Delicate Arch Hike (Utah)

We made a family trip to Utah in May, and since my friend Elaine has said she'd like to go to the iconic Delicate Arch in Arches National Park (my new favorite), I thought I'd provide a travel guide.

 

As you can see from the map, it's possible to hike a short trail and see the arch from a distance:

That was not my idea, however ~ and my daughter has come close to disowning me for following through on hiking the trail right up to the arch.

 

We reached the trail about 5:30, hoping to see the sunrise hit the red rock at a little after 6:00 am.  When it became apparent that I could not make the hike in half an hour, I urged my husband and daughter on, figuring I'd walk at my own pace.  Even my own pace was strenuous.  As I considered my imminent heart attack, I looked at the view behind me and hoped that someone would remember to say at my funeral that I died livin' the dream:

 

 

I did not mind my many pauses at all:

 

 

Most of the second half of the hike up covers a huge rock face, of which this is a small part (looking back down):

 

 

The only markers at that point are a series of cairns, which might explain why, when I finally reached the arch, or as close as I was going to get, there was no sign of husband or daughter.  Frantic at the thought of what might have happened to them ~ this hike has its scary moments ~ I was imagining having to hike down an hour and call the Park Service to mount a search and rescue effort.  I finally found someone who had seen them, and said they had given up and turned back.

 

It seems that they went the wrong way and came upon Delicate Arch on the other side of the bowl on which it sits, and discovered themselves looking down a sheer cliff.  They couldn't imagine that I had continued hiking, so they headed down the rock, not knowing that by veering to the left they would have been able to reach a narrow trail and a fairly wide cliff on which to walk and sit.  That's where I was, and here's what I saw at about 6:30 am:

 

 

And, looking the other way:

 

 

Was it worth it?  I'd say it was the highlight of my year so far.  But I think that if I want to go back someday, I'm on my own!

 

 

Gratitude for Bones

A friend of mine is looking at knee replacement surgery sometime in the next year. She is predictably wary and anxious, but she wrote a FB post about all the things that her knees have done for her.  I've decided to take a page from her book, as I finally reach the point of more-or-less full recovery from my broken ankle, and say "Pffft!" to the toe I broke 10 days ago.

 

Some of what my ankle and feet bones have done for me:

 

Carried me and my backpack into the wilds of Glacier National Park and Algonquin Provincial Park, throughout Isle Royale National Park, and along the trails of western Pennsylvania.

 

Taken me on beach walks and long hikes from Prince Edward Island to Key West and from British Columbia to the Virginia Shore.

 

Helped me wander Iona and the Cinque Terre, Paris and Rome, Boston and Chicago and Washington, D.C. and Vancouver and Portland, Chautauqua and St. Augustine.

 

Pedaled bikes and hung onto horses and skied through the snow and danced through numerous dubious concert venues.

 

Walked babies at 3:00 a.m. and accompanied clients to court and ran after troubled students and paced through sermons and retreats.

 

And for years and years, excluding most of this one, taken me on the long walks so essential to my physical and mental and spiritual health, around the Shaker Lakes in Cleveland and to the Highland Park Reservoir in Pittsburgh and alongside the fields at the Wernersville Retreat Center.

 

It turns that that that break on January 2 was a really bad one.  But you can see why I have been so determined to make my plate and screws work like real bones.  I can't run yet ~ I've tried and it's as if I have a stack of bricks in my ankle ~ but I am really grateful for bones and spare parts that walk.

Week 8 Begins

It's hard to believe, but that swollen mess on the left, which barely moves in the outer direction, is on the verge of walking. 

I so miss my walks!  I suspect that progress back to three miles a day will be very slow, and I don't know when I will feel confident on hiking trails again, especially out by myself.  But, someday . . .

 

I would not want to have to give up hiking the North Carolina mountains!

 

Walk in a Relaxed Manner

I am in the midst of reading Joyce Rupp's book by the same title as that of this post for a book group. I am a big fan of Joyce Rupp's prayer and retreat writings and have used them in several contexts.  I can't honestly claim the same enthusiasm for her narrative approach to her Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, the subject of this book.  But I love the title - words of advice offered her by a fellow pilgrim; I am often drawn into pilgrimage language by Ignatius of Loyola, who often described himself as a pilgrim; and I am in need of a metaphor for my next venture: new (to me) Small City Church, newly re-unified life in all dimensions, new long-term commitment. I think that "walk in a relaxed manner" will do well.

Les Oiseaux

It's been a beautiful week for walking, my foot is healed, and I am much in need of solitude these days. 

 

This morning a loon floated serenely on Horseshoe Lake and a bald eagle stood guard over Lower Lake.  We're about four miles from downtown Cleveland here.

 

Pretty good morning, I'd say.


 

Small Things - 2

At the labyrinth at University Hospitals in Cleveland; the labyrinth itself is pictured below, with Church of the Covenant (PCUSA) in the background.

Marsh in Ashland OH.

 

My neighborhood walking route at home.

 

John Carroll University Labyrinth.