From Arches to Goblins to Canyonlands: Utah

(Please note: Photo captions can be viewed by clicking on each individual photo!)

After my first three weeks on the road, I’d managed to see and visit with a total of almost 30 people. As wonderful as it had been to spend time with so many good friends and family, I was now looking forward to a much quieter second half of my trip as I headed west to wander deserts, mountains, and forests and be alone with my thoughts. Leaving Memphis on a Sunday morning, I had two rather long days of driving ahead of me to get out west where I planned to focus my time. The first day I drove to Oklahoma City, and the next day to Albuquerque, New Mexico, each about a 550-mile journey.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with diabetes, and while I’ve managed to control it fairly well with medication, it constantly weighs on my mind. It is a cruel disease for a person who loves food as much as I do. I actually seem to worry about my sugar levels more than my doctor does, so that should be some comfort, but still, I find myself torn between wanting that slice of pizza or rhubarb pie and worrying that my sugar levels will climb into the stratosphere. So, I have an uneasy truce with myself; I refuse to deprive myself of the things I love, but I really try to partake in moderation and do a lot of walking and eat a diet rich in protein and fiber to balance things out.

Against that backdrop, I found myself passing through Oklahoma City, where one of the main highlights for me has always been a stop at Arbuckle Mountain Fried Pies. Fried pies can only be found in western Arkansas and Oklahoma and resemble the old Hostess Fruit Pies that I had as a child, but they’re typically served warmed, the crusts are crispy, and they come in a variety of fruit flavors. I decided that after having a protein-laden breakfast of eggs and sausage at the hotel, I could treat myself to a fried pie before I headed west. At Arbuckle’s, when I ordered an apricot pie, the temptress managing the counter of the shop seemed surprised and asked, “Only one?” Perhaps she remembered me from past visits when I left with a shopping bag containing one each of the peach, rhubarb, cherry, and apricot pies. I explained that I’d like to grab a pie of every flavor, but because of my diabetes, I was trying to control myself. She grabbed my arm and said, “Well, Hon, I can make you some sugar free pies if you can wait just a few minutes!” Sweeter words – pun intended – have seldom been spoken. I went with a cherry and an apricot, and though I’m sure the fried pastry is not exactly conducive to a healthy A1C level, I took comfort in knowing that the filling didn’t have all that extra sugar. And need I tell you, both of the sugar free pies were delicious!

I ran into a similar dilemma as I crossed the border into the “Land of Enchantment” – New Mexico. To me, New Mexico is the “Land of Stuffed Sopapillas.” Sopapillas are a fluffy, fried dough served in some Mexican restaurants as a dessert with powdered sugar and honey. However, in New Mexican cuisine, stuffed sopapillas are served in many places as a main dish, filled with a variety of ingredients not unlike what you’d find in a burrito. I adore stuffed sopapillas. And so, my first stop after crossing the border was Del’s, an old-timey restaurant along the old Route 66 in Tucumcari that has been around since the 1950s. Yes, stuffed sopapillas were on the menu and I did partake; they were good, but not up to the standard of another place I know closer to Albuquerque. At any rate, a “not bad” sopa is better than no sopa at all, so all was well.

In the morning I was reminded of yet another local culinary treasure unique to New Mexico when I had breakfast at the Range Café in Albuquerque: blue corn and pinon pancakes! Blue corn is a staple in New Mexican cuisine, and to my relief, I’ve read that it has more protein and a lower glycemic index than regular corn. That’s all I needed to here, and since this was the only day I was spending in New Mexico, I ordered them. They were exceptional and were adorned with fresh blueberries and pine nuts.

I spent a few hours wandering around Albuquerque and made a stop at the mysterious shrine at Chimayo, north of Santa Fe, a pilgrimage site where people believe the dirt has healing properties and is either eaten or rubbed on the skin. I’m not sure I place much confidence in eating mud or soil from anywhere, but perhaps I should have had a sopapilla stuffed with Chimayo dirt just in case. At any rate, I passed on that idea and did treat myself to a wonderful pork sopapilla at my old stand-by, Abuelita’s in Bernalillo.

By evening I’d crossed into Colorado and spent the night at Pagosa Springs, home to an amazing natural hot spring that has been harnessed to create a spa with a couple dozen hot tubs of varying temperatures lining the cliffs above the San Juan River in the middle of the town. It was a quiet weeknight, and there were very few people, so I was able to spend long periods of time soaking in hot tubs I had all to myself and getting my neck and shoulders massaged by the hot waterfall that spills into the Serenity Pool. After a few days of long hours spent in the car, this was the perfect reward.

The next day I drove through towns like Durango and Cortez and soon saw the familiar shape of Sleeping Ute Mountain, letting me know I was about to enter Utah. In Native American lore, the sleeping Ute is a warrior who has laid down to rest after a long battle, and the mountain does resemble a full length, reclining figure. When people ask me what my favorite state is in the U.S., Hawaii immediately comes to mind, but they are often surprised when I name Utah as my second favorite. If Utah had an ocean, and the Great Salt Lake just doesn’t count, I could live there. When I think of Utah, I picture silent, majestic, other-worldly red rock formations, snow-capped mountains, canyons lined with impossibly green cottonwood, aspen, and juniper trees, cobalt blue daytime skies and jet-black, star-filled night skies. The state’s motto is “Life Elevated” and to me, that suits it perfectly. I was happy to be back again.

I had to make some difficult choices on this trip; I adore southwestern Utah, home to Bryce and Zion National Parks, and lesser know wonders like Valley of the Gods, the Coral Pink Sand Dunes, Mexican Hat, and the Goosenecks of the San Juan River. But I’ve visited these places many times, so I decided that this time I’d focus on the eastern part of the state, Arches, Canyonlands, and Capitol Reef National Parks and Goblin Valley State Park. I made the bustling town of Moab, which sits a stone’s throw from the entrance to Arches National Park, my base for the first three days. I stayed at the Aarchway Inn, and no, the double-A in its name is not a typo. I was pleasantly surprised to find a quiet, laid back hotel just outside of town with a delightfully heated pool and a very spacious room.

One of the challenges facing many of our national parks is the ever-increasing popularity of these treasures, forcing many parks to limit the number of visitors that can enter on a given day or forbidding anyone to drive their own vehicle during busy times of the year. Arches is one of those parks, and I found that even this early in the season, one must make an online reservation to enter the park between 9AM and 4PM. Thankfully, once I got settled in Moab it was already after 4:00, so I was able to enter the park with no reservation and no delays. It was a good time of day to visit, as the crowds had thinned out and the late afternoon and early evening light made my photographs much more interesting. I did several miles of hiking to Skyline Arch, up to the Delicate Arch Viewpoint, and watched the sun set from the area surrounding Turret Arch and the North and South Windows. It was a beautiful evening.

Back in Moab there is an entire block devoted to various food trucks and the stand out is Quesadilla Mobilla, where I dined on the Southern Belle: shredded beef cooked with mild red chiles and spices, sauteed onions, roasted sweet potatoes, corn, and cheddar-jack cheese folded into a deliciously grilled tortilla. Good lord, it was amazing! I wish they’d branch out and start a Sopapilla Mobilla; I’d camp out in front of the place every day! I also got some of the best gelato this side of Italy at the Miss Gelato food truck, though I think they should change their name to Signora Gelato to be more authentic!

The next day I drove about 120 miles from Moab to visit Goblin Valley State Park. The valley is filled with hundreds of strangely shaped “goblin” formations that almost defy description, so I’ll rely more on my photos to illustrate them. This place made me feel like an 8-year old boy again; I imagined myself as Will Robinson from Lost in Space, wandering with the Robot and Dr. Smith across some alien planet’s landscape. As I hiked around the valley, I saw a number of huge footprints that looked to my untrained eye like they had been made by a very large cat. ”Danger, Will Robinson, danger!” Despite the fact that the guide to the park does not list mountain lions or bobcats as among the species that inhabit the area, I still thought it best to limit my exploration to areas that were out in the open and away from cave-like openings!

On my third day in the area I decided to explore Canyonlands National Park. Due to its remoteness and strange configuration – it is divided into three separate sections that cannot be accessed from one another – I had never been here before. I visited the Island in the Sky section of the park, closest to Moab and was initially put off by the swarms of people flocking around Mesa Arch, one of the park’s most famous sites. I’d been told that dozens of photographers jockey for position at the arch at sunrise to catch the sun as it lights up the inside of the arch, but was hoping they’d all moved on by the time I got there. Unfortunately, I found a line of people all waiting for their chance to run up and pose for a photo in front of the arch and it was several minutes before I was able to quickly snap a photo of the darned thing without a dozen people posing in front of it making thumbs up or peace signs for their selfies.

I did enjoy other, quieter corners of the park and the far-off views of the canyons formed by the Colorado and Green Rivers at the south end of the park were impressive. For sunset I’d considered going to nearby Dead Horse Point State Park, but the $20 entrance fee, even at 7:00 PM, and the line of cars all heading there made me decide against that. Instead, I found a dirt road and decided to explore. After maybe ten minutes, the road curved around and in front of me was the most amazing landscape I could imagine. Bizarre sandstone columns and red rock cliffs stretched out for thirty miles, with a backdrop of the snow-capped La Sal Mountains. The sun was setting, creating beautiful colors and shadows. It was the perfect place to watch sunset, and I had it all to myself… well, except for a few stray cattle who looked at me like I’d just landed from Mars!

I realized that the road I’d been driving on was actually a short cut that could take me back into Moab if I continued on it, but after another mile or so, it became a very narrow, rutted passage between cliff walls, and a boulder three or four times larger than my car had fallen beside the road, creating a very narrow passageway. I decided I didn’t want to risk destroying my car trying to pass through, so I turned around and went back via the long way!

I was sad to leave Moab the next morning, but it was time to move on. I headed south and drove the 35-mile long, dead-end road that leads to Canyonlands National Park’s Needles District. The drive out there was really beautiful, punctuated by red rock cliffs, peaceful lakes, farms, and fields of grazing horses and cattle. I made a stop at Newspaper Rock, a series of petroglyphs, some of which date back 2,000 years. There were a lot of images that looked like goats, buffalo, and men on horseback, but some of them sure do look like robots or space aliens! “Danger, Will Robinson!”

Once I actually arrived at the Needles area I was a bit disappointed, as it was impossible to really get anywhere close to the formations the park is named for without a lengthy hike. It was a very hot day and I really didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so I moved on, satisfied that I’d at least been there and sort of seen that. I headed from Blanding to Hanksville along one of my favorite routes, State Highway 95, which winds its way through amazing red rock country and skirts the Colorado River and Lake Powell. I’d plugged the address of that night’s hotel in Torrey, Utah into my GPS and had to laugh when I saw the “directions” displayed on the screen:  Proceed 151 miles and turn right.  I hoped I could manage such complex instructions!

I stayed at the Capitol Reef Resort in Torrey, a town I love and have visited many times before. The weather up this way was very different from Moab: cold, gray, and extremely windy. I was almost blown across the road to have dinner at the Rim Rock Restaurant and was treated to a delicious meal of turkey in a Mexican mole sauce, baked squash, and some awesome baked beans. I also braved the wind and some rain to soak in the hotel’s heated pool, though getting out of the water and drying off was not quite as pleasant.

The next day I drove the ten miles or so into Capitol Reef National Park and got myself one of the scrumptious fruit pies they sell at the Gifford Homestead Gift Shop. I’ve been enjoying them for probably fifteen or twenty years of passing through this area, and they never disappoint. I just wish they were sugar-free like the fried pies at Arbuckle’s in Oklahoma! Armed with my pie “provisions” I then made a 100-mile long loop on what is one of my favorite drives in all of Utah. The route goes from Capitol Reef south on Notom Road, then west along the Burr Trail, a series of unpaved switchbacks that lead into beautiful red rock canyons and eventually to the hamlet of Boulder, Utah. From Boulder you go north on Route 12, up and over 9,000 foot Boulder Mountain and back into Torrey.

This route is all pretty desolate, much of it is unpaved, and I just love the solitude and ever-changing scenery. At one point along Burr Trail, if one knows where to look for it, there is a pull-off where you can park and enter a shallow slot canyon, almost obscured from the road by beautiful trees. It’s called Singing Canyon, because there is an echo when you stand inside it, and it has always seemed like a truly magical place to me. I’m usually the only person there and it’s always felt like my own private hideaway.

As I approached the parking area, I was dismayed to see about a dozen cars and pick-up trucks parked there. “It’s been discovered!” I sighed. The occupants of the cars were all milling around on the road, so I took the opportunity to go into the canyon for a few minutes and had it all to myself. Eventually a couple joined me and we chatted a bit and I learned that the crowd out on the road was there to attend a wedding ceremony to be held in the canyon later that day. This put my mind at ease; if a crowd was gathered in this special place, what better occasion for them to be celebrating than a wedding?

I stopped in Boulder at the Burr Trail Grill, salivating in anticipation of a lamb burger that I’ve ordered in the past. It was crowded but finally only one person was ahead of me in line to order. I overheard him say he was debating between the crispy chicken or the lamb burger, and I butted-in and assured him that the lamb burger was amazing!  He ordered it and went to his table, and I smiled happily at the waitress as I ordered a lamb burger for myself.

“That guy just got the last one,” she said.

I searched her face for any sign of humor. There was none. Surely, she HAD to be kidding me; I couldn’t believe it! Why had I opened my big mouth?  The waitress could tell I was beyond disappointed. She told me to hang on, checked with someone in the kitchen, and said she might be able to come up with one more lamb burger, but that it might be a bit of a wait. That was fine by me, but as I sat at my table awaiting my meal, I wondered whether they’d found a pound of ground lamb in the freezer or whether they’d gone out back to butcher one. Eventually my lamb burger arrived, and it was delicious and worth the wait!

While everything was toasty and warm along Burr Trail and in Boulder, as I ascended Boulder Mountain, Spring turned back into Winter. Stands of leafless birch trees lined the road, and the sky turned dark. And then the heavens opened and spewed little balls of hail – I think this particular version of hail is called “graupel” and it looked like little balls of Styrofoam. It covered everything, turning the roadway momentarily white.

There was an icy rain back at the hotel in Torrey, but I again braved the pool for a bit. It was a very cold and stormy night, but in the morning the sun was out, the fruit trees in front of the hotel were bursting with blossoms, the sky was blue, and the surrounding red rock cliffs were covered in snow.

And so, my time in Utah was pretty much done. With a heavy heart, I headed north on out-of-the-way back roads, avoiding the Interstates, bound for Salt Lake City, where my car had an appointment for a much-needed oil change and tire rotation. I’d been following weather reports about “severe winter storms” raging across Wyoming and Idaho… directly along my route to Yellowstone. I began to worry that I might not even be able to get over some of the mountain passes that separated me from Jackson, Wyoming, but that was still a couple of days off and I hoped that by then the roads would be passable.

I’ll talk about the trip to Yellowstone and what I found once I got there in the next installment. Meanwhile, thanks for reading!