Embracing Arches National Park

I recently visited for the first time the two National Parks near Moab, Utah: Canyonlands and Arches. Maybe due to the heat - it was almost 100 degrees F - or possibly the long time it took driving there earlier that day from Durango, I was disappointed on my initial visit to Arches.

Undeniably, the namesake sandstone formations were beautiful. And so was the isolated desert setting in view of snow-capped mountains. But my first stop in the park was at a site described as Fallen Arches, where a drawing reimagined the vista. Instead of gazing at the two distant red-rock mountains, the viewer was invited to imagine a time when the formations were connected via two towering arches. My immediate thought was that the park was originally created because of this no-longer-existing Natural Wonder of the World. Due to some unfortunate event since the park's founding one hundred years ago, like an earthquake, visitors would have to settle on witnessing the many yet smaller and less impressive arches that remained. Boy oh boy, I soon learned, did I ever get that wrong.

But before my come-to-Jesus moment, I was also dismayed at my first view of Delicate Arch. It might be the most famous arch in the park, if not in the world. Solitary, asymmetrical, and gigantic, it's even proudly displayed on most Utah license plates. While from the parking lot it was easy to see the arch far in the distance, reaching the span took a three-mile roundtrip hike, which I wasn't going to attempt in the heat.

Adding to my consternation, when I did finally take a much shorter hike for an up-close view of Skyline Arch, another formation, I felt obliged to tell a group of German tourists to stop flying their drone. One of them even disputed whether there were signs indicating this prohibition. Of course my mind didn't rest until I double-checked back at the trailhead, where, yep, there was a sign. But no recalcitrant Germans were in sight for an I-told-you-so.

It was well after six pm when I decided to hike into an area of Arches called Devils Garden. The trails were mostly shaded while the day's heat was also finally starting to relent. I only walked a half-mile to Pine Tree Arch which affected me unlike any of the other formations so far that day. It wasn't especially tall or wide or famous but a sunlit view of a rocky landscape glowed in the distance, all perfectly framed by the arch. The beauty of the moment chilled me unlike the shade or copious slugs of cool water could. And I was having my revelation.

The wonder of Arches was not the oohs or the aahs like I might collect with every view into the Grand Canyon. It was each moment of discovery as I approached an arch and modified my perspective, the shadows and sunlight re-coloring the scene with each step. The yodels of canyon wrens and the beeps of violet-green swallows laid a soundtrack to the effect. And a silent breeze tempered it. I was meeting the arch a first, a second, and an infinite number of times. And the physical effort I put in, the hike, only heightened the satisfaction.

I visited Canyonlands National Park the next morning, thirty miles away. The park covers almost five times the area as Arches, and is divided into three general regions. I only visited one of them, Island in the Sky, where overlooks from a broad mesa offered views of the Colorado and Green Rivers meandering below before their confluence several miles south. Their respective canyons stretched out far below harboring unique rock formations, sheer cliffsides, and deep chasms.

But Arches National Park must have still lingered in my mind, as it was Canyonlands' own Mesa Arch that proved my most interesting photographic subject that morning. If the park allowed, I'd have wanted to cross it on foot, not to mention coming back to photograph it at sunset, and then sunrise the next morning.

It was another hot day around Moab, even warmer than the day before. So it wasn't a difficult decision to return to Arches closer to six pm that evening. (In early June, sunset wasn't until almost nine pm.) A stop at Park Avenue Viewpoint promised shade but also one of the most stunningly beautiful landscapes I've ever seen in the Southwest. While I demurred in the heat, a one-mile hike through a canyon floor lined by skyscraper-high, red-rock walls offered up-close views of rock formations like the Three Sisters, Courthouse Towers, and Queen Nefertiti. No arches, but sublime nevertheless.

I did hike a half mile to Double Arch where two, one hundred-foot adjoining arches and the adjacent cliffside created the effect of a roofless dome. This sacred space mesmerized me and everyone present as we gathered silently in a reverent communion, whispering as we snapped pictures.

The last arch I visited might be the second most famous, after Delicate, in the park. It was a mile-long hike back in Devils Garden where I witnessed Landscape Arch, the longest arch not only in the park but in North America. Large segments of rock came crashing down in the 1990's, so visitors can no longer walk directly under the span. However I hiked close enough to need to look up at it overhead. I could see the missing chunks and the extremely narrow diameter in the expanse's middle. Fragile, vulnerable: good heavens, I was personalizing stone!

There were many more arches to see and write about in the park, which is home to over 2,000 at last count. There were also magnificent stone outcrops like Fiery Furnace and features like Balanced Rock that have weathered into their own unique stories and personalities. I wanted to have a favorite arch, but I preferred not to choose one. Kind of like a parent who shies away from the same question about his kids, I thought, "I love them each equally."

A short time after my visit to Arches, I told a friend about the visit and she used the term 'experiential' in an inquiry. I'm not sure what she meant exactly but, I think, I was indeed having a uniquely personal experience at Arches. It wasn't about the singular views or the overall grander, it was about the relationship with each arch, each formation. With few exceptions, the park service let us visitors walk directly up to the arches and then under them, and of course touch them. How else could we ever get to know them?