Day 4: Dead Horse Point and the Colorado River
I arrive at Dead Horse Point around 7:25 AM. This morning’s sunrise is projected for 7:32, but a snowfall is also in the forecast. A thick, purple, luscious blanket of clouds covers the sky almost entirely, leaving only one thin, clear margin of heaven on the horizon where the sun is expected to announce the day.
Myself and two gentlemen – one traveling from Bozeman, the other a tour guide in Antelope Canyon – are here to capture these moments. We share photography tips and tricks and watch as the skies above and canyon below slowly, gently come to light in an array of jewel tones, as if earth and cloud are composed of ruby, sapphire, topaz and amethyst. Views of the canyons and serpiginous river inspire a combination of peace and awe. The sun smiles briefly, cheerily through the small degree of latitude between the horizon line and the cloud cover, then disappears as it continues its climb. Meanwhile, over the course of thirty minutes, grey clouds that clearly carry precipitation crawl toward our overlook. I slowly walk along the rim of the canyon taking photos, and in doing so, I encounter yesterday’s friends from Poland – Rafal and Stephania – once again. We linger a while, conversing and looking out over the vista, grateful to see each other anew. They plan to set course for Zion National Park this afternoon, and I bid them well as they go.
Next, I connect with Bridget, Tori and Loki, who have joined in the interval between my own arrival earlier this morning and the sunrise. They graciously extend a cup of fresh coffee from their Jetboil and we three continue meandering along the rim, noticing tiny, infrequent snowflakes falling. There is levity, joy, and beauty in sharing these experiences among friends. We have a blast shooting photos for each other and gazing in wonder as the snowfall intensifies over a period of around an hour. Tonight, we plan to share dinner together again, and we agree to select a location later on. They then return to Moab, while I abide a little longer.
The canyon, visible in clear detail earlier in the morning, is now shrouded in a soft, cozy fog. I see no one else around the overlook and I saunter slowly along the path with panoramic views of this landscape. I throw in a twirl through the snow every once in a while, delighted, akin to a child perusing a field of wildflowers. A cool, gentle snow, the kind that drops whimsically from heaven in the movies, is beginning to accumulate and sneak its way into my boots, gloves, and collar. I muster all the Minnesotan spirit that I can and press on, continuing to take photos for another hour. The gingerbread rocks and icing snow make for a magical, picturesque subject.
With gratitude and contentment, I return to the parking lot and brush the snow from my car’s windows. I feel tired and not up for further hiking today, but recall reading about a scenic drive just outside of town that sounds like a leisurely way to spend an afternoon. I find the highway – Highway 128 – heading north and east from Moab and feel comfortable and at home on the slushy streets. The moment I turn onto this long and winding road, I can tell it is going to be a beautiful drive.
Tall earthy cliffs line either side of the coursing Colorado River. Tucked in between the bluffs and over the water, there is a smoky, hypnotic layer of clouds that dance quickly between and across peaks. The rocky castles are reflected in the river water that darts by at their foundations. Untouched snow covers the river banks and conceals the plant life lining the highway. Patches of ice extend like puzzle pieces across shallower river shores. Who knew the American Southwest could be such a winter wonderland?
I drive for around fifteen miles, stopping every couple of minutes to snap photos of unique nooks and crannies along this byway. Ever so slowly, the snowfall ceases and the clouds tease at unraveling to allow open sky to pass through. I turn onto the La Sal Loop Road toward Castle Valley and drive with no destination in mind, stumbling on perhaps one of my favorite moments of the day.
Mine is the only car on this road. Red hills rise from the ground on either side, and the clouds held in suspension are just beginning to thin and disperse. There is a turn out along the side of the road where I pull aside and leave my car, noticing a makeshift trail that climbs one of the crimson mounds to a beautiful overlook. Patches of snow cover the ground, and my happy feet slosh step by step through it. As I reach the height of the mound, the sun declares itself with a bright, gleaming shine that illuminates blue skies and highlights the vibrant colors of the earth around me. Wispy clouds continue to flirt with some of the cliffs. Joyful tears fill my eyes, and I allow them to fall as I watch the scene unfold. So many moments on this trip (and many other trips, for that matter) have felt deeply special, leaving me in a speechless stupor. Moments such as this remind me, Tiana, look at how storms give way to beauty. Look at all that God has created and orchestrated. You can trust that He knows what He’s doing.
I descend and make my way back toward town, stopping a second time at many of the same overlooks I passed on the way in to take photos of a completely transformed riverscape. Open skies beam overhead, the waters of the Colorado glisten. Much of the snow that had previously accrued has already melted under the sun’s warmth. One area of rocky wall along the road contains petroglyphs that I stop to admire. A group of climbers is winding down after an epic day on what is called ‘Wall Street’, a nod to the scaleable, skyscraper-esque forms that enchant this highway. I take my time, unrushed, enjoying the vista through a new lens, and eventually find my way to a parking spot outside Moab Coffee Roasters, a local coffeehouse in the heart of town. Oat chai latte and chocolate truffles in hand, I walk about the town. I stop at a boutique known for showcasing local artists, called ‘Moab Made’, and lend my support. I then peruse the local bookstore, ‘Back of Beyond Books’, and make some selections before continuing my tour of the downtown area. Around 4:30 PM, I am back at the hotel and notice the sun will set soon. I get ready to go outside to the hot tub, which offers unobstructed views of the bluffs to the west. I soak, rest, refresh and watch as the day’s sunlight fades over the landscape. And for what feels like the millionth time today, I am thankful.
Later, I meet Bridget and Tori at a local Italian restaurant, Antica Forma, The Old Way. This eatery is known for its wood-fire brick oven Neapolitan pizza. I order a prosciutto pie with white sauce, and the others order incredible pastas. We delight in the good food, drink, and company, enjoy scrumptious desserts, and agree to keep in touch even after the two leave town tomorrow.
I get back to the hotel, turn on an episode on the Nature channel that teaches me about orcas (my favorite whale), and nod off, excited to find the sunrise in Arches National Park in the morning.
Captivated Me 