Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Showdown at Big Sky


10 October, 2012
Moab, Utah


What is Denver, but Tulsa with a view? Bill Stewart


Things got a little weird in Denver, so we split for Utah.  

Heading 70 West out into the Rockies, we made good time, despite facing headwinds again.  At one point it seemed the truck wouldn’t even roll downhill.  I’m beginning to adhere to the original mantra of taking the time to enjoy the journey.  Perhaps it’s a realization after the fact, as we bolted to Denver from Wichita yesterday direct, nearly 600 miles in less than 9 hours.  If you rush, you miss the experience, and probably wind up hurrying up and waiting, and in our case, freezing as well.

After three hours of searing between the ridges and through the tunnels, running off the road trying to absorb the incredible scenery, we broke for lunch in Parachute, Colorado, site of a famous train robbery.  We had a delightful Salvadoran meal, and met an extremely nice Hispanic lady, Theresa.

 Entering Utah was a complete rush, and I tried to get Kaya to drive so as to captivate more directly into the landscape.

I have never seen the slickrock country in person, or the bluffs jutting, seemingly randomly, out of the desert floor.  As we came into Yellowcat, Utah, I began pulling over every five minutes to make photographs, trying the camera on the ipad as well as the mini-nikon.  The rest areas of Utah are oriented around spectacular views, bluffs in the foreground, juxtaposed against tall eroding sandstone slopes in tones ranging from buffs and beiges to the most vibrant of rust and vermillion.  Many of the outcroppings are decidedly Egyptian, affecting pharaohs and the sphinx.

Missing the exit 182, after looking out for it for 90 miles, I backed down the onramp, as an alternative to the half-hour it would take to get to the next exit and turn around.  It’s not like there was anyone else there.  It is a great unheralded pleasure to have a mile between one’s vehicle and the nearest one, especially in a magnificent, surreal landscape.  Some might say moonscape.

Repositioned, once again towards mountain-biking Mecca, Moab, we came south in the fading light, which just increased the contrast on the bluffs and the timeless peaks beyond. After passing Arches and Canyonland National Parks, I was surprised by the popularity of this outpost, once praised for its very remoteness by Edward Abbey, who would be appalled at how hopping and built-out it is. It’s also seriously funky and down-to earth, with climbers, paddlers, parachute pilots and the communal brace of well-seasoned mountain bikers, many with their personal braces and bandages, courtesy of the slickrock. There is a plein-air painting festival this weekend.

I think we may stick around for a couple of days, as it’s Summer here still, and terrifyingly beautiful.






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