Arches National Park and Moab, Utah

For better or worse, Arches National Park and the nearby resort town of Moab have been discovered. Once a dull and dusty uranium mining town, Moab abruptly evolved into a recreational mecca of world-wide acclaim. A small, bustling community of 5,000 in the shadow of the La Sal Mountains near the Colorado River, it has become a minor cultural and artistic hub teeming with the young and athletic, and the old and lazy, all determined to have a rousing, and occasionally sweaty, good time.

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The land is beauty unparalleled on planet earth, if you like rocks. Surrounded by two large national parks, mile after mile of high-desert, wild country, towering walls of freestanding, red sandstone monoliths, and myriads of meandering canyons cut into the open sage lands, Moab and this unique corner of southeast Utah will make you grateful you’re still alive and breathing. And what makes this place so special is Arches National Park. Encompassing 76,000 acres and located a mere five miles north of Moab, it is one of North America’s finest crown jewels. The park hosts one of the world’s largest concentrations of natural arches (over 2,000), most of which were carved by wind and rain out of Entrada Sandstone over countless eons. Some arches are thick, hulking masses like those found in the Window’s section. Others are thin ribbons, such as Landscape Arch that defies gravity and spans 300 feet from base to base. Certain arches have achieved iconic status like the incomparable Delicate Arch perched on the edge of a cliff with splendid views of the snowcapped La Sal Mountains. If you’ve seen a Utah license plate you’ve probably seen Delicate Arch, a freestanding towering hoop reminiscent of a cowboy’s leather chaps. It also played a starring role in the first Hulk movie (2003) where the short-tempered, green monster with the bad haircut runs barefoot around its base and gallops for his life throughout the park in soaring leaps and bounds with the Department of Defense in hot pursuit launching the mother and father of all attacks that reduces the Fiery Furnace and other landmarks to piles of rubble, digitally speaking. Holes in the rocks aren’t the park’s only attraction. As you drive past the visitors center and begin the steep climb you’ll be mesmerized by an unfolding world of spires, pillars, buttes and balanced rocks … row upon row of narrow fins, and massive towering blocks and black-streaked sandstone walls and petrified sand dunes. This country is surreal, amazing, and has inspired many an artist, photographer, and writer, none more famous than the late Edward Abbey. Tall, soft-spoken with a gentle handshake and a warm smile, bearded Ed Abbey was a park ranger at Arches back in the late 50s, before the onslaught of today’s never-ceasing crowds. Abbey was one of the arid West’s great authors of fiction and nonfiction. Long since buried in his old blue sleeping bag somewhere out in the Arizona desert by his close friends, supposedly in the Cabeza Pietra desert of Pima County where he will never be found, old Cactus Ed championed the vanishing Southwest with an eloquence, insight, passion, and brutally sharp wit unmatched to this day. He penned the timeless masterpiece “Desert Solitaire,” essential and highly recommended reading for all lovers of the American desert, redneck motor-heads included. West of the Colorado border and 30 miles south of Interstate 70, clean and pretty Moab is boxed in by a long red wall of 900 foot cliffs on one side, and the beautiful La Sal Mountains on the other. Though situated in the high desert of the Colorado Plateau where summers are blistering hot (and winters bone-chilling cold), tall cottonwood trees and well-manicured lawns transform the narrow valley into a green and shady oasis of sorts. Considering the stunning scenery and recreational opportunities, it’s no wonder tourism flourishes in Moab, even during these hard economic times. Unlike the early days - when clouds of radioactive dust particles from the uranium tailings pile north of town hung in the air on windy days - accommodations are now plentiful. Take your pick from over 20 hotels and motels, not to mention the many guest houses, cabins, ranches, lodges and B&Bs. You’ll find a dozen river rafting operations, a half-dozen 4X4 off-road ATV and Jeep rental businesses, fifteen tour guide companies, enough mountain bike shops to make your head spin, hot-air balloon rides, skydiving, galleries, restaurants, fast-food joints, a public library voted the best for its size in the entire country; they have music festivals, marathons, bike races, moonlight walks at Dead Horse Point, Jeep Jamborees, photo workshops … it’s that kind of place. And if there is such a thing as a mountain bike capital of the world, this is probably it. The gritty sandstone and slickrock and hundreds of miles of dirt roads and bike trails that course over the countryside provide the perfect environment for the enthusiast, novice and pro. If you’ve never tried mountain bike riding, don’t knock it. It’s one of the great thrills in life now that you’ve got 18 gears to do most of the work. And it’s a great way to enjoy the day, unless you get stuck in some ankle-deep sandy wash and spend the afternoon shoving your rig home, or you’re fixing flats in the broiling sun, or you’re too stoned on your medical marijuana (shouldn’t you be in bed?) out there on the demanding and potentially dangerous but famous Slick Rock Trail and you steer left when you should have veered right and like a shot you plummet two hundred feet over the edge and fall, quite sober by now, twisting and turning and screaming for mommy, and land with a messy ‘thump’ down there on the pretty red rocks never to be seen again in one piece, and all this because you didn’t have the common sense to slow down and pay attention like you were warned, repeatedly, because it’s dangerous out there. Other than that, and maybe getting lost in the middle of nowhere out of cell phone range with no water and not a clue as to your whereabouts and no map or food or matches, or forgetting to wear your helmet and slamming into a juniper tree at thirty miles an hour or sailing over your handlebars and landing wide-eyed and face-first in a pile of prickly cactus, … those little mishaps aside, you know, mountain bike riding is a blast! Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not just environmental zealots that pour into town three seasons out of the year. Four-wheel driving, those off-road vehicles and motorcycles and modified Utility Terrain Vehicles, and souped-up Jeeps, all the big noise makers, they are absolutely everywhere they’re allowed. They form large caravans on Main Street and roar off in convoys into canyons and rumble out over the benches and mesas. The Easter Jeep Safari is the granddaddy of safaris around these parts. Day-long trail rides run throughout the week and roar down nine different trails each day. So if you’re a mountain biker, or yearn for a quiet stroll down Main Street, beware of “Big Saturday” when 30 groups line up and head out on 30 different (cough, cough) dusty trails. Speaking of dust, in all fairness someone has to mention the elephant in the room, and it might as well be me. Just north of town on the banks of the Colorado River are 16 million tons of radioactive uranium tailings. You can’t miss it. The U.S. Department of Energy is in the process of shipping the tailings by train thirty miles distant for reburial. To give you an idea of the scope of the project, it’s taking ten years to complete at a projected cost of hundreds of millions of dollars. No matter how the government spins this one, the 130-acre site is highly contaminated and a health risk, I don’t care how much water they squirt on the pile. That’s why they’re moving it. It is particularly unnerving on those very windy days when dust plumes in and around Moab color the sky a delightful reddish-brown. But don’t let the risk of lung cancer spoil your vacation - pick your times, watch the weather, and hold your breath as you race by on your way to a red rock wonderland, extraordinaire!