The view from up there

“I wonder what the view looks like from up there,” I often think to myself. This weekend I got in a solo backpacking trip where I had the opportunity to discover just that.

I couldn’t find much information about this area. Just some reports about the 4WD roads that come in from the other direction. Definitely not a backpacking destination. Fine by me.

A sure sign I’ve crossed over from the National Park into BLM land.

The wind is bone-chilling on the open plateau. I take a detour up a canyon to see if a spring shown on the map is flowing.

All the water is frozen solid. Not what I was hoping for.

There are a few potholes filled with ice. I wack at them with my poles, hoping to break through to get at liquidy goodness underneath. But it’s too thick. I resort to melting snow for water.

A place to climb out of the canyon.

The wind gets worse near the high point. It should be the hottest part of the day. But I am wearing all my clothes (raingear, down coat, even my down balaclava) and hiking uphill and still can’t get warm.  When all my fingers go numb, I almost give up. But there is that drive inside. Not sure where it comes from. But it pushes me forward. Upwards.

At the rim, the view is even more breathtaking than I’d imagined. I'm glad I kept going.
All of the sudden, I enter a nature documentary. A golden eagle swoops overhead, then spirals around to join another eagle. They grasp talons and spin downward. Then finally, they let go and swoop back upwards. WOW! I’d heard eagles do this as a courtship behavior and to reinforce pair bonds. Seeing it in person I am completely awestruck.

This eagle came close! This photo is taken on my crappy iphone (i.e. no zoom).

I leave the eagles in peace and retreat. A few miles to the west, I set up my tent in the lee of a large rocky outcrop of sandstone. From here, I can see my park in the distance. My park I keep thinking. Mine.

But of course none of this is really mine.

After the 35-day government shutdown ended, HR got my paperwork through in record time and I started back as a “permanent” this week. I thought I would feel a sense of stability, but the shutdown shook away all illusions of that. Nevertheless, I am incredibly grateful for being able to live in this place that fills my heart with joy.

The next morning, I follow some old ranching roads to a wash and then turn up the wash into a nameless canyon that looks interesting on my map. Will I get to an impassible pour-off? Will I find a spring? Every twist and turn seems like an exciting adventure. Surely not as spectacular as other places, but as usual, the quiet and lack of human footprints makes up for it.

More frozen potholes.

Overall, a quiet trip. I continue to be astonished by the seemingly endless opportunities for hiking and exploring provided by the BLM land surrounding the more famous landmarks around Moab. It still feels like I could pick a different area every weekend and never get bored.

Still pretty wonderful, even if they are faint and take some imagination to see the bighorn sheep.