“Canyonlands is the most weird, wonderful, magical place on Earth. There is nothing else like it anywhere.”---Edward Abbey
“Amen to that.”---Siobhan & Bill
The Road To Moab
New Mexico, as nobody knows, is the fifth largest state in land area in the U. S., behind only Alaska, Texas, California and the one you’re not thinking of, Montana. Siobhan and Bill traversed only the northern half and it seemed colossal. The route from Taos through Durango, Colorado and up to Moab, Utah begins as U. S. 64 in northernmost New Mexico, crossing voluptuous mountain land and diving into green valleys uninterrupted by human interference for the entire fifty miles between Tres Piedras and Tierra Amarilla. Not so much as a dot in the road, nary a car to meet along the way. If people were someday erased from the Earth, this would be the last place to notice. It occurred to us that this would also be the perfect place to have that paid-up AAA membership in force if only a driver could place a call from Nowheresville. Fortunately, none of our wheels fell off and we ambled on to tiny-town civilization at Tierra Amarilla (population 866), then Los Ojos (125) and Chama (a whopping 1,018). When we crossed the border to lively Pagosa Springs, Colorado with double the population of Chama, we felt like we’d reached Manhattan.
Pagosa Springs is the bees’ knees. Surrounded by the rugged San Juan Mountains and vast areas of national forest, the town appears much larger than its population suggests, with visitors pouring in to soak in the hot springs, fish for trout in the San Juan River and muck about the ruins of ancient Puebloan dwellings at nearby Chimney Rock National Monument. There are shops galore, abundant hotels and eateries and even Pagosa’s own personal cataract at Treasure Falls. We gave it a thought but serious travelers keep to their schedules and ours included lunch at nearby Durango.
Colorful Durango, home of almost 20,000 souls, is the Big City in these parts, famous for its historic narrow gauge railroad that connects the city with Silverton. The downtown is attractive, with a constant gaggle of tourists passing through. Siobhan opted for a smoothie and pastry for lunch, abysmally low on the national healthy nutrition charts, and we visited a few shops before gassing up and moving on. The entire trip non-stop would be a 6 1/2 hour exercise and we sought to be in Moab by 4 p.m. when they finally let you into your hotel room. Some of us are ancient enough to remember the good old days when they let you in at noon, but every few years they move the goalposts back another ten yards. Pretty soon, your reservation for Wednesday won’t take effect until Thursday morning. We attribute it to very slow Peruvian maids but it could be errant guests who just won’t leave.
The Gonzo Inn
Our housing for the next four days would be a cheery, well-located hacienda called The Gonzo Inn. We’re not sure why but we expect Hunter S. Thompson had something to do with it. Months ago when we were searching for a place, the forums were almost unanimous in recommending Gonzo. It was akin to eerie. The hotel lived up to the high expectations, however, with voluminous suites, an ample free breakfast and helpful staff, not to mention being a mere half-block from downtown. Moreover, the hotel worked hand-in-glove with the Moab Wash & Fold Laundry, which picked up ten pounds of well-used garments, washed and folded them (even rolling up the mated socks, just like mom) and returned them to the desk, which charged them to the room, all for a laughable $14. As an added bonus, The Gonzo Inn was a three-minute walk from the best restaurant in town, the Desert Bistro, a small but wonderful mom-and-pop operation which requires---would you believe it?---good behavior from their clientele. If anybody gets too noisy, the proprietress pushes a handy button and an ejector seat hurtles the offender into the parking lot, never to return. Worse even, a photograph of the criminal is placed in a Wall of Shame just outside the building and loyal customers are encouraged to shun him/her for 60 days. You can laugh but it seems to be working. Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi has nothing on these guys.
Canyonlands
If you’re wondering how we ended up out here, blame it on Sharon Sawalis, Siobhan’s 85-year-old house pharmacist at Pathogenes, Inc. Mrs. Sawalis has been everywhere---and we mean everywhere---which includes railroading the length and breadth of China and Russia, among other little dalliances. The first time Bill and Sharon met and she spoke of going on vacation, Bill thought that might mean a nifty drive up to North Carolina to see the great-granchildren. Turns out Sharon was going to the North Pole on an icebreaker. Never underrate a sprightly granny-lady with a gleam in her eye.
Anyway, Bill sought to take advantage of the lady’s vast experience. Since she’d been literally everywhere, what did she like best in the USA? “That’s easy,” she said. “Canyonlands National Park.” Why? “It’s enormous, the vistas are endless and there’s a different picture around every turn. You can see an awful lot without arduous hiking. The colors are magnificent.” That’s all well and good, said Siobhan, but do they have any rock shops? “A huge, inexpensive one right at the edge of town,” replied Sharon Sawalis. If there had been any doubt before, that took care of it. “Make sure you schedule an extra day there,” insisted the rock-hunter. Bill was hoping Moab might have minor-league baseball.
On A Clear Day, You Can See Forever. Okay….Pretty Far.
There are two primary entrances into Canyonlands. The first is the Needles Visitor Center northwest of Monticello, which we passed on the trip north. The second is the Island In The Sky V.C. about a thirty-five minute drive west of Moab. The road from each visitor center goes well into the park but the two paths never meet and there is a vast area between them. If you have a jaunty vehicle with an unbreakable axle or a good horse, you might gain access to the remote areas of the park, but you’d better know what you’re doing. The Clanton gang could hang out here for decades and Wyatt Earp would never find them. Think Alaska with better weather and no salmon. Earl’s Towing Service is not coming to the rescue.
The Original Plan was to drive Canyonlands the first day, learn the ropes and hike the second day. Alors, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Many of the overlooks and destination areas were within a half-mile, easy walking distance. We decided to save a couple of the more trying hikes til next day and meander over to the easier spots that morning. At the first of these, the spectacular Mesa Arch, we had plenty of company, including John Whitehouse from Manchester, England, a 66-year-old rock-climber whose childlike fascination with the surroundings and boundless energy could allow him to pass for a chap much younger. He was thrilled to meet someone who had been atop Half Dome (me) and had a hundred questions, traveling the U. S. park system as he was. John turned out to be the anti-Siobhan—he would walk out to the very edge of the abyss, toes hanging over the edge, to take his pictures, always with a big smile on his face, never considering the possibility that a sudden gust of wind might plunge an unsuspecting photographer down into the abyss. We kept meeting John at various junctures down the line, eventually wondering if he might actually be the third reincarnation of Larry, the Phantom of Ouzel Falls, whom we had met at Rocky Mountain National Park on a previous excursion. Ghosts weigh almost nothing and have little fear of falling, unlike Siobhan, who is absolutely certain that trolls who reside in the canyon bottoms are employing magnetic devices which will vacuum her right off the ledge and into their cookpots. It hasn’t happened yet but who’s to say that troll technology isn’t improving by the day?
Moonlight On The Colorado. With Barbecue.
Sparkling little gem of eastern Utah that it might be, there is not a whole lot to do in Moab when the sun goes down. There is the triplex cinema, of course, and a watering hole for the locals incorrectly named World Famous Woody’s Tavern, and if you show up at just the right time you might catch a rare performance of the Moab Community Dance Band, rocking it up at a folk dancing fiesta at the Arts and Recreation Center. Other than that, you’re on your own. Or you would be if it wasn’t for Captain Lee and his band of hardy seadogs down at Canyonlands By Night & Day.
For more than 50 years, this family operation has been hauling boatloads of excited tourists down the Colorado River on its two-hour after-dark extravaganza, current price a paltry $69 a passenger and that includes dinner. Don’t roll your eyes, the meal is not served aboard ship but rather in a hotel conference room adjacent to CBND headquarters, which allows it to be hot and ample, unlike typical dinner cruise fare which is often best fed to the fishes. After supper, about 80 customers hop aboard to ride downriver and marvel at the canyon walls while the knowledgeable Captain Lee regales them with geological tales and whimsically points out projections on the rocks which resemble Greta Garbo’s profile or Jimmy Durante’s nose. “Hey, Dad---who the hell is Jimmy Durante, anyway?”
At the halfway point, the Captain retires to the rear of the boat and flips on a recording which offers a human history of the area, complete with music. Here we learn that the heroic Mormons dispatched menacing savages and settled the land, all glory to God. Lucky for them there was no rebuttal availability for Bill And Siobhan to take advantage of. We considered the possibility of booing but had some concerns about being tossed overboard by the hardy seadogs. While the tale was being told, pickup trucks on shore drove around illuminating the various canyon walls with enormous beacons. Then, just to break things up, they played the song Moonlight On The Colorado for romantic old fools like us. Hey, how often do you get to hear Moonlight On The Colorado while you’re actually under moonlight on the Colorado? Not very.
After two hours (about twenty minutes too long), we pull over to the dock, say our goodbyes to our shipmates and depart past the well-paced tip jars to the tune of Roy Rogers singing “Happy Trails To You,” a clever finale considering where we are. Captain Lee is standing there, smiling benevolently as his subjects pass. Someone has the effrontery to suggest an alternate boat ride where the Indians massacre the Mormons. Captain Lee nods, but his smile is slowly withering.
The Upheaval Dome
The northern section of Canyonlands National Park is entered via the Island in the Sky, views from which include the Green and Colorado rivers and the mountains surrounding them. On a good day, the horizon is almost 100 miles in the distance. Island in the Sky is a broad mesa between the Green River and the Colorado and serves as Canyonlands’ observation tower. From it, you see hazy far-off vistas hard to comprehend, but also close ones like the White Rim, a nearly continuous sandstone bench 1,200 feet below the Island. Another 1,000 feet beneath the White Rim are the rivers, shadowed by sheer canyon cliffs. Beyond them are sections of the park called The Maze and The Needles.
Included in the northern part of Canyonlands is a fascinating area called the Upheaval Dome (above, fifth photo from the top). We were excited to hear about this, thinking Mad Max might be involved, but no luck there. The Dome is a geological formation three miles across and roughly circular in shape. Although the land around it is flat, the layers around it that make up the Upheaval Dome are layered in a raised circle and surrounded by a ring-like depression. The effect is that of a crater inside a series of concentric rings, similar to a crop circle of solid stone. It doesn’t look like anything else on Earth.
There are two theories as regards this phenomenon. The first, of course, is that an odd meteorite impacted the area. The second is that we are viewing the remnants of an ancient salt dome. However, meteorite advocates cannot explain the lack of debris usually found at the site of a meteorite strike, and salt domes are usually much shallower in terms of erosion. The meteorite theory is currently in the lead with advocate scientists arguing that the strike created only a partly collapsed crater. Over time, the crater supposedly crumbled and underground rocks rose to fill in the gaps, exposing the impact crater’s deep core. Take your pick we’re going hiking.
The trail itself is two-tiered. You can reach the first overlook fairly easily and without much elevation. We opted for a better view at the higher one, just under a two-hour trip we would rate only moderately difficult. The trail is fairly clear, with an occasional cairn for guidance. The traffic on a weekday mid-morning hike was substantial but not bothersome. We followed this up with a later hike along the White Rim Trail, a fairly level walk with modest climbing and many outstanding large rock formations. The White Rim is famous for it’s very own trail ghost, The Naked Hiker, an apparition usually seen casting about gigantic boulders. We got a quick photo, but sometimes when we look at it parts of his anatomy suddenly disappear.
A Comment: the photo above will someday be used as a companion piece along with Bill’s obituary, symbolizing a 77-year-old mind and body fighting to fend off the unfendable. This only applies, of course, if Bill eventually dies.
That’s all, folks….
Whew!
