The Desert And Back

What happened was, my mom called a while back and demanded that I drive down to meet them in Southern Utah. The desert in the fall sounded just fine, and past me didn't care that future me would have to drive 15 hours each way to get there.

Having just returned, I'm gonna argue here that all those long hours spent in the car were almost the best part of the trip. I saw so much natural beauty outside that windshield. Fucking scenery! Roving rainstorms off in the distance, hanging their veil over the purple mountains. Oceans of lonesome sage brush. The canyon between Salt Lake and Green River, where steep ravines covered in orange scrub brush turned soft in the lilac twilight. Colors upon colors, the palette changing with every new valley ...

Anyway, we spent a couple days in Moab eating and hiking and staring at the rocks. I love that town. You're surrounded by red canyon walls, right there on the cusp of Arches, Canyonlands, and Monument Valley. Every time you walk outside, you see something worth sending a postcard about. Surreal!

Young, wild, and free on Alvord Salt Flats in Southern Oregon.

Lefty, clearly trespassing in the Ruby Mountains, Nevada. This was also the scene of a picturesque peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Paradise Valley, where we found a clutch gas station just in time to watch the sun dip.

Arches, lagoons, and cliffs carrying the stains of ages.

Nephew Pat was only mildly impressed with the scenery. Tough crowd, 11 year olds.

The motherfuckin Colorado River! Word on the street—it gets its name from its red color.

Me, thinking about geology at Canyonlands.

P.S. I borrowed this picture (and the one at the top!) from Mark, who, bless his heart, drove all the tuff shifts and crawled in the dirt to fix my tire.