I am thankful for the desert

Each time I go, I always say the same thing to myself on the way out: Utah desert is so freakin' cool. Why am I not out here more often? Time. Never have enough of it to myself. I went east for Thanksgiving last year, but this time I took my few free days to go west. It was hard to justify leaving the 60 degrees at home to go sleep out in the brisk, night air where 20 degrees was wishful thinking, but I said, if it wasn't snowing, I was going. Good choice.

Being out there makes me happy. You can haul all of your worries, self-doubt, and stupid, interpersonal crap out to the desert, and pretty soon you're reminded that it doesn't mean squat. At least that's what happens to me, if I'm lucky. You're surrounded by rocks that are way older than anyone you know, any thing you know, and you watch them wear away, grain by grain.

You can stare up into the clear night sky and gaze at the Milky Way, the few constellations you recognize, and, at least on Thursday night, the space shuttle hot on the tail of the ISS (that was really weird, till I realized what it was). You worry about bringing enough water, even in the late fall, for your hike. You worry about your toes never warming up while you sleep. You concentrate on only climbing up the things you'll be able to get down later on. Your brain tackles the basics and puts aside the rest.

Admittedly, it's only a temporary reprieve. Eventually, I always have to get back to the world of ringing cell phones (not mine), lousy drivers, deadlines, and all the other less pleasant details that make up my reality. But, once in a while, for just a couple of days, there's rocks, a couple ravens and peace.

More images and extraneous commentary:

Just 170 million years too late for the beach

A sudden craving for layer cake...

There were only three other cars at the trailhead when I started up the canyon. I didn't see another soul till I sat down for lunch at the turn around point. Fortunately the crowds and their offspring who showed up later didn't venture too far from the cars.

I named campsite #4 Nose Canyon, partly for the above specimens, and partly for my persistent head cold.

Standing on this ridge, I wound up in a flock of small birds that was passing by. I've never been surrounded by birds in flight at eye-level. It was neat.

The Narrows at Little Wild Horse Canyon

Lizards live here. I only saw one live one, and he was super fast. The not-live one that had (probably) been flattened under a cairn while sleeping was not.

I went into Hanksville, looking for a rock shop and a guy who might tell me where some geodes could be found, but I was unable to locate the shop (I've since learned the owner has passed away). I was able to find a gas station so lonely that every sound I made echoed under the awning. I don't think there was even an attendant present. Fortunately, I then stumbled onto salvation in the form of Stan's Burger Shak. Since this has been my week of meats (it starts with the prosciutto in the soup, then comes the yearly sausage stuffing...), I didn't hesitate to finish it off with a meat with extra meat sandwich, a chicken club. And I know that as a dairy-averse person, I should have avoided all contact what's in the image above, but the sign said the milkshakes were famous! And they came in so many flavors! How could I resist? My normal, Chex Mix-free diet resumed after I put the car in the garage.

Thanks to Elliot, friend of the Gooneys, whose slide show inspired the destination of this trip.