Arches or Disneyland?
Our first stop was to confirm our backcountry permits with the ranger. I recalled a simple portable type building with a long counter behind which a couple ranges stood. Off to one end was a gift nook with hats, t-shirts, water bottles, sunscreen and postcards. That building is nowhere to be found. We enter a crowded, beautiful permanent facility. Outside is a four-spigot water filling station, bathrooms and benches and tables in the shade. Inside is a full gift shop, museum exhibit section and off to the side, the backcountry ranger desks. Visitors crowd in and out the doors running into each other. Where did all these people come from? We give a worried glance to each other. With a quick assessment of what people are wearing we take comfort that they are not equipped for backcountry–probably campground and tour bus folks.
We work out our backcountry plans with the ranger. Our first night we will park at Sand Dune Arch and hike out the underground gas line scar/trail into the backcountry zone. The second night we will park at Devils Garden trail head and hike out from there.
We enter the park and take the road spur to visit The Windows. I can’t help but do my best Asian Telescammer impression as we pull in to the crowded lot. “Hello? I calling from the Windows. You have computer problem I fix for you.” We get out and walk the short trail to the base of Double Arch and then to The Windows. Jason is agitated by the presence of so many people. “Is Delicate Arch trail like this?” he asks. I frankly respond,”It’s more popular than these arches. It’s probably worse.” “We’re not doing that trail.” He makes perfect sense to me. I too am take aback by the crowd and reminisce to my solo visit years before. There were not nearly as many visitors then. Jason is also concerned about having enough time to truly get into the backcountry and set up camp before dusk.
We drive to the Sand Dune Arch trail head. The parking lot has three cars. One is backing out to leave. We gear up and head out. Just past the sandstone fins that hide this arch from the road we are alone. I assume now after 4pm that many are settling in at the campground and cooking up dinner. The tour buses are gone for the day.
We walk in the warm soft orange sand down the scar/trail left by the installation of an underground gas line. Something darts. Was that a lizard? Maybe? We choose our place for the tent, rehydrate dinner and set up. The setting sun silhouettes a set of distant fins with reds, purples and magentas. The gusting wind is the only sound beside our own voices. Late at night the winds stills and we sleep. All is quiet…except for my squeaky sleeping pad.
