Brian Smith
Brain Smith
Magnificent views of Canyon Lands National Park such as this one drew Smith's thoughts toward Ed Abbey's Desert Solitaire, a book which was written in this same region of the country.
Brian Smith
"After doing all the seeing that our over-stimulated optic nerves would let us, we returned to the campsite (no fee) and had some good delirious talk."
OLD GOLD AND BLACK REVIEWER
The following is a peek into Smith's diary from this past summer. Smith spent time in the desert mountains of Utah and Colorado and wrote reflections of his daily activities.
July 28 -- Day Four
Ben (one of my companions) and I picked up Big L (Lowry, my other companion) at the bus station. We left Silverthorne, Colo. en route to Utah. We stopped at a rest area west of Vail and found a dirt road that clambered up toward a ridge still spotted with snow patches.
The trail was good and wound through some low altitude (relatively speaking) meadows covered with yellow, blue and red flowers whose names I do not know.
We scrambled up over the ridge to find good views. Scrub grass and some scrappy shrubs adorned the ridge line. We relaxed in the grass among small piles of dung.
We ate at a small cafe built in 1947. Did Ed Abbey (the author of Desert Solitaire) dine there? It's pretty cool being in the same proximity as Ed -- this land is the running illustration to Desert. It seems like he's enjoying a sort of "Death of an Unpopular Poet" sort of fame. In the United States Forestry Service and the Bureau of Land Management office, they were showing a biographical video about him and had lots of copies of Desert.
Maybe I'm wrong, but Abbey harshly criticized these government agencies for their management of wilderness and national parks. It seems sort of ironic that since he has passed on they have embraced his literary views.
We are camping on BLM land, right beside the Colorado River. Even thought it's 9 p.m. and quite dark, light lingers on among the high canyon walls, illuminating the red rock and sandstone. However, the privy was hot as fire. Beautiful land, even though the ants are carnivorous little devils.
July 29 -- Day Five
Did Arches National Park. Lots of rock. Real pretty. Lots of heat. The place was extremely crowded. Paid $4 to drive around Arches behind an R.V.
Got to one trail head and promptly left the trail in order to conduct a proper exploration.
Lowry and Ben scramble up a rock but discover that the difficult first pitch becomes too narrow and steep to continue. So they come back down. I help Lowry down and then he and I help Ben. Unfortunately the sandstone ledge that Ben has been holding on to breaks. Fortunately he slides a short ways and lands on Lowry's shoulders.
Damage report: Lowry's head, my left knee, Ben's abdomen and one sandstone ledge.
We find a very decent primitive trail -- real sand and cacti with no gravel. It winds up through Fin Canyon and gives great views of Double-O Arch and Landscape Arch. There are very few people. This part of the day is becoming way hot and drinking hot, stale water doesn't really help.
After a full day of desert hiking we come back to the same campground where I promptly eat and then throw up a can of fruit cocktail. Heat exhaustion? Dehydration? We did go swimming in the river. We floated out some small rapids in the cool river. It's beautiful out here but those damn carnivorous ants are trying my patience. I wonder how they would like white gas.
July 30 -- Day Six
On the road to Canyonlands National Park. Today was a low stress, day. We did some low mileage loops and vista trails. Saw some cliff dwellings. Amazing how hardy the Indians (Anasazi, I think) had to be to survive these summers and winters. Us "modern" folks have a hard time without air conditioning.
Anyway, saw Upheaval Dome -- very strange and alien-looking and it didn't really fit in with the surroundings. You could think of it as geological white trash. Went to Grand View Point at Island-in-the-Sky District. Could not help but think of Abbey's account of it in Desert. "Dead Man at Grand View Point" was the chapter. It seems an old man wandered off around the edge and died under a juniper with his camera. Too much sun, not enough water. That is reality out here.
Grand View Point is a little too overwhelming to really comprehend. Grand vistas of canyons and white-rimmed spires dotted with pinion pine. I didn't take a picture because I knew it would not do the landscape justice. Some things are just better remembered.
It is pretty hot and all three of us are enduring our own little battles with lethargy. After doing all the seeing that our over-stimulated optic nerves would let us, we returned to the campsite (no fee) and had some good delirious talk of steaks and baked potatoes, of lemonade and sweet tea and sweet southern women, of mountains and cool running water.
Lowry, the desert rat of the three of us, is doing a good job of repressing his urge to explore every wall and canyon. He almost hiked down to the Green River (12 mi., 110 degrees) but at that time it was 3 p.m. Had we put our butts in gear a little earlier I think he just might have gone.
Right now they are on the top of a rock at the edge of the campground. I did not go because of my climbing skills, or lack thereof. Instead, I sit and write this. This is really pretty country, but as Ben and I theorized in the mid-day heat, it would probably be a lot better in March. Tomorrow: Needles District.
July 31 -- Day Seven
Today has been a very good day. Drove from Island to Needles. Stopped and took a $4 shower in Moab. However, it was very much worth it. Compared to Kentucky, these showers were the epitome of luxury. From Moab, we drove about an hour to Needles. This place is out in the boonies, which explains why we all seem to be in a better state of mental health than at Arches.
After the morning chores of driving and personal hygiene, we finally got to do some exploring. I did a 7.8 mile loop through Squaw Canyon and Big Spring Canyon. Lowry and Ben did a longer option -- another six miles compared with the 2.8 I had left on Squaw. I did the last leg by myself and wound through some surprisingly grassy washes at the bottom of the canyon. There were lots of juniper and several ponderosa pine.
In some spots the red cliffs loomed up before me and I tried my hardest to comprehend the geological and physical enormity of the structures. It's tough to fathom just what the desert means. I won't try it tonight. I'll save it for one of those sleepless nights when I should be studying chemistry.
As I wait for the boys to return I can sit here on the National Park Service picnic table under a shady pine, sipping lemonade and looking out at the spires and plateaus that characterize this park.
Not too shabby. The lemonade we're making has some lip-swallowing kick. Since they come in packets for 2 quarts and all of our containers are 1 quart, you have to guesstimate the amount of powder for 1 quart. It's either weaker than your sister's hand shake or strong enough to turn goat urine into gasoline.
This is our last day in the desert and while I'll miss having my feet blistered through my boots from the weatherworn, sun-blistered sandstone, I won't miss sweating profusely in my nylon refuge each night while ants prepare an invasion to scavenge the last bit of granola off my dirty shorts.
The desert has a unique beauty that is apparent in this seemingly desolate and barren surface.This beauty is simplicity and power and infinity.
Scrub trees grow without water. Colors pervade the sky with no bounds. Red-rimmed canyons, white-topped spires, light brown grass, deep green pinion pine and the dark blue-gray of the advancing thunder heads. And here I sit, in the midst of nature's immortality. These formations have existed a long time and will probably outlive us by several billion years. We are merely visitors and this land belongs to no one.
Since the clouds have been out, the temperature has been thoroughly enjoyable. I didn't face the prospect of becoming plasma today. I realize I'm rambling, but tomorrow's Mesa Verde and then the mountains of Colorado, with cool streams and chilly nights. But now I'm going to have dinner.