More Travels 4-Moon Over the Mesa

Moon Over the Mesa

Moab is a one hundred percent touristy town. Billboards advertise Most Wanted Jeep Adventures, Hot Air Balloon Rides, Red River Adventure Tours, Rim Tours, Redrock Speedway, Skydive Moab, Moab Zipline Above Adventure, Tag-a-Long Tram, as well as the more traditional whitewater river rafting, hiking and biking. And ultra prices fund the ultra challenges. At 8 a.m. we headed back to Arches National Park.

Rock fins of Fiery Furnace are
visible from the viewpoint.

"We'll go deep into the park interior today," said Andy, as he headed for Fiery Furnace. Not a cloud dotted the sky, so temperatures should warm into the 80's.
Fiery Furnace got its name from the afternoon glow on the rock fins that hide canyons. With a morning sun, the deep red sandstone stood out against a cloudless sky. A special permit is required to hike into the maze. We didn't know.
"Guess we won't be doing that," said Andy, after a short chat with the park ranger on duty at the pullout.

At 9 a.m. on Thursday, Broken Arch stood silent
and alone... far away from civilization.

The Broken Arch Trail led across the high dessert to a cluster of fins. From yesterday's movie we knew that the huge red sandstone towers formed when sand filtered between the cracks of a salt dome under an ancient ocean. Eventually, when the ocean dried up, the salt evaporated, leaving fins of solid rock. We had Broken Arch all to ourselves in the early morning, and the trail passed right under the stone megalith.

Not even on the map, Tapestry Arch
nestles far back on Broken Arch Trail.

Farther along the loop, we found a side trail: Tapestry Arch, 300 yards. Buried back in where few casual visitors would find it, we discovered Tapestry Arch, a graceful dome of sandstone hidden among rock pillars and fins.

Appropriately named,
Sand Dune Arch was
surrounded by dead sand.

We returned to the main trail, looped through the campgrounds to site 51, followed the trail back to the main path, and made our way through sage brush and prickly pear cactus to the Sand Dune Arch Trail. This walk led gently uphill between giant stone walls through ankle-deep dead sand. We plodded slowly upward with several other couples to an opening in the wall. There on the right was another huge sandstone arch, in no way visible from the outside. This one, a photographer's nightmare, was half in full sun and half in dark shadow.  I took one picture, but it wasn't very good. We actually contented ourselves with visual pictures and memories before trekking back out.

Piles of boulders under Skyline Arch
suggest the origin of this rock formation.

We could see Skyline Arch from the parking lot, but we followed the .3-mile trail uphill to the rock outcropping for a close-up experience.  Boulders nearby gave evidence of the origins of the arch.
Farther into the Park is Devil's Garden, a collection of arches that can be seen from foot trails. The main trail head followed the land up and down for nearly half a mile until it reached the split. We took the side trail to Pine Tree Arch first, climbing into the rock fins for a look under the massive stone. Back down the same half-mile side trail, we could see Tunnel Arch high above. "They should have called it Double Tunnel," I suggested, after spotting both openings of the tunnel.

Protected for safety of visitors,
Landscape Arch spans more than 300 feet.

Another half mile of trail led to Landscape Arch. "We sat under this one some 25 years ago with the kids," Andy reminded me.

Landscape Arch may survive a day or a thousand years.

"Not any more," I told him. The area was fenced off and visitors, respectful of the boundaries, stayed away. I guess they had read the sign like I did. In 1991, as a group of friends reclined under Landscape Arch, pebbles and dirt started to fall on them. Quickly, they moved away, and with rumbling like thunder, a slab of rock came down from overhead. When the dust cleared, they realized that tons of the Landscape Arch had fallen. Scientists believe that gravity was too much for the rain-laden sandstone since the season had been a wet one.  The Arches National Park authorities immediately cordoned off the area for safety purposes. Immutable as the stone seems to be, it doesn't last forever. At its narrowest point, Landscape Arch is only six feet across.  Precarious but graceful, it stands, with a time span that is short-lived and unpredictable.
I soon turned back from the steep climb along the main trail. "I'll meet you back at Landscape Arch," I called to Andy, as he continued up the sides of the fins to Navajo Arch and Partition Arch. I relaxed on a log under a Utah juniper and people-watched.
A half hour later, Andy reported back. "It's a good thing you didn't follow me," he said. "That descent was really steep. You would have been petrified. And Navajo Arch was nothing to write home about." "That's a good thing too," I told him, "since we have no pictures."

Partition Arch gives Andy
a climbing challenge.

"It's a beautiful arch, but it's right up against another wall, so without sky, it isn't as dramatic," he explained. "But Partition Arch. Now that one was cool. It reminded me a little of delicate Arch, because I could walk under it, and it had a precipitous drop on the other side."

From the La Sal Loop Road,
Castle Valley looks like a fairy land.

From Landscape Arch walkways, we could see Partition Arch high overhead. At least we had a picture to preserve the memory and prove our endurance and perseverance.
Leaving Arches National Park, we headed back through the road construction for a circular loop drive through the La Sal Mountains.
Castle Creek Winery on the banks of the Colorado River offered three complimentary tastings per person. We each tried three white wines that were all mild and refreshing sips.
The afternoon shadows cast artistic images across Castle Valley, as we meandered through the back country. Strange rock spires, brilliant red cliffs and steep juniper-covered plateau slopes created picturesque views in every direction.
"These are the mountains we saw in the distance from the Park," said Andy.
Temperatures cooled as we went up in elevation. Following the La Sal Loop Road, we wound our way through pinion pine and Utah juniper forests. From the highest point on the roadway around La Sal Mountain, the world was a fairyland in varying shades of green and yellow. Ground color filled in after a major fire on the back side. All the trees were dead. In another unburned area, aspen trees quivered and quaked in the wind, their tops already tinged yellow and gold. The car recorded an outdoor temperature of 65 degrees, down from 88 degrees in the valley. On the north side in the cove, aspen and pine trees reached stately heights.

Intricate Double Arch lets in light from all directions.

"The sign said 24 miles back to Moab," I told Andy.It's easy to understand why Southeastern Utah was the last major explored area in the U.S.  It wasn't touched until after World War II when mining companies looking for uranium built roads into the region.
After dinner we drove back to Arches National Park to check out the setting sun on the arches. Selecting a section we had previously avoided because of the crowds, we headed to The Windows. That part of the parking lot was still full of cars at sunset, but we found one spot by the trail to Double Arch.

As the sun sets on Double Arch,
light plays in lacey patterns.

What a lucky opportunity! With four arches of stone opening on one site and the sun streaming through, the place was magical. Piles of red boulders, that had fallen from the roof, gleamed as the sun glinted off the rock. It felt like a giant coliseum. And we had it almost to ourselves.

The moon peeks over the horizon in mid-September,
as the Arches landscape darkens.

Cars, motorcycles, and campers lined the road as we drove toward the main entrance of the Park. It was the night of a full August moon, and visitors with camera and tripods were prepared... everywhere along the road and in the pullouts. We joined them to photograph the moon rising over the mesa in the land of arches.