock that goes on and on, and one side of that wall is Arches NP, and the other side is the rest of the world.
There are a lot of hiking trails on this side, and there's a river running alongside the highway, with busloads of people coming and going to whitewater rafting, or kayaking. (Add to to-do list for next Moab trip.)
We drive out to Fisher Towers, with a wee bit of offroad trail. "THIS is a road," I remark. Washboard and sandy, but it's entirely passable. We take a few pictures at Fisher Tower, then hop back in the car when the clouds overhead start thundering. I'm wary of being near any washes if it starts raining.
Then it's over to Castle Valley to see the Castleton Tower. You can climb it, if you're a freaking rock climber. Hey, we're not rock climbers. No more adventure for us today, please.
Back to Moab, fill up with gas (apparently the gas tank is still intact), buy some munchies, and back on the I70, heading west on another long drive towards the little town of Hurricane (and Zion tomorrow).
Because, after today's misadventures, what could go possibly wrong in a town called Hurricane?
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