Windows

Other than being there in the middle of the night, this was the only time I have ever seen the Windows parking lot completely empty.

Walking up and down the trails completely by myself in a place that is usually one of the busiest sections of the park was pretty remarkable.

Almost magical, in fact.

It really is a beautiful area, but I think a lot of the time it is loved too much.  So many tourists stroll up to that North Window so they can get a photo of themselves underneath an arch, and then they're on their way again (most likely to Devils Garden or Delicate Arch).

But as I walked quietly by myself today, I noticed things I don't usually see when it's busy or when I'm leading a guided walk.

I began the primitive loop going behind the South and North Windows, and I stopped every couple minutes and strained my ears and eyes.  During one of these stops, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a staring contest with a mule deer.

We both stood perfectly still.

Then it lowered its head and began to drink from one of the pot holes.

I took a few steps to try and change my vantage point, and at that moment a buck with large antlers came bounding up from out of sight.  With his signal, four more deer appeared seemingly out of nowhere and the herd was bounding off together over the ridge and out of sight.

Even on a day when I was the only other hiker on the trail, I would have missed them entirely had I not stopped every so often and looked around.

I think we often go outside and go hiking and go biking and go running and can even be extremely active outdoors, but sometimes we forget to just go and be still.

“Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.” 

~ Pslam 46:10 ~

Campgrounds & Isolophobia

Sometimes camping with cows is more enjoyable than camping with people.

I decided to stay close to Moab for this "weekend" (my weekly two days off).  There are several campgrounds along highway 128 that parallel the Colorado River.  I found a site in the early afternoon and pitched my tent.  I chose the site because it was relatively remote - hidden in a cluster of trees blocking the neighboring campsites.

I happily left my tent and set off for my afternoon hike through Negro Bill Canyon.

Upon returning, I saw cars parked in the neighboring campsites and people setting up.  Of course this was fine, and it was something I was expecting.  I sauntered down to my site ready to eat my maple donut for dessert, when I suddenly notice in horror that a large mammoth-sized house tent has been constructed only twenty feet away from my tent!

Is this real life?!

These people constructed their "tent" (if you can even call it that) right on the border of my site and theirs.

It would have not been such a big deal had they been quiet, nature-loving folks who set out to experience the silence and solitude of the great outdoors.  But no, they are loud and obnoxious with a yapping dog and apparently are too scared to camp in their own space, so they huddle in as close as physically possible for their behemoth tent to fit where another human is already camped.

Again, it would have been fine had they respected their other campers, but throughout the night and into the early morning hours there was shouting, cackling, grunting, barking and who knows what else.

Fortunately there was a storm throughout the night, and the strong winds blocked most of it out.  I was nice and cozy inside my solo tent, daydreaming about their wind-sail-of-a-tent being blown away causing them to float away down the river on their air mattress.

I decided that camping with cows isn't such a bad thing, after all.

Their campsite... plenty of space, no tent.

My campsite... my tent on the left, theirs trying to sneak in.

Loud Silence

No BearCows to join me last night.  They were out there, but not sleeping on top of me like they were last time.  It was a very restful night for me, actually.

After a thunderstorm had passed, complete with plenty of rain and hail, I was able to build a fire from some damp wood and a candle.  The sun set quickly, and as I settled into my warm tent I listened to my fire fall asleep with soft crackles.

Eventually, silence.

I fell asleep quickly and only woke up a few times during the night.  When you're surrounded by such a deep silence, the slightest sound amplifies tenfold.

The creaking of a tree was the only sound to stir me out of slumber.  A brief pause in my sleep, not a disturbance.  The tree and the wind finished their duet and silence began to play again.

Loud silence until morning.