Arches National Park

Exploring Earth’s Amazing History

And, an “Accidental Tourist” Bear (sign) sighting

In the years since my children moved away, I’ve spent a great deal of time traveling. From small towns in Central America, Canada and Europe to the wide open expanses of America’s heartland, I’m an “Accidental Tourist.” In those often dusty, shadow filled, and at times pristine destinations, I listen to those who make this world amazing, but at the same time, learning more about myself. While most ask why, the few who really know me truly understand: Nothing can replace your children, nothing. So, I explore mostly to escape what some take for granted. Later, I’ll talk more about life, loss and finding purpose.

I digress.. My trip to Denver

On this trip, it was 48 hours (exactly) in Colorado and Utah. I’d never been to either state, so this saga was brand new and totally unfamiliar. I try to travel every 4-6 weeks and Arches National Park has always been high on my list.  My friends always ask, why in the heck (I’ll use that version) do you always fly so early (before 6am)? I love getting to my destinations with all day to explore. So, Zero-Dark-Thirty is quite the norm. Yeah, so there I was at Hobby Airport for a 5:40am flight to Denver. What surprised me the most about this flight was that the plane was full! There were at least 180 other fools who got up at 2:30am to fly Southwest, so I wasn’t the only idiot, errr… passenger traveling on this pre-dawn trek.

The flight was smooth and uneventful. As we took off, I pondered where I am and where I’m trying to go as a human on this planet. That question never seems to have an answer, but it’s now become a traditional question for my travels, and leaves  some level of peace knowing there is no discernable answer. While pondering my shadow in the new world order, I did notice people were ordering cocktails at 6am flying west over Texas. Who am I to be critical, as I do the same when traveling to Belize. After the first round of cocktails, coffee and snacks, most of us drifted off to sleep. About an hour or so later, I found myself looking down over a mountain range, that I could only guess to be the Rockies. Still snow capped, pure and captured in time, these are the places I’ll likely never explore, at least properly. One day I said, before drifting off to sleep again. No, I only had coffee thank you. On final approach into Denver, you look out the windows and can see the mountains, and then the Captain says, “current weather is 47 degrees!.” Wait, what? It’s late spring. Oh yeah, my jacket is in the closet at home. I’m uttering “stupid American tourist” as we prepare to land. It would not be the last time I said that on this trip. Wings down in Denver was uneventful despite warnings from the Captain that we would could expect a bumpy touchdown.

Denver and the Road Trip

The airport in Denver is a “mini me” to Atlanta. The same type of shuttle/tram system gets you from your plane to the main terminal. It was all so remotely familiar. While not a fan of the “ATL,” Denver seemed a bit more manageable and far less chaotic. It’s all good here. The arrows pointed me to the rental car bus stop, for the ride to the terminal. Off in the distance, I can clearly see the mountains. And the very brisk temperature don’t seem to matter, at all. At the rental car counter, (who shall remain nameless) I was convinced i needed to upgrade from my mid-sized car to an SUV,  because I was driving through the mountain passes. I nodded my head like the old school daschund dog head in the back window of the vintage 1964 buick and pulled out of the lot with my 4 wheel drive guzzler.. Little did i know, my rental “upgrade” was as costly as 2 nights at the hotels I paid for, and I never drove through an inch of mountain snow. Cue the “stupid American tourist” music. Why in the ____ did I feel like Clark Griswold from National Lampoon’s Vacation?

Go west young man! I was on the road, driving nearly 5 hours and 350 miles to Arches National Park. The views were amazing and pictures would never fully convey what I was seeing along the way. Taking photos while driving is frowned upon in the United States compared to other parts of the world, so you’ll have to trust me on this one. It was cool though, seeing signs for Breckenridge, Vail, and Aspen while winding through the countryside. After dozens of mountain passes and then vast plains, I reached the Arizona/Utah border. One hour at 85 miles an hour, and I’d reach my destination. No longer in the tundra, the temperature was now pushing 95 degrees.

Arches National Park

Pulling up to Arches National Park, is more like a step back in time. You know this place is huge when you pay for entry, and your pass is good for a week! After leaving the visitor center, there is a slow winding road leading to what some call an amazing adventure.

The first place you pull over is a location called “Park Avenue.”  There, you see vast canyon walls on both sides, with a lengthy trailhead at the bottom of a descending path. Like most tourists, you tend to take more pictures at the first stop than the last, as excitement drives your camera shutter, instead of your brain. Beside me, an SUV from Oregon and a rental from Florida. I spent about 45 minutes here, scoping cool locations to take photos. At the same time, I spent a great deal of time getting to know the people around me. After more than a dozen photos taken of the family from Japan, I was forced (or staying to take more photos) to leave this stop for the next place to pause and ponder.

About half a mile down the road, you pull over again. In the distance you can see the La Sal Mountains. Keep in mind this vast range is over 20 miles away. But on this afternoon with zero percent humidity, these mountains were crystal clear. On this trip, a Utah native was scheduled to be standing beside me. It’s ironic how that works out you know. Pulling away from this parking area, I left those thoughts behind as I moved on this journey through history. Next stop, Courthouse Towers. Not much is known about this place, even from Wikipedia. But, I was awed by the massive beauty. Here, I got out of my rental car and walked around a bit. I was taken back to one of my favorite movies, “Planet of the Apes.” Thinking to myself, this is what Charlton Heston must have seen after his spaceship crashed on a desolate planet, aka Earth. Funny, I walked around this place thinking about my son, the one time (as a child) anthropologist and what he’d think of this “land of the dinosaurs.” I stood here in “dry heat” pondering many things on this day.

I drove past the “Petrified Dunes” without stopping. Hey, nobody stopped there. Don’t judge me, as I wasn’t even sure what I was even looking at. Seriously. I was trying to get to “balanced rock.” Pulling up, I had several thoughts. What do you think this looks like? I’ll leave it at that. Also noticed, the amount rock stacking here. It appears people were trying to create their own history. For the record, it didn’t really bother me, but I’m the novice in this part of the world. I walked around these amazing pieces of history (old and new) for a bit before moving on.

Double Arch and Friends

To make you feel tiny

Driving on, I found myself heading to the “meat” of Arches. Double Arch is the crown of a series of arches you could walk to after parking your car. While it took almost an hour to walk between all of them, this was truly an amazing place. Furthest away is Turret Arch and the North and South Windows (both Arches). There is also a place called Cove of Caves and Elephant Butte. Regarding the Cove and Elephant, you can see them from a distance, but can’t easily walk to, let alone walk on them. The craziest part of this, an SUV (or Urban Assault Vehicle, aka “Stripes”) from Russia that clearly looked like the first phases of an invasion. I followed a couple of girls (who me) as they quickly passed me to the top of the summit near north/south window. At this point, people were all around us. This place is just too amazing to be seen on your own and I was right.

Double Arch is perhaps the most amazing, What started out as sinkhole ended up as this. See, this is what happens when you don’t fill them, right? Take that, urban planners. You could sit part of a one story building inside this place and there was still space for a 2 car garage.. it was very cool. Climbing through, not so cool. This was much easier to look at than to navigate on foot and hand. In the distance you can hear people who made it to the top in multiple languages. Russian was the language of the day. Clearly, this was an international destination and I’m just a Virginia guy on hiatus. I stayed here and looked around for a while, mostly trying not to forget this experience. The sun began to settle further in the western sky and I wanted to get over to the path to Delicate Arch. That though, involved another drive to another parking lot.

Delicate Arch… dude..

When pulling up to the parking lot, you see the survivors. These are the people who made it to the top (and survived to tell the tale) and back. Let me tell you, they looked whipped. I parked, checked my water bottles and looked up at the vertical hell all were about to ascend. The guide says this was a 90 minute round trip journey. Why does it take that long to go one plus mile? Yeah, I was hating life pretty much from the beginning of this trek. And until I got to the top, it only got worse. A man (with his two sons) from Katy friended me on the way up. Clearly he could see me failing and was trying to assist this struggling warrior. To be honest, I’m in decent shape, but not sure I would make it to the top. About ⅔ of the way up, there was this goat trail, aka path to reach the top. As a person somewhat afraid of heights, this was the latest in series of challenges this afternoon. After saying “death on the left, life on the right” 94 times, I made it to the top. Even though, my legs were weak and my stomach was tight, I made it.

At the top, was another story, as this was a crowded place awaiting the amazing sunset. Some would stay the night, capturing the wonders of the milky way in the western sky. The rest of us would make the perilous trek to the bottom of the mountain and back to our cars. Hopefully, without sprained ankles or broken bones.

Yeah, it was that kinda trek, seriously. Delicate Arch, is just that. How and why God decided to place this piece of magic here is for others to debate. The Arches has been #1 on my list of places to visit for years. This beauty was worth the flight and drive, one hundred fold. As for me, I was slightly afraid to walk around this gem, mainly afraid to fall to my death (you can’t make this up).  I fired of several dozen photos here, as the skies were quickly changing. At the same time, I spoke in-depth with the people around me. I’ve never met a stranger, and this day was proof. From Russians to Japanese, and of course the couple from Idaho, new friends were added to my mental rolodex. As the sun began to set, so too was my time on this mountain top. I had little desire to navigate this path to the bottom in the dark, so I began my trek down while I could still see the ground. As the shadows lengthened, I walked with gravity on my side on the way down. As I’ve never met a stranger, I joined a group heading back to the parking lot. They were park rangers at nearby Zion National Park, with the day off. The walk was uneventful and by the time we reached the bottom we’d already exchanged email addresses and were following each other on social media.

Grand Junction, Colorado

The drive back to Grand Junction, was uneventful, except for the speed limit. When the sign says 85 mph, and you’re the driving “Miss Daisy” guy, the trip is always eventful, surely. But getting back to the hotel was the beginning of this journey. The “Grand Vista” hotel was once the crown jewel of Grand Junction, but that was then. The motif was a bit dated, the carpet “circa 1971,” and the rooms were slightly “Howard Johnson-ish.” Still though, this place was clean and the people kind.

The sounds from the lounge really got my attention. After a quick shower and costume change,, I found myself slightly reliving the bar scene from “48 Hours.” There was a new Sheriff in town, and it was not me. But the country music, and the karaoke was legendary.  Dude, I was struggling to contain my laughter. For the locals, this was THE event and I should consider myself lucky to be here. Eh, maybe not. All I can say, a singing coach could retire from these souls with visions of “The Voice” dancing in their heads. After drinking bad bourbon, flat sprite (no ginger ale) and being called “boy” more than once by the locals, I called it a night. The next day, a trip to the edge of Maroon Bells, and a close encounter with a Bear (sign).

In Search of Maroon Bells

The drive back through Colorado equally exciting. Entering the Rockies along Interstate 70 was again, amazing. The interesting part of the journey was the river which flowed along the side of the highway. At 70 mph, you quickly pass the towns of Parachute, Rulison, Antlers, New Castle and countless other names with a history few will ever know unless you’re from those parts. I was searching for Glenwood Springs. I’d turn off there, driving another hour along highway 82 to Aspen, with Maroon Bells nearby.

A few signs and my GPS kept me on the right path to Maroon Bells. At this point the mountains are near by, and on this early summer day you could still see snow in the distance. This was beautiful country. And from what I can tell, lots of wealth here. The local airport was full of Gulfstream G650’s. You can google the cost and get my drift.

Anyway, the road to Maroon Bells quickly became a narrow one, with the trees closing in on this path.

Pulling up to a closed gate was the first downer. This journey was on the verge of becoming a bust, but not yet.  Several dozen cars were parked on both sides of the closed gate. Clearly people were walking, riding, skating to Maroon Bells. It couldn’t be that far, right? Why does every walk I take always go uphill? Seriously? Anyway, I’ve got on the right shoes and I’m in pretty good shape, so it’s all good (or so he thought). The walk was beautiful, at least in the beginning. Mountains were on both sides. The air is dry, 71 degrees and I’m not perspiring, all good right? The walk continues, and I’m starting to get frustrated. And then the infamous sign, BEARS!!! Seriously. At that point, I passed a couple walking back from the Bells. I asked them how much further. Hoping for the “just around the next hill” answer, I was deflated when they said, “Oh, another 3-4 miles.” Psssssssssssssssssss. That was the sound of this journey deflating right before my eyes. At this moment, the strategic decision to retreat made perfect sense. The joke is, you’re only bear bait when you’re the slowest person running away. Another 3-4 miles, and I won’t be able to run, and I’m alone. The road to Maroon Bells won on this day, but I will be back. The trip to the car was downhill, but it was still a defeat. My first as a traveler, except for that night in Manhattan in 1986. But, that’s another story all together.

On to Aspen and Denver

With a few bottles of water now in my system, I was craving produce. Aspen and $3.99 per pound grapes were waiting for me. Driving into Aspen is like Houston’s River Oaks, Beverly Hills or Palm Beach, but nestled in the mountains. On this late spring day, the snow was still glistening in the distance but I was on a grape hunt! I parked at their version of a Whole Foods, gave my wallet a sad look and stepped in. The people Aspen, with wealth dripping from every orifice gave me the “we haven’t seen many of you in these parts, boy” look. I asked to locate the produce section, made my selection and proceeded to the checkout aisle, tossed in a bottle of water and braced for the total. Standing there, a flashback to Mainz, Germany in 2013 and a Farmer’s Market for the record books came to mind. Back to reality. I get the total, hand over a kidney and depart. The grapes, good. My wallet, not so much.

The drive to Denver was uneventful. At one point near Vail, I pulled over and took a short nap. It’s just that peaceful in these parts. Arriving in Denver shortly after 6, I checked in to a “posh” hotel, took a shower, and then went out for a quick bite. One day, I will return just to explore Denver. I’m told it’s a pretty cool town, but this “Accidental Tourist” was in departure mode. My time in this timezone was rapidly coming to a close.

The flight to Houston, was smooth EXCEPT for the connecting flight in Dallas. Weather in other parts of the country was creating havoc in D-town. My 60 minute layover had me wheels up almost 4 hours later. I called my little sister Sonia, my mom, and made a few new friends at the airport. Hey, communication, it’s what I do.

In the beginning of this note, I mentioned, “life, loss and finding purpose.” 5 years ago, my children moved with their mom to Maryland as she would remarry. In the days and weeks to follow a wound just below the surface began to form. It’s the kind that never heals. As I found myself falling down an emotional rabbit hole, I latched on to my old friend photography as a tool to focus on the good. Travel followed to fill the empty weekends without my kids. My friend, Stephen Davis once said you have a finite and precious window with your children before they become adults. I lost 5 years with Glenn (and still counting with Maddie). So now, I lace up my bootstraps, creating meaningful content for my clients, while documenting my travels through photography and blogs. One day I hope they’ll understand dad’s journey because, I sure don’t.

From my favorite movie, “Castaway.”

“Keep Breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise,. Who knows what the tide could bring..”  Chuck Nowland

From one Accidental Tourist to another, don’t forget to tell someone you love them. You might make their day. This journey is dedicated to my brother Ron Edwards, who recently lost his father to cancer. Love you man!

~Glenn, the “Accidental Tourist.”