Leaving Page on Highway 98 heading east, we passed a large Navajo-owned coal fired power station, and a coal mine further along the road. After that it was miles of undulating desert with scrubby sagebrush and, from time to time, some cattle, sheep, and horses. In most rural areas in the States, land beside highways has well-maintained wire fences running parallel with the road but there are some places, as on parts of the Navajo reservation, where cattle are free to roam on the road. Over much of the reservation, even where there is roadside fencing there are no other internal fences. Occasional cattle-grids or gates mark the entrances to dirt roads which usually lead to scattered homes, all bungalows and mostly mobile homes or of similar basic construction. As in Navajo towns, the rural homes are usually surrounded by a collection of vehicles (mostly pick-up trucks), often in various stages of disrepair or dismantling. The dusty yards often have various outbuildings, but virtually never gardens or any sign of cultivation. Many small roadside stalls, most with flags saying “open”, advertise Navajo jewellery and pottery, though only a few were open as we passed. After turning onto route 160 then onto 163, heading north-east into Utah, we were not far from the point where the state-lines of Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico intersect, hence the term 'the Four Corner States’. Our journey from the canyons in New Mexico through the Painted Desert to the Grand Canyon and now into Utah, has been on the Colorado Plateau, a vast area which was pushed up by geological forces millions of years ago, then eroded by rivers and glaciers, causing the large number of fantastical geological features which characterise the area. Now along this road, suddenly the soil became bright orange, and we saw weirdly-shaped tall chimneys and huge blocks (buttes) of red rock dotted across the plain.
Then it all changed again as we went over a ridge and the soil became paler and the cliffs buff-coloured. Just when we had given hope of finding civilisation and somewhere to eat we came into Bluff, a relatively attractive small, old trading and mining town, which has largely avoided the garish tourist development which mars so many rural townships. It included a pleasant coffeehouse/library/ gallery, run by a 30-something electrical engineer (who also happens to be the town’s mayor) and his wife, who is an archeologist. While we were eating excellent avocado and nut sandwiches, accompanied by mandarin oranges, various obviously well-educated locals dropped in for a chat and a coffee.
After passing through an area with more agriculture and cattle grazing, we reached Moab, a town which, like so many others, is comprised of shops, motels and small eateries strung along a single main road for many miles. In Moab, though, many of the shops are outdoor adventure equipment suppliers and outfitters, there are hostels and small motels in addition to the usual chains, and there are several individual small cafes and coffee shops. It also has its own microbrewery in a State which, until recently, was largely dry and which still closely controls the sale of alcohol. It is a town which caters for (and appears to be largely populated by) well-educated, sporty young people, retired arty folk and aging hippies. We booked into an unusual, cheap private motel, which was obviously geared towards people interested in outdoor sports, then went off for a meal in an indifferent local family-run grill.
Thursday 3rd December
A short distance north of Moab is the Arches National Park, famous for its weird spires, pinnacles, fins and, yes, arches. The fins are tall, thin, perpendicular slices of rock, formed by fissures being opened up by water and repeated freezing. The arches are thought to have been formed by the centres of some fins being eroded away, due to weaknesses in the rock.
Fins and pinnacles
After stopping briefly in the Visitors Centre for a map, we first drove to Wolfe Ranch, noting The Three Gossips on the way.
At Wolfe Ranch we looked at some excellent petroglyphs, before taking the short path (3 miles round trip) to Delicate Arch, which is the unofficial iconic symbol of Utah. The walk is moderately strenuous, rising steeply over exposed rock faces, between towering pinnacles. The temperature was about -6 deg C. and the wind was blowing at about 40-50 knots, so it was bitterly cold despite the sunny day. We were glad of our thermal underwear!
The arch sits in a sloping smooth rock bowl and, at about 90 feet high, it is much bigger than it looks from the initial vantage point on the trail, approximately 200 feet away. However, as we were already having some difficulty staying upright in the wind gusts, we decided not go out along the curved rim of the bowl for the traditional photos of each of us standing underneath the arch. Nevertheless, it was a stunning sight.
Driving further into park, we set off for the equally famous Landscape Arch, which has a span of 300 feet, but a minimum thickness of only 6 feet since a large slab, estimated to weigh about 300 tons, fell off the underside of the arch ten years ago. It is awe-inspiring, but also a bit scary, as there are cracks visible along the curve of the arch.
The area underneath and close to the arch is now fenced off as it obviously is not going to remain an arch for long. We also passed the area where the so-called Wall Arch collapsed last year and where large chunks of rock continue to fall. Clearly, this is a park in progress.
We then set off on a 'primitive' trail, i.e. one marked only by stone cairns, to the Double-O arch. This involved walking in narrow canyons between tall fins and teetering along the top ridges of fins (sometimes only 3-4 feet wide with 50-80 feet drops on both sides).
Double-O was a large oval window above a smaller window.
We had a quick look at a couple of other, smaller arches before heading back to the car.
As we walked back in the late afternoon, Carolyn saw a desert big-horned sheep, for which this park is also known, though it didn't have any horns! As we drove out in the dusk we caught sight of Queen Nefertiti addressing one of her eunuchs, on the skyline.
For dinner, we went to the Moab Microbrewery restaurant, where Philip dutifully sampled a couple of the six beers brewed there. There was a good light ale and a porter which was well-flavoured - definitely a big improvement on the awful standard beers in the US, most of which are much the same as the ubiquitous cheaper “lagers” in the UK. Fortunately, the restaurant (which is in the same building as the brewery), was only about 200 yards from our motel, so after briefly listening to an indifferent and rather boring singer in the bar, we were able to walk back to bed.
Friday 4th December
On to Zion National Park, which required a 325 mile trip by freeway to the southwestern corner of Utah, then a 28 mile drive into the Park. The freeway was about as boring as it could be, initially cutting across completely desolate, scrubby, flat plains. Later we passed by large farms or ranches (many with their own exits from the freeway), with large herds of cattle, a few flocks of sheep, huge pastures with long mobile watering systems, and high piles of haybales. Some of the hay was green, presumably possible because of the aridness and low humidity of the area. (We had previously seen green Utah hay being transported to the Navajo lands in Arizona).
We arrived into Zion National Park in the late afternoon, as the setting sun was setting the peaks around Zion Canyon ablaze.
Most of the first white settlers in the Canyon were Mormons, who named many of the peaks and geological formations with religious descriptions or allusions, which are still used. As we made our way to the lodge, it was extremely beautiful, with the cottonwood trees and lush vegetation on the canyon floor softening the bare rocky walls of The Altar of Sacrifice, The West Temple, The Court of the Patriarchs, The Great White Throne, Temple of Sinawava and Weeping Rock.
Saturday 5th December
Today, we did one of the most frightening things we have ever done. It started off quite tamely, with a walk to the Emerald Pools. The pools are not much coloured at this time of year, presumably because of the lack of the algae which give the pools their blue-green colouring. Although the water flow over the falls was minimal, it was very pretty because of long icicles hanging down over cliff edges.
The path behind the waterfall was also covered in ice, making walking quite hazardous. The route up to the middle and upper falls was fine, as the path was bone dry. The upper pool, though small, was beautiful due to its setting at the base of a high cliff, from which ice repeatedly broke off with a crash as the sun warmed the rock.
On the pleasant walk back to our cabin, alongside the Virgin River, we passed several mule deer grazing in the valley, not much bothered by our presence. There were also large flocks of wild turkeys and numerous flying birds, large and small.
Later we drove to the trailhead for a walk to Angel's Landing which is a high pinnacle directly across the valley from the Great White Throne, a huge square-topped whitish mesa near the head of the Zion valley. There were quite a lot of people walking this paved trail, which involved a strenuous climb winding up a very steep 800 foot rock face to a col, then along a narrow echoey canyon to the base of a 400 foot vertical cliff which was ascended via 21 switchbacks (named Walter's Wiggles after the park superintendent who oversaw the building of them in 1930s).
Look for the people zigzagging up to the col
This effort brought us to Scout's Lookout, with spectacular views of the main valley and side canyons. However, this was only the start.
Looking ahead, we saw a very narrow ridge leading across and then steeply up to to the pinnacle about 300 feet further above us. A few people were slowly making their way up the virtually invisible trail, hanging on to chains which had been installed to reduce the number of accidents. Despite signs warning of the difficult, strenuous and dangerous climb, and stating baldly that people had fallen to their deaths from the rock, we decided to give it a go. This decision was not helped by a young woman, who sat with her mother on the last point before the chain climb (which she referred to as "Assessment Point"!), telling us that she had been informed by a Park employee that there had been four deaths from falling from the trail this year. Having assessed their options, she and her mother quite sensibly decided not to attempt the climb. Whether the information she was given was strictly correct is unclear, but it is documented that the last death occurred about a week before we were there, when a middle-aged woman fell 1000ft.
It was exceptionally demanding and very frightening, with at times no more than a toehold in the rock and a chain handhold to stop us plummeting to the valley below. We were by far the oldest people on this section of the trail and amongst the most timid, never having understood the thrill of rock-climbing or scaling mountains, supported only by ropes. Our short legs did not help when we were trying to negotiate some of the bigger rocks. We felt all the more inadequate watching a few young foolhardys, who were dressed in shorts despite the cold, and were nearly running up to the top. However, although most of the others climbing with us were 30-40 years younger than us, nearly all of them were very pleasant, polite young people from the US and elsewhere (including the UK). They treated us as they did each other and were very willing to give us advice and encouragement, without any hint of condescension! It was also a delight not to hear "you're welcome" and "have a nice day" in every conversation! One of the real pleasures of this sort of activity is that people put aside the veneers and platitudes of everyday encounters and treat everyone else as equals.
Coming down from the pinnacle was just as frightening and difficult as going up and the descent down Walter's Wiggles was hard on the knees. To calm down and to return to behaviour more befitting our ages, we drove to the top of the valley for photos of the sunset, then back to our cabin for a soak in the bath before dinner.
Unfortunately, we don't have a good photo of the last part of the climb, from Scout's Lookout to Angel's Landing, but the following two photos show the main pinnacle itself, with the full-sized trees on the top of Angel's Landing just visible, and a side view of the route from Scout's Lookout (right) to Angel's Landing (left). We did buy a poster to bring home, so you might see it if you visit us. You can also see information about it at www.zionnational-park.com/zion-angels-landing-trail.html
Why did we do the last part of the climb, against all of our instincts for survival? Partly "because it was there", perhaps, but more because, having put all the effort into getting up to Scout's Lookout, it seemed a shame to miss the opportunity of making it to the top. Neither of us would wish to do it again, but we would recommend it to anyone who wants a thrill and can overcome their very natural fear of heights.
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