Memorial Day Weekend in Moab
It’s Memorial Day weekend and having spent the entire winter curled up indoors to escape the painful cold that lie outside of my front door, I was ready for a sunny adventure to kick off the summer festivities.
Our original plan was to go on a backpacking trip in Southwestern Colorado, but due to unexpected snow the weeks leading up to the weekend, we were forced to improvise. I’ve been to Utah many times already, but something about the desert excites me and draws me back time and time again. Out of eagerness to return to the warm, sandy desert landscape, I suggested that we venture out to Moab, Utah for our extended weekend.
We began our drive mid-day on Friday to avoid the traffic of fellow Coloradans escaping west. Over the course of seven hours, the landscape changed steadily. Quickly, we left behind the shiny buildings of Denver into mountainous terrain and as we continued westward, the Rockies showed their snowy peaks in a grand display. The mountains that once stood in the distance soon towered over us on either side, and soon we found ourselves threading through Glenwood Canyon - the gateway to the flat desert land of western Colorado.
Daylight quickly faded into darkness as we crossed the Colorado-Utah state line and we made the rest of our drive in the dark. We arrived in pure darkness at a dispersed campsite on BLM land just outside of Canyonlands National Park. We quickly set up camp, brightly lit with the unromantic fluorescent headlights of our cars, enjoyed a couple of beers around our campfire and made our way to our polyester tents.
Day 1
I was the first to wake up in the morning. A cold desert night made for poor sleeping conditions, and my old 45-degree sleeping bag didn’t provide enough warmth to get through the night in comfort.
I walked around the campsite with a fresh cup of instant coffee to admire the desert view around me. In the distance was a single hot air balloon that rose with the morning sun and descended out of sight as my friends began waking up.
Packing up our gear for the day, we began our drive to the trailhead of a 12-mile loop that I had picked out a couple days earlier. I enjoyed the look on the faces of my friends who were appreciating the desert views for the first time. Driving past the Moab giants, the dominion of the wind and water displayed it’s unrelenting power in the stunning red landscape. Fiery red spires broke out from the sandy desert, these mysterious lone-standing mesas shaped by a once powerful water source that has since relinquished its throne to the unrelenting wind.
Beyond the mesas lie intricately twisted canyons providing a path for the Colorado River to flow, and concurrently inviting the wind to whistle through it’s cold sheer walls. The first look down at the darkness below sparked a primal fear in my heart, but as I locked eyes with the depths of the canyon, I felt it begging me to look closer. Inspired and in awe of the grandness before me, I wished of one day stringing up a highline from one rim to the other to walk over the daunting darkness with confidence.
We arrived at the trailhead and began our steady walk alongside fellow adventurers that opted for a 4-wheeling adrenaline rush. As we began our Pritchett Canyon hike among the vegetation of of one Utah’s desert canyons, a handful of us looked up at the sheer rock walls on either side and shared in the desire to scale the cliff side to soak in the view from the rim.
The hot desert sun beat down on our exposed shoulders, and the warmth of the sun against our skin was everything we needed. At a turning point in the trail, we decided to stop to enjoy a 5-star lunch consisting of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a warm half-melted clif bar, a crisp gala apple and plenty of water.
Overlooking the canyon that we just climbed up, we picked out rock formations in the distance and started to name them based on the shapes they took. Far below were a wild gang of adrenaline junkies, trying to ride their 4x4s up the steep trails without tipping over.
After a moments rest, we decided to split up as a couple of the girls wanted to continue along the loop and a few of us wanted to head back the way we came. Dan had heard from a local that there was a “secret arch“ that was hard to get to, so the rest of us decided to head back quickly so we had enough time and energy to make it out to cable arch.
Julia, Dan, Zach and I raced back to the car and drove our way to the trailhead of cable arch, and I was certainly not prepared for the trek that lie ahead. The hike to the arch was more of a rock scramble, and with an injured ankle and a messenger bag containing my very expensive camera, I was hesitant to make the trip to the arch. But in a careful and steady fashion, the four of us made it to the arch without injury.
Approaching the massive arch and overlooking the canyon below, I was again, blown away by the strength of the natural world that surrounds us. The power of the wind displayed it’s unrelenting power in the arch carved out in the wall towering over me. The cliffs adjacent to the arch rock were also well on their way to becoming arches themselves as years of wind and sand erosion created a permanent circular indentation. We joked about coming back next year to see the progress of these soon-to-be arches, knowing that it would take hundreds of thousands, and even millions of years for the wind and sand to carve out another arch in this spot. Looking into the canyon far below, the windy dirt road put the river and canyon to scale as the biggest of RVs looked minuscule in comparison.
We enjoyed an ice cold beer in the shade of the arch, which were a bit shaken up from the trip up. We climbed to the top of the dome that overlooked the canyon, and sat there to enjoy the view for a short while. Anticipating the other girls to be arriving back from their extended hike, we cut our time short and made our way back to the car. We drove back to the trailhead where Emily’s car was parked, met up with the rest of our group, and made a game plan to restock our supplies in town before heading back to camp.
I had instant ramen for dinner. It was not tasty, but it was enough.
After a quick and messy dinner, we gathered around the fire and spent quality time in a constant stream of story-telling and laughter, lulling into the occasional reflective silence as we all turned our heads to the sky to admire the stars. It was late, and after a couple beers each, we retreated to our temporary sleeping quarters in anticipation for the adventure filled day that lie ahead.
Day 2
I was the second one awake and got to witness the same hot air balloon from the day before rise and fall, just as everyone else woke up. I failed to pack enough instant coffee for the entire trip so Zach and I had to began to brainstorm the best way to make enough coffee for the group. Since we didn’t have a good filtration method, we decided to go with the “cowboy coffee“ method, chewing through the occasional coffee grounds and learning to simply be thankful that we had coffee at all.
As an introvert, I require time alone to recharge after long spells of socialization. Waking up after a full day of social stimulation, I realized that exhaustion had overtaken my mind and even the smallest social interactions seemed to drain me. Desperate for some alone time, I made an effort to separate myself from the group during our hike in Canyonlands so I could find some solitude to recharge.
The Neck Springs Trail provided a unique look into the desert flora instead of the endless canyon overlooks provided throughout the rest of the park. The hike ended up being a 7 mile loop hike in the Island in the Sky section, and provided of plenty of time for me to socially rest in silence.
Scarcity rules the desert landscape and I become more aware of my most basic needs, forgetting about the luxuries I’ve left behind in the concrete metropolis I call home. It has a way of testing our limitations; our eyes can only see so far, our ears can only hear so much. Our bodies can only handle so much heat and dryness, and our limits quickly become so visible to us. The flowers that survive in these conditions have a kind of grit and perseverance that I feel has been lost in our generation. These plants, trained to withstand long periods of drought, ration the limited resources provided and spread their energy on the most important of things. Beyond survival, the Castilleja angustifolia or Indian Paintbrush flower (my favorite desert plant I must say), uses its very limited resources to pigment its bracts a bright red color to attract creatures for pollination. It comforts me to know that there is beauty in a simple existence, and reminds me that sometimes the most basic things in life are the most important.
After completing our 7-mile loop hike, we decided to make our way around the park to a few of the overlooks. We stopped in at Mesa Arch Viewpoint, Shafer Canyon Overlook, and eventually went up to Upheavel Dome. There was a short 1-mile hike to Upheavel Dome, so we decided to make the short trip to witness he unique geological feature.
Sunburnt and sore from two full days of hiking in the desert heat, we decided to make our way to Moab Brewery in town to enjoy the local beers and a heartier dinner to refuel.
With plenty of time left in the day, we returned to camp and decided to take it easy and watch the sun set from the comfort of our camp. As the temperature dropped, we prepared our last campfire and spent another evening telling stories, playing games and getting to know each other. With Erin’s stern reminder not to wake her by blasting music the next morning, we curled up in our sleeping bags and attempted to get a good nights’ rest.
Day 3
We all struggled with sleep this night as our tents flapped around in the powerful wind and fine sand crept its way into our tents, getting tangled in our hair, finding its way into our sleeping bags and coating all of our gear. I was planning on waking up early to photograph the desert sunrise, but because the wind had robbed me of my precious sleep, I decided to allow my body to rest instead. I slowly rolled out of bed several hours after sunrise to the scorching heat and uncomfortable feeling of sand in my teeth.
I turned on my stove and warmed up some water for a simple coffee and oatmeal breakfast. We took the morning to sort out our belongings and pack them into our cars. Once we got all of our bags into our respective cars, we made our way out to Dead Horse Point State Park which happened to be a 15 minute drive from where we were camped.
It was a small park with a one main viewpoint. We climbed among the rock to make our way to the canyon edge so we could get a closer look of the epic drop before us. This part of the canyon was much shallower than the cliffs we had seen in days past, so my eyes struggled to put the size in perspective.
Looking out over the canyon and seeing the different colored layers of rock and the ways these cliffs were carved out, I tried to imagine how the canyon would have looked from this spot in the millions of years past. I pictured a landscape of different vegetation and climates, and wondered what kind of image would be photographed from this very spot many hundreds of thousands of years in the future. A whole different species of flora and fauna would live off these lands, and who knows, humans may not even be around to witness the ever-changing landscape in thousands of years to come.
In order to get back to Denver at a reasonable time, leaving early on Monday was the sacrifice we had to make though there was plenty more that we wanted to do. A couple hours into our drive, we passed by the Colorado National Monument and made the last minute decision to swing in for a look. I’ve driven by the Colorado National Monument many times over the last year but was too distracted by the travel plans at hand to swing in and check out what was hiding in these public lands.
We began at the Fruita entrance, and after proudly displaying my Annual National Park Pass to the gate attendant, we began our drive up the steep canyon to the rim. The road to the ridge line provided a expansive view of the towns of Fruita and Grand Junction. These towns lie in the cradle of parallel mesas and pressed up against the western edge of the Rockies to the east and the open desert expanse to the west.
The park pamphlet and the plaques scattered around the National Monument depicted the life of a man that loved these lands and dedicated his life to protecting it. His name was John Otto, and though a quirky man who was not well understood by his peers, his passion for this region was never in question. He spent his days lobbying to get this land protected by the government, and with his own hands built the trails that today are enjoyed by thousands.
As we looked out at the last viewpoint and sat in awe of the landscape that lie before us, I thought about the simplicity of John Otto’s life. How unique and wonderful it must have been to love a place so much that he would sacrifice everything to protect and celebrate it. How comforting it must have been to find purpose in life among the trees. How simple life must have been for John, looking out over his beloved land each morning, knowing exactly what he was fight for.
These thoughts lingered for the remaining drive, and I wondered if I could ever love someone, something, or some place so much that I would devote my life to pursuing it with my whole heart.
