The Ford Explorer lurched forward and tumbled back even closer to the edge of the dirt road, a slick wet fusion of red clay and ice from the first snow of the season. My eyes fixed on the craggy precipice overlooking the Colorado River thousands of feet below, the menacing rim now only inches away from mud-caked tires. My nails dug deeper into the armrest but I didn't say a word. I didn't have to. Stark fear was blazoned across my ash face. And for the first time, I wished we had never bought the four-wheel drive SUV, imagining it, and us inside, plunging end over end and crashing against rocky walls as we fell to a watery death.
Home of Arches, and Canyonlands National Parks, Moab is a dichotomy. Beautiful and equally inhospitable, it invites and dissuades us. From the alpine climate of the La Sal Mountains teeming with flora and fauna, an impressive 12,000 feet above sea level where snow-capped peaks loom above the blistering floor of a red dessert, to the cool Colorado River snaking through parched canyons, it beckons us.
Isolation reigns supreme here.
Deserts don't have much appeal for some Americans, unless hot grains of sand are met by cool lapping waves at the edge of a beautiful body of water. But millions of Europeans who vacation in the deserts of Southern Utah, and in particular the Moab area say differently and we wanted to find out what brings them back year after year. So we packed a single suitcase, booked a room at the Virginian motel because it was in the middle of town and within our budget, and set our alarm clock for four a.m.
We arrived at ten- thirty the first night and drove down the main street to our motel, the Virginian where Hollywood types stayed when they were shooting movies and commercials some years back. But we weren't thinking about Hollywood now. Our minds were focused on only one thing after driving all day. Sleep.
The first day was spent touring Arches National Park, hiking a short mile for a picturesque view of Delicate Arch in the crisp morning air and watching a rock climber ascend the sheer face of an impressive monolith jutting above the flat desert floor. We drove the short distance back to town for lunch, deciding on a Mexican Restaurant that boasted they used "No cans" in their Mexi-can food...but half way through the meal we unanimously agreed they probably should have. I'll admit it was probably healthier, but I don't eat Mexican food for my health.
After pushing my fork around the plate picking at bland enchiladas, unsalted rice and black beans (de la olla) we paid our bill to a smiling waiter. Outside the air was crisp and we meandered through the streets of the burgeoning tourist town looking in myriad interesting shops and a finally stopped at a bookstore where we chatted with a sales clerk, the wife of a Ranger. Steve and I like to talk to locals wherever we travel. We like to get the flavor of the areas, the towns and the oft-times colorful residents we meet pumping gas, ordering a meal, or working the cash register in a gift shop. We commented to her that many of the motels looked new, and asked if she was glad that tourism was increasing. Expecting she was, we were more than a little curious when she answered us with a forced smile, and a "Not really."
Some of Moab's residents can't seem to decide if they welcome tourists and their dollars or not. Many are late sixties dropouts that settled in the area twenty plus years ago in an effort to disconnect from society and rediscover their quintessence. Their efforts at saving the pristine beauty of the desert for their eyes only, these relative newcomers proudly, if asked, contend they don't want the tourist dollar. On the other hand reality dictates. They rely on it. But I can understand their wanting to keep the area for themselves. Too many people disrespect the forests, beaches and deserts leaving their trash, graffiti, and desecration of unspoiled land behind, But most of us don't. We respect nature and just want to enjoy it.
Over the years many have come to visit, and in the end they leave behind lives in the city for the beauty and inshopitible enviornment of the red rocks.
Hollywood too has had a love affair with the red desert's cast of colorful characters for over 40 years now, and even their most imaginative writers would be hard-pressed to have come up with a more rugged version of the reality of Moab's first years. It's no wonder directors and producers have flocked to capture the perpetual divergence of the area's red desert backdrop.
In stark contrast to the peaceful Mormon towns established throughout San Juan County by their leader, Brigham Young, Moab became known as the toughest town in the west. It was the rendezvous for gunmen and rustlers alike and in 1908 John Riis, one of the first supervisors of the La Sal Forest Reserve wrote that old timers referred to it as "Robber's Roost", where "the flash of pistol fire split the darkness..." on a routine basis. The likes of Butch Cassidy and his Wild bunch and the Robber's Roost Gang were as much a part of the community and environment as the cattle companies they preyed on. Saloons abounded, and even though Kid Curry shot and killed the sheriff to avenge the death of another gang member, the locals painted his behavior cavalier. Cowboys will be cowboys after all.
We, of course eventually did get back down the mountain safely. And we were able to experience many other adventures that trip.
Late that afternoon we drove to Island in the Sky, a plateau overlooking a small canyon at the Green River overlook. We passed two buck- deer grazing languidly on the side of the road, and parked fifty feet ahead of them. They hardly took notice of us even though deer hunting season wasn't far off. We turned on the CD player to Bocelli's Sogna and sat back, ready to be entertained by nature's wonder. Once again Utah didn't disappoint us. As the cumulus clouds gathered in the western skies and the blazing orange sun dipped peacefully into the mountains a cavalcade of lightning shafts split the northern and southern skies to a thunderous roar and I knew I had to return to this formidable, spiritual land of unforgiving sun burning across the banks of the cool rushing water of the Colorado River.
Over the long weekend, there were more breathtaking sights we feasted on, unique hikes through other world landscapes and the augur of unearthing the remains of creatures that lived millions of years ago. Spiritual journeys beneath the setting sun to cleanse our souls and fill us with wonder and deference to a higher power. Edward Abbey was right. This red desert, angry and serene, sublime and deadly at the foot of majestic mountains with contrasting spires of stone, endless sky and water is one of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring places on earth. And that...is why we came.
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