Taking Delight

It is funny how simple things are valued more the more closely we observe them. I had planned on enjoying the grand vistas in Capitol Reef this past weekend, but I hadn't planned on all the tiny delights. The campgrounds in Capitol Reef were already full by the time I got there around 3pm, so I ended up staying at the Sunglow Campgrounds just outside of Bicknell. It was a surprisingly lovely spot, much more private, with campgrounds farther apart and surrounding by vegetation.

With hours to kill, but not enough daylight left to scout out a hiking trail, I decided to go for a run from the campground through the town of Bicknell and back. For almost an hour I struggled to keep a decent pace. I found myself wondering if maybe the altitude was just that much different that I couldn't breath. I got back to camp, winded but still full of energy and still with time to kill, so I decided to bike into Loa and visit the only grocery store for miles.

I quickly discovered why the run was so miserable: this place is hilly! Stretches I had thought were flat I had to shift way down just the peddle over. Feeling a bit better about the state of my physical shape, I coasted into Loa. The sun was starting to go down and I was worried about getting into camp before dark, so I bolted through the store for the few necessities I needed.

When I got outside, it was darker and COLDER. I was sure I was in for a hellacious ride back in my shorts and sandals and lack of night-time illumination. But the ride was more downhill this way. And the sun setting over the miles of open fields with livestock grazing was soul-satisfyingly beautiful. I found myself thinking: "I could live here. I could live in this place forever."

It's almost like there are two sides of me. There is the side that loves to dress-up and head out into the big city to view museum displays and grand operas. The side of me that longs to nibble at gourmet delicacies, to spend a hundred bucks for that one perfect pair of shoes, to stroll along sparkling paths of night-time lighting with the smell of the city wafting past on the stuffy, warm air. It's the side of me that loves gadgets and gizmos and all the flashing novelty of the latest technological advances.

But there is that other side. The side that longs to shrug off the burden of posessions and roofs and walls and just be. Just me, the wind whisking the sweat away from my skin, inhalations and exhalations as I push my body forward up the hill or over the boulder. Water, just enough digestables to keep me moving who cares what they may be as long as they go down fast and stay put. And the beauty. The astounding, humbling, all-around me beauty of the natural world. The sun catching the tall grasses. The infinite gradations of green in a single tree. The graceful swirl of wispy clouds in a blue, blue sky.

After a cold evening in Sunglow and a shivery morning, I made the bike trip into Loa one more time to get a few things I discovered I had forgotten. After a restless night, I was easily tired, but slowed the pace and enjoyed the scenery. Then I packed up camp and drove back to Capitol Reef to catch one of the few open camping grounds left. I love National Parks. People of every country are there. Passing a group on a trail I catch fascinating snippets of conversations I can't understand. But I love the sounds. The combinations of sylables that convey meaning-- I love the foreign sounds and unexpected rhythms of other languages.

I had planned on biking through the park and then the next four miles to Old Notom Road where a book informed me I could find some neat rockhounding sites, especially a mile of hills covered in fossilized seashells known as Devil's Toenails. But I hadn't properly figured the length of the park. With colorful sandstone structures still looming up on either side of me, I was beginning to tire. When riding all in one direction, I get more nervous about going too far and not being strong enough to get back. So I turned back.

By the time I made it back to camp, I was too tired even to hike. Instead I drove to the nearby town of Torrey and caved to the temptation to visit a burger joint. I hadn't had a burger in years. And how could I resist the delight of fried zucchini? Paying out a hunk of cash for junk hurt a bit, and messily devourin the burger wasn't as satisfying an experience as I had hoped, but the zucchini proved even more fabulous than I could have imagined. I even considered ordering a second helping. Or maybe fried mushrooms this time? I quickly distanced myself from the spot to kill the voice of temptation.

I ended up back at camp with some daylight left, feeling like I had already wasted a huge chunk of my weekend. So I pulled out all the guide books and tried to find a way to still fit rockhounding into my plans. As darkness descended around me, I knew how I would spend the next day.

I woke tired the next morning. I'm just too heavy a gal to comfortably sleep with little to no padding underneath me. But it wasn't quite so cold this morning so I had the courage to brave the morning before the sun was fully up. I was ready for the day before most of the other campers were even stirring. I packed up my car and headed out to Old Notom Road. Scouting around grey hills in a wilderness of grey dirt swelling up around me was a fantastic way to spend a morning. Finding the Devil's Toenails and crunching along across the hills they were strewn over was like walking on the seabed as Moses parted the waves. I could almost feel the mountainous walls of waves just waiting to pound down into their natural course. And water-tumbled rocks dotted the landscape, some were pieces of agate with otherworldly depth of colors hidden below the surface, and all resting on solid pieces of sand like a strange offering, or like colorful, odd-shaped golfballs balanced on a tee. It was like being in another world. Something primative or alien or magical.

I was almost sad to leave the rockhounding and head off for my day of hiking. After a disappointing trek through Cottonwood Wash, I headed back to camp for more central trails. First, however, I had to go in search of cell coverage to let my sister know I was still alive. That meant a drive into Torrey again with the tempting aroma of greasy foods and another purchase of junk food. Sweet potato fries and fried mushrooms. The former were unbelievably good, the latter tasteless shriveled slugs in a crunchy coating three sizes too big. And I had to get away before those fried zucchinis came back fully to memory.

Cohab Canyon trail was fantastic. And the hike from there to Hickman Bridge was enjoyable. With the sun already beginning its downward journey, I was anxious to get back to my car so I could make it to Sunset Point in time to see the sunset. I made the rather unfortunate decision to hike back along the highway instead of backtracking over the Cohab Canyon trail. I was tired and afraid the climbing required would be too slow-going. Instead, I walked along a desolate highway for what turned out to be three miles. It was beautiful watching the light change the colors in the cliffs on either side, watching the deer come out to feed, listening to the Fremont River gurgling in the ditch beside me.

The sun was setting just as I turned the corner for the last mile into the campground. I had missed sunset at Sunset Point. I was exhausted. I was thristy. I was famished. As I always find myself doing when I have gone as far as my body wants to with still a mile to go, I began urgin myself forward in the language of urging: German, of course. "Du kannst es tun!" "Fast da. Fast da." "Weiter immer weiter!" "Good little billy goat!" Until finally, I crawled into camp under cover of darkness. I collapsed on teh bench, guzzled three liters of water, ate as much as I could hold and then made teh slow, agonizing preparations for bed.

The next morning was Sunday and I had toyed with the idea of doing some mountain biking after church. But I ended up ready to gor with still hours to spare, so I decided to spend the morning doing all the easy, most popular trails at the entrance of the park. So dressed in skirt and dress shoes, I hiked to Panorama Point, Goosenecks, and Sunset Point. All beautiful, all full of people already even though the sun had barely come out of hiding. I finished just in time to get to church.

After the first two meetings, I suddenly found myself exhausted, thirsty, and so hungry. Stuck in a meeting, listening to old guys argue over not-so-vital tangents of gospel inquiry, while feeling my vital energy slip away is perfect conditions for a panic attack. Needless to say, I gritted my teeth and bore it all the way to the end of Sunday School and then made a quick exit before Relief Society started. Feeling guilty for having skipped out on a church meeting, and still feeling tired and shaky even after eating (I think my caloric needs had been woefully underestimated for the amount of activity I was involved in...) I decided to forgo the bike ride and instead, sniff sniff, head for home.

I kept having this nagging feeling that I had left something behind as I drove away. I had checked and double-checked, but still couldn't shake the feeling. It must have been just the trauma of leaving behind this world of carefree beauty with the prospect of reality waiting as soon as I hit the outskirts of Richfield. The towns were all dead, shops all closed up. I figure most of the locals were still sitting through Relief Society and priesthood meetings. The only signs of life I saw were two Wayne County cops standing on the side of the road next to their vehicles, dealing with some unobvious law enfrigement. So I waved at the cute cop and continued on out of town.

Time to Get Back to It

Here I am at work, pondering how to sum up my current mood in one tiny facebook blurb when suddenly it dawned on me that I have a blog site just waiting for some expounding of my current mood!

For many months now, I have been pondering how one survives living in a remote spot with only few friends, and almost no excess spending money. I have finally stumbled upon the answer. One makes big plans for little things. So I have made big plans. This weekend is payday and I am going to be getting the one paycheck that isn't immediately consumed for bills. So with my only mostly-consumed paycheck, a favorable weather forecast, and an extra-long weekend, I have planned a trip to Capitol Reef National Park. It's only an hour drive away and offers a plentitude of camping spots for inexpensive sleeping.

It's funny how this one act of decisive action has altered my mood entirely. In fact, I am so excited about this trip, that I keep catching myself doing a little "booya" dance at my desk. So far this unconscious joyousness has not been observed by a coworker, but its not like anyone would be shocked to behold such strange behavior from the likes of me!

So stay tuned! I am going to take some good notes and pics and report on my weekend trip. Then it will be time to plan my next advetnure...