Too Much Driving
Driving. So much driving. We’ve been told that we don’t allow the grass grow beneath our feet. That is no lie. Today’s grass-free adventures include fourteen hours of driving, four states, and two national park units!
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/dXoZpdvqRWab7gbJ7
May 27th, 2024 - Dakotas Day 4
It was early. Too early. I consider myself a morning person, but I have my limits. Thus, when we woke up at 4 AM to catch sunrise in Canyonlands, I stayed awake just long enough to load our stuff in the car. Before we had left Moab, I was back asleep in the passenger seat. Evidently, I missed a lot of action while I snoozed. Tyler told me later that he really enjoyed the roads while they were devoid of Moab’s usual traffic. I’ve been married long enough to know what that really means. I bet you do too.
I didn’t fully grasp how fast Tyler had been driving until we got to our sunrise spot. We climbed a short trail, following behind a sleepy family with the same intentions as us. We couldn’t help but overhear the husband make a comment about “those people in the Subaru.”“Shhhh!” the wife hissed at him. “They’re right behind us!”
The husband whirled around and squinted at us through the semi-dark. “Are you the Subaru people?” he asked incredulously.
“...Yeah?” Tyler answered cautiously.
“Man, you were flying around those corners down there on the road! I wanted to give you a fist bump!”
I blinked at Tyler. Exactly how fast had he been going?
With a chuckle, the man added, “My dad was sitting in the backseat of our car. He kept saying, ‘Pick it up! We gotta keep pace! Put your car in sports mode!’”
We all chuckled, then lapsed into silence. The morning was waking up, and we didn’t want to miss a second of it. We were in one of Utah’s iconic sunrise locations, after all. Sunrise at Mesa Arch is the name of the game.
It quickly became evident that we were only two of many people with this goal. 20-30 people wandered up the short trail and clustered around the arch on the edge of the canyon. As the crowd grew, so did the etiquette infractions. In a scenic location, everyone has a different idea of manners. Some people want to just enjoy the view. Other people come for the photos. Polite photographers wait their turn, try to take them quickly, and then get out of the way. But what do you do when you are all photographers waiting for the exact same moment? Some people crowded close to the arch, claiming the best angles for themselves. Other people stayed back, trying to maintain a turn-taking mentality. One woman took it upon herself to police our group, barking at anyone that pushed their tripods too far into the shot. Eventually, we all descended into a fend-for-yourself attitude. It was unfortunate, but I think we all got our shot anyways.
What a shot it was! Mesa Arch is an ideal sunrise location because it overlooks a misty blue canyon. When the sun’s angle is just right, the bottom of the arch is ignited with a crimson glow. With the crimson arch above and the blue valley below, it becomes a spectacular image. The sunrise spot has become a hallmark of Canyonlands National Park. Almost every brochure and website for the park has a sunrise picture of Mesa Arch somewhere. It’s a pretty common image to be replicated in calendars and posters as well. When we first visited Canyonlands on our honeymoon in 2022, we had no idea Mesa Arch existed. As we later learned more about national parks, we kept recognizing this fantastic sunrise picture of a sandstone arch overlooking a pretty canyon. We were shocked when we realized we had missed such an icon on our first Canyonlands visit! This quick sunrise jaunt was our way of rectifying that mistake.
As soon as the sunlight turned pale and hot, we headed back to Martin the Subaru. We had a long day ahead of us. No time was to be wasted.
In a remote Colorado valley between two small towns, we experienced the equivalent of a Biblical plague. Large red bugs covered every inch of road and crunched under our tires. So thick was their presence that our tires left red tracks on the road like blood smears. They crawled onto the blacktop from the ditches, fluttering into the air like red origami when we whizzed by. It was astounding and disgusting. It was so startling, in fact, that I didn’t even think to snag a video until we were almost out of the plague. When we later regained signal, I was surprised to find hardly any information about the bugs. I had expected the Internet to be flooded with videos and articles of the swarming masses in the Colorado valley. I found, instead, a collection of articles from 2023 in which similar bugs swarmed a town in Nevada. Pursuing this Internet black hole, I concluded that our bug plague must have been caused by the same insects. Mormon crickets are a natural part of the ecological landscape in Colorado and Nevada. Occasionally, they burst from the ground in “super-hatches.” They descend, en masse, on any food source near their hatching grounds. Farmers’ crops are often the target of their chomping maws. If they cannot procure enough food, they will turn on each other, which serves to keep their populations in check. It was fascinating, disgusting, and very Biblical.
As an interesting aside, I recently located an Internet article about a Mormon cricket infestation on the same Colorado road that we were driving. This has solidified my conclusion about the bugs’ identity. Our 2024 plague was likely comprised of the hatchlings of the 2023 swarm encompassed in the article I found. I will include the article below!
The remainder of our day was bug-free, thankfully. The quiet emptiness of the surrounding landscape remained the same, but as we traveled north, it took on a different flavor. Tyler and I alternated driving, listening to podcasts and audiobooks as trees were periodically plucked from the broad valleys. The mountains flattened to smooth rolling hills. Sage was crowded out by thick prairies of grass.
In Rawlins, Wyoming, we stopped to tour the original state penitentiary of Wyoming. The stone building was tall and prim. Its barred windows surveyed us with half-rimmed, disapproving eyes. Inside the penitentiary, displays of inmate art predominated the rooms. There was remarkable talent pinned behind the bars of their cells. Just as remarkable were the tales of their misdeeds. Most of the penitentiary inmates were gruesome murderers. Annie Bruce, for example, was convicted of poisoning her father with strychnine in an apple pie. When giving her testimony, she asserted that she had no motive to kill her father. She was simply overcome by an urge to kill.
Unlike the inmates, our visit to the penitentiary was short. Drawn by the desire to finish up our long road trip, we were soon climbing back into Martin the Subaru. After that, we only stopped for restroom breaks. A word of advice, dear readers. Don’t attempt a restroom stop in the prairie unless you have no other option available. There are no trees to shield your business!
As the horizon took on a hazy blue cast, we arrived on the threshold of Devils Tower National Monument. The prairie dogs immediately captured our interest. The plump rodents were everywhere, waddling around the grass and keeping watch on their small dirt mounds. When they concluded we were a threat, the prairie dog assigned to watch duty would narrow its beady eyes at us. Then, it would throw back its head and scream “Chew!” At that alarm, its companions would scurry back into their holes. After some moments, furry heads would return to the surface, then commence their supper. This cycle repeated itself endlessly, much to our entertainment.
After fourteen hours in the car, our legs were stiff. We treated ourselves to a stroll around Devil’s Tower to relieve our discomfort. The strange pillar was just beginning to glow golden under the molten sun’s light. Small bundles of colorful fabric fluttered on the tree branches. These Native American prayer bundles reminded us that we were in a sacred place. Many Native American tribes had religious significance attributed to the tower. Listening to the birds sing their evening melodies, it wasn’t hard to see why. The landscape had a special sort of peace about it. The sunset was just a little prettier, the breeze a bit warmer, the birds more musical. After a long day rattling around in the car, it was like heaven on earth. It was a sacred place to us too. Our travelers’ hearts were at rest.
Native American history at Devil’s Tower: https://www.nps.gov/deto/learn/historyculture/americanindians.htm
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