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Heidi and I pulled into Goblin Valley in the San Rafael Swell around 11pm to clear skies, a ripe moon and complete silence. Traveling down dusty roads in the dark we snaked onto an arroyo and proceeded up to the base of an anonymous sandstone canyon guarded by the silhouette of a large Hoodoo.
Exiting the truck we wandered about in the moonlight and open spaces- now so much clearer without the artificial light. We marveled at the stillness, the emptiness of the land... the lack of human evidence in this world or any reference to it's existence was invigorating. Each breath of dry desert air brought the cleansing scent of sage. It had been 5 years since being here last. The time away had been far too long.
Setting up our tent we laughed at the thought of putting up the rain fly or even using stakes. In the course of a hour however we would be happy we did. A gentle wind picked up as we climbed into our bags. A new storm front moved the air above us on the sandstone cliffs into a howl. Down the canyon we heard the wind come.
The tent went from a gentle shutter to complete quake. I imagined as I lay drifting in uneasy slumber the winds were the goblins/Hoodoo's come to life. With long claws they scratched the tent fabric, teasingly next to my head. Often they grew angry with human arrogance, bringing the wind and dust to pancake the tent against the ground. I was amazed time and time again the tent would rebound and regain shape against the onslaught.
By morning the winds had not let up. The light of day however allowed us to see what the night had brought. Sand. Lots of it. In everything- tent, pillow, clothing, hair, teeth, eyes... ears. We had a new companion for the rest of the trip. Dust devils swirled around us as we scrambled to break camp- stinging eyes, nostrils. Mocking us they chased while gusts nearly knocked us over.
Thus was the start. I thought it overkill to bring my -20 degree bag. I welcomed every degree of it's warmth. It was a great way to give in to nature. The elements were indifferent to our presence. The goblins demanded us to submit. We weren't angry- we were humbled.
Before our exodus from San Rafael we ran two slot canyons in a 8 mile loop with our 2 year old german shepherd Osa. Winds pelted us along the way as we squeezed through slots barely 2 feet wide. Our pooch had a blast exploring the nooks and crannies with us.
In an attempt to get the reptile warmth we sought we had to pass some of my favorite desert locals due to their high elevation- Escalante and Hole in the Rock Road, Capital Reef, Bryce Canyon. We ran south seeking refuge from the wind and cold to Springdale and the huge sandstone cliffs of Zion, pausing only for short stays on the way in Bryce and Tory. Each of the spots easily offer a lifetime of exploration. So unique in their queer rock formations and colors- united in their silence.
In Zion we caught up with my wife Heidi's younger cousins Brody and Jarred. Both expert climbers they have called Zion their home for the past 10 years. They have been putting up new wall routes in the park as well as creating many new covert sport climbs. Brothers only a 1 1/2 years apart they have a bond few know. Sharing the genetics of a passion for the wild, each watches the other's back in adventure, making sure however to laugh at the others expense at any given opportunity. It was an honor to share earth day in their presence and remember that there is another world of values entirely than the one shown on television and the commercials that define a consumer culture.
The shots attached mostly come from a secret area known as The Kung Fu Theater. As yet unknown to the the Rangers and any tourists of the area. The brothers each have great ladies that match their prowess on the rock that joined us. Rachel runs the local outdoor shop and Lisa works at one of the local guiding companies. It felt great getting in some climbing, a sport I have left since moving away from Jackson Hole. I was happy to see that despite the lack of strength I still have the ability to silence my mind and move across rock with calm focus.
Our plans for canyoneering and wall climbing were shelved due to the high water level in some canyons, low temperatures in others and the continuing high winds. This fall I desire to run the Behunin- a technical canyon over rock and water with 8 rappels, over 8.5 miles long- finishing with a 165 foot free rappel.
The highlight for me on this trip was pausing in the dark to take a wiz while brushing my teeth in preparation of sleep. I was thinking of the mystical nature of the desert and thankful for the spirits to allow me to experience the place again after many years away. Especially since I had felt doubt recently concerning the human race and it's overcoming it's relentless approach to destruction of themselves and the planet.
Mid-thought I felt something move across my bare feet in the darkness. I jumped back, seeing a figure scurrying in the sand. Initially I thought I had just missed the sting of a scorpion. Searching for a headlamp I found that my scorpion was actually a frog. Here in the desert of all places, the most unlikely fellow gave me hope that the impossible is possible. That change can happen, we as a species can overcome the issues that face our demise.
Encouraging to read later that in Native American Indian symbolism the frog is a symbol of good luck- it is a mediator and sign of the communicator. It is the voice of the people and represents innocence.
Of the 31 countries I have experience in my life, the southern Utah desert is by far my favorite. The energy and experiences I have shared with others have been the most rewarding and insightful. Never what you will think it to be, a trip there always surprises and enlightens in unusual ways.
