Haikutimes.com

Issue #-2 Dark Canyon, Utah, March 1984.

Journal excerpts by Jonathan Machen. (Additional journal excepts by Nick Brown, where noted.)

Drawings and photos by Jonathan Machen, Nick Brown and Michael Conti.




University of Colorado Campus before the drive to Utah, photo by Jonathan

March 24, 1984

I am sitting on sandstone, perched on a broad ledge, overlooking the junction of Kane Gulch and Grand Gulch in south central Utah, an open area that supports several large and gnarly cottonwood trees. Up in Kane Gulch, we saw pine trees. We are close to Bullet Canyon, where we started our Grand Gulch backpack last year, but this area looks more visited.



Drawing by Jonathan

We left Boulder Thursday evening - Joe (Rink), Nick (Brown) and I - speeding along in Nick’s white Volvo station wagon, surrounded by white landscapes. It snowed wet and slippery all day, so by the time we left Boulder, it felt treacherous to even try and leave. Not yet in Golden, we were stopped by a policeman who informed us that there had been a nasty pile-up, and it would take a bit to get it cleared up. I felt anxious: it was near 4pm, with snow coming down, and we had not even made it out of the mountains. We were allowed to proceed after about 20 minutes, and soon made it to Golden.

After Golden, we hit the interstate. From there on, it actually got better. By the time we got to Vail Pass, the roads were dry, and the stars were out.

From Nick's journal:
Before 3/25/84, Kane Gulch, Grand Gulch, and Arches National Park. Blue sky since leaving Colorado. Left in a snowstorm; another intense drive, last minute pack, rush, leave deal..now I sit by a stream, sandstone all around, ‘Burning down the House’ by the Talking Heads runs through my mind. I have burned my house temporarily and take refuge here, in this canyon. I am HERE.



Thompson, Utah, photo by Jonathan

(back to Jonathan's journal): I was much happier. We made good time from here to Glenwood Springs. I drove for about an hour, and felt okay until 20 or so miles outside the Utah/Colorado border. We pulled in at a town called Thompson and parked out of town by a pond at the base of eroded cliffs, and threw our bags on the ground.

I slept very poorly. The next day - the 23rd - we drove to Arches, and went for short hike before eating breakfast. Arches is a magnificent place, that is for certain! It was beautiful; the sky clear and blue, with sunshine making hard shadows on the edges of the sandstone.



Drawing by Jonathan

We drove onward to The Windows in Arches. Here we went for another hike, starting behind the windows themselves, with magnificent views of the Colorado River Gorge opening up to the southeast. I was sketching like mad the entire time. I’m not sure why drawing means so much to me - whether it is life-affirming, or just fun, or a way to say to myself that I exist on Earth, affirming all that lies before me. Perhaps by drawing, I will come to a realization of what underlies all that we externally see.



Arches, Photo by Jonathan

We piled back in the white Volvo and proceeded to travel to Moab. I bought cheese, replacing the block that I left in my refrigerator back in Farrand Hall. In Monticello, we stopped to ask a ranger about maps, road and trail information.

Since the Kane Gulch ranger station was closed, we went on to the Natural Bridges campsite. Before setting up camp, I went down to the edge of one of the canyons and sketched, and waited for sunset.



Nick Brown in Arches, photo by Jonathan

I think I have enough food! My pack is going to weigh a lot. I think the bagels are going to work out for dinners (plus cheese and salami, sardines, and some extra freeze-dried food). I have peanut butter, jelly, salsa and crackers, lots of gorp, oatmeal, and dried fruit for breakfast.

I finally sleep well last night, in my new bivouac sack. I stayed warm, too. I hope it works in a rainstorm.



Michael Conti and Jonathan, photo by Michael

Michael (Conti) and Elizabeth (Strauss) should get here tomorrow morning. We cannot go the way we originally planned, down Wooden Shoe Canyon, since the road is too snowy. We are going to try and take the road to Deer Flats , then go in Black Steer canyon to Dark Canyon - that is, if the road is not too muddy.



Elizabeth Strauss

The sky is all white now, with a closed-in, silent, lonely feeling, which will stay this way until the intensity of the snow hits. Then, afterwards, the sun may come out, the snow may melt, and the canyon will be a wonder to behold. The reward is simply existing, or living to write about and draw it!



Jonathan and Nicholas, Arches, selfie by Jonathan

March 25



Drawing by Jonathan

At the moment I am in my bivouac sack, under the open sky, with the stars above framed by the canyon walls. It is very good. Today was hectic, but it seemed to end well. Michael and Elizabeth showed up at our camp spot at Natural Bridges around 6pm, and I was pleased because that meant we were not going to have to wait around. Elizabeth seems very nice. I learned that she has never been backpacking before. It is good to introduce backpacking to people, so they may appreciate the wilderness.



Arches, photo by NIck Brown

We got started fairly early, driving towards Lake Powell. A ranger we talked to told us that the Deer Flats road would be impassable after a certain point. Therefore, we were to try a road further south, which would lead us to ‘Sunshine Canyon’ from where we could drop into Dark Canyon. We stopped at the visitor center to get water, and also stopped further down at Frey Canyon, to get gas for Michael’s car.



Arches, photo by Nick Brown

We had some difficulty finding the road. We finally decided on one that made a steep and rocky descent through an underpass, then emptied into the desert landscape. the Volvo bottomed out in all the washes. At a number of points we had to jump out and scrape dirt away from the car. Dry buttes under blue sky loomed to our right; the wind gusted around us, and we could see magnificent views of the La Sal range in the distance.



Arches, photo by Nick Brown

We kept winding over and around hillocks, listening to Led Zeppelin, until we decided we might be lost. I felt pretty hopeless at this point, imagining the diminishing gas in Nick’s car, but we pressed on.

Finally, we came to a junction that looked correct. The road began to get much better, and soon we passed a sign that said “Squaw Rock” which was the direction we wanted to go. Yeah! We finally pulled up at what looked like the trailhead, and decided to go for it.



Jonathan before the descent into Dark Canyon

Nick was very slow, and Michael and Elizabeth left early. We caught up after first hiking over a flat section full of junipers, then dropped down over white and luminous rocks, to where we could glimpse the depths of Dark Canyon. We passed a trail register (a good sign), and kept winding over and around boulders in the soft sand.



Joe Rink, photo by Jonathan

Soon we got to the rim, and had our first glimpse of the main canyon bottom. We could see water down there!

Eventually we made our way to the giant talus slope of Sunshine Canyon. There was a good enough trail to descend, marked with cairns; very steep, and choked with boulders. I estimate it took us around a full hour to work our way down. I began to get blisters on my toes. I thought my boots were broken in, but apparently they are not. Nicholas, Joe and I got to the bottom first and lounged about by the water, and I did a sketch before the rest arrived.



Joe, Jonathan and Nick before the descent into Dark Canyon

To Michael and Elizabeth’s dismay, we announced that we would like to go a little further before setting up camp. We did so and found a good spot, situated on a rise above the river, with magnificent views both up and down the canyon. I sketched again, this time of a cottonwood tree, composed in front of the V shape of the opposing canyon walls.



Drawing by Jonathan

Michael found an excellent spot down by the river for campfire, nestled between two huge boulders and a small cottonwood tree. I munched out heavily for dinner, and Michael fixed steaks for himself and Elizabeth. I would enjoy that kind of food if only my pack didn’t have to be so incredibly heavy. His pack weighs at least 10 pounds more than mine. It seems ridiculous to have to lug around such a huge pack on these funky primitive trails.



Reaching the lower part of Dark Canyon, photo by Nick

Everyone but me set up a tent, even though the sky was crystal clear blue. We looked at the silhouettes of the massive canyon walls as it got darker. Our roaring fire illuminated the canyon wall opposite our camp.

I did not sleep very well. I just lay in my bag for about 2 or 3 hours before taking two Actifeds. That helped me sleep. I don’t know what it is, why I have such a problem falling into deep sleep while camping. It’s only been happening recently. Maybe I’m just anxious about everything.



Nick hiking in Dark Canyon, photo by Michael

Finally, around 6am, I slept a little. I peeked out of the hole in my bivouac sac and noticed moisture-laden clouds sulking around the far corners of the canyon, as far as one could see. Michael came over to inform me that it was going to rain. I covered myself and other items nearby with my rain fly, for fear that my bivouac sack wouldn’t work - although I think it would - and lay still while the major bulk of the storm passed over, in about 20 minutes. We rose quickly and made breakfast, and set our wet things out to dry. It stayed grey and oppressive after the rain, and for the rest of the day, as well.



Photo by Nick

Finally we set off, plodding first along the river bank, picking our way through scattered stones, rocks and boulders, strewn tree trunks, and wet river sand. Looking upstream at the debris rom a particular angle, I could see evidence of flash floods, how nearly the entire river floor could be inundated when a flood rolled through. It must be a sight to behold, and I was glad we were hiking in what was still technically winter, when the higher elevations were still getting snowed upon.



Nick hiking along the bottom, photo by Jonathan

Soon, the appearance of the canyon changed. A shelf of grey limestone emerged, carved over the eons by water to make a mini ‘gorge’ through the canyon bottom, through which the water now passed. We walked on the edge of this small plateau, noticing tiny red fossils, evidence of earlier life. The water in this section cascades in small waterfalls and rivulets through the smooth, darkened rock.



Camp, photo by Michael Conti

We got way ahead of Michael and Elizabeth and stopped at a point where the passage along the shelf became difficult, so we sat and waited for them for about half an hour. They arrived, seemingly worn out, and not really psyched to go on. We had to thread our way across a narrow opening in the cliff, to pass the difficult section.

Michael went ahead at one point when Elizabeth was too tired, and after 20 minutes came back reporting that there were several excellent camp spots up canyon. Eventually, we found a really nice spot: an uplifted grassy area with several Cottonwood trees, protected by a somewhat questionable overhang. In any case, it was perfect, for it began to rain, and we all remained dry.

Michael brought out some potent pot, and we all smoked one hit. We suddenly noticed Nick was gone - he had taken off for a hike upstream - so we decided to try and find him, running in that direction. This was excellent! Stream bed running is fantastic. It demands complete focus, balancing your body in relationship to the ground. I no longer needed to think about placing my feet, they just ‘placed themselves’.



Drawing by Jonathan

After running for ten minutes or so, and unable to locate Nick, we stopped and hiked straight up a talus slope. It began to rain, but we found shelter under a rock. I had my sketchbook, and sketched a view of the stream bed and hills, looking downstream. We ran all the way back, too, finding Nick back at camp already.

We stayed up quite late, eating and talking. I slept better!



Drawing by Jonathan

From Nick's Journal: 3/25/84
A rock exploding in a bubbling stream breaking barriers of time
Turning a clear sound, smooth and gentle into an echo, razor sharp, forever..
Dark Canyon is wide, massive, and differs from Grand Gulch. Things have been manipulated, as I have changed, and wanted to set my thoughts in a more concrete form. So, the sequence begins at the ‘Hulk Hat’ and from there revolves, evolves, devolves, and rambles at will. Anyway, I’m glad it’s done, it seems to make more sense to me.



Drawing by Nick Brown

(Back to Jon's journal): March 27, 1984

Well, yesterday was interesting and fun, wild and crazy, scary, and satisfying.
We were up early, around 8, and finally set out a little after 10 when Michael was ready and finished with his breakfast. The four of us guys (Elizabeth didn’t come along) set out at a fast pace, covering lots of ground. We passed the spot where Michael and I had run the day before, and pressed on past a beautiful pool. We headed up canyon, keeping up the same pace, until we came to some side canyons with water rushing out of them. We passed a ‘walk on water’ spot, where the stream bed flattened out and a thin film of water spread out across the canyon floor. We also passed a number of waterfalls forming pools in the shape of bathtubs. The canyon narrowed, and the grey-limestone rock dominated the river bottom.



Photo by Michael

After coming to a fork in the canyon, we headed off to the south. We walked for another half hour, noting that the rocks in the stream were a florescent green, covered with a lacy sort of green algae. Snow, too, covered the stream bed for a stretch. It was, after all, still winter.



Photo by Jonathan

We came to another fork, where a large canyon appeared on the right. We decided to explore this way, but first we got out the mushrooms. I was hesitant to eat them, but finally convinced myself that it would be ok. They were quite clean, and looked to be of high quality. We choked them down, washing the bitter taste away with water, and then started up the canyon. We had to backtrack once and climb around some serious cliffs, but the way became easier after that.



Photo by Jonathan

Huge boulders choked the stream bed. The flash floods must be tremendous to move all that rock. We walked up for 20 minutes, then decided to go straight up the hillside. Michael went a different direction while Joe, Nicholas and I climbed to the highest spot possible, reaching a group of pine trees presiding over the terrain. From that height, the land looked exceedingly dry and wild. At this point, about an hour after we had eaten the mushrooms, I still felt fairly normal.



Michael hiking down the gully, photo by Jonathan

After walking around the ledge for a bit, I decided to head down to the dry creek bed and find Michael. I had an intense run down, bounding through the soft dirt. It was excellent. I found Michael, who was glad to see me. It seems he had been having some very hairy brainwaves. He told me he had been chanting on the edge of a rock for a long time.



Drawing by Jonathan

We began to go down, and rejoined Nicholas and Joe. After a few minutes of walking, the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and it began to snow heavily. We crept under a huge overhanging rock. At this point, I began to feel some psychedelic effects from the mushrooms. The sun came out, but it was still snowing. We all felt ecstatic in the presence of such dynamic weather. Michael pulled out his video camera, and started filming; I tried to sketch, but quickly gave up. Joe, interestingly, drank a beer, and Nick stayed quiet, but seemed happy.



Nick Brown, photo by Jonathan

We started our hike back to camp with the effects of the mushrooms (for me) reaching their peak. The formerly drab desert landscape became a dazzling host of radiating colors; the sun came out, creating delicious shadows, and I was aware of a deep beauty everywhere I looked. Michael filmed again; we all laughed, and then set off for camp.

The sky now changed to a perfect blue. I found walking to be an incredibly profound experience, feeling as if I had an endless supply of energy. My pace increased as I went along, and every rock in the river became a radiant jewel. By this time, I was far in the lead.



Photo by Jonathan

Desert canyon walking with no-one else around is simply amazing. I felt wonderful: elated, grateful, and profoundly in tune with the landscape and the weather. Finally, after half an hour or so, the sun came out, and the rest of the crew showed up.



Photo by Michael

I happily fell into steep with them, but I noticed Nicholas muttering something about flash floods. I didn’t get it, because there was no danger of flash floods, since it had been snowing. Then he started moaning my name and making other weird sounds. I suddenly got worried, because he looked sick, nauseous, and scared. He couldn’t tell me if he felt sick, or cold or hot, or anything, really. He did say he felt sleepy. I kept looking at him, and talking to him, trying to reassure him. Michael announced, with some authority: “He’s going back to the womb”.



Photo by Michael

I told Nick to walk slowly at my side, for we had a long way to go. As we went along, I kept asking him if he remembered the spots we had passed on the way up. I began to worry. Was this a permanent change, and would he ever be the same old Nicholas? I imagined having to explain this all to his parents, which quickly shifted my experience from one of elation to anxiety. He did seem to improve a little, and I could hear him softly singing about Donald Duck orange juice.



Nick Brown, photo by Jonathan

The canyon was simply gorgeous at this point, bathed in the remaining sunlight. We made it back to camp, and Nick appeared unchanged, up until the point when we made dinner. Thankfully, he seemed to be regaining his former self, interspersed with waves of mushroom-induced reality. He wandered about on the opposite side of the bank from camp, moving very slowly, clapping and singing. He got better and better as the night wore on, so I started to relax. Whew!



Photo by Nick Brown

We totally pigged out for dinner. Some of the others smoked weed, but I abstained. We had a perfectly hilarious time cooking. I fell asleep at 10, and suddenly woke up at 5:30 - wonderful! I stayed in bed until 9:30, and we just finished a leisurely breakfast in the sun. I will take it pretty slow today, hopefully sketching.



Photo by Jonathan

From Nick's journal, 3/28/84:

Hiked up Dark Canyon quite a distance the other day. Probably well past Young’s canyon. Jon, Joe, Michael and myself. The best thing about it is that we have it on film, photograph, and sketch. The memories are also with us.

Oh, the things I saw, the things that touched me, the things I touched. My senses taking more in than I thought was possible. Vision, hearing, smell, touch, and more. More than I thought was possible, by going back, back to the beginning, back to the womb, the center, devolving, going back to the primitive, being a child again. An infantile state, imaginative, scared, apprehensive, and expectant.



Photo by Jonathan

(from Nick, continued): The wall with Indian markings, clear as a bell, in a library, only I did not know which book of the many in the library I was to read, perhaps, it was just knowledge, general and not specific, an answer but not an aswer to the question, but an answer to many questions. That wall was radiating energy, giving an answer, an answer to a question that I was not sure if wanted to have answered. With hesitation I admit the answer that wall gave me, an answer that is humiliating, while at the same time beautiful. That wall tells me where I come from, where I’ve been, where I have the potential to go to.



Jon hiking up to the rim, photo by Nick

(from Nick, continued): Indian ways, knowledge about the earth, how it moves, what moves it.

Elephant talk, green chili, red Chile, ZZ Top, frogs, birdie, cement, rambling and babbling, meaningful, and deep unimportant and shallow, MANY THOUGHTS. Run-on sentences, paragraphs, and ideas, ideas that don’t end, ideas that cannot end, not a one point but a flow of ideas continuing along a long path that leads nowhere and leads everywhere.
Hold a spoon up to the canyon wall and looking into it, seeing yourself, as if for the first time, jumping off cliffs and sunshine, spring water and floodwater, and death, and life, an umbrella, another run-on sentence with many commas but no or very few periods!



Photo by Jonathan

March 28, 1994
(back to Jon's journal): The good weather of our previous day was so beautifully sunny and nice. Nicholas and I decided to go straight up from camp, to try and find a way out of the canyon, if possible. He seemed ‘back to normal’, thankfully. Michael and Elizabeth left upstream together for a day hike, and Joe went somewhere downstream. (He actually spent most of the day sleeping). So Nick and I went upstream perhaps one eighth of a mile and then turned left, up an enticing dry stream bed. We went slowly at first - I didn’t seem to have as much energy as the day before, as we worked our way up the dry gully. As we climbed up the multi-colored tiers, we paused every so often to glance back down into the canyon, to see how much elevation we had gained.



The route out, photo by Jonathan

The slope seemed to be nothing but loose chunks of rock, gravel and fine dirt, which slid every which way. I kept seeing deer tracks. Soon we reached the vertical cliffs of the canyon, and continued around the slope, at a right angle to the way we had come up. We kept gazing up expectantly at the corner, to what was around the corner, hoping there would be nice diagonal easy incline to climb to the top by.

Well, we circled all the way around until we came to an amphitheater. We began to head up the right side of this bowl, as it did look as if there was a way to go up and out. So we started up this, being careful in a few tricky spots. Eventually the gully we were going up was blocked by a tree, and right beyond this tree was a cliff. We sat on this cliff and contemplated our situation. We thought we should keep going in the direction we were headed, so after a first trying one dead end/massive cliff/ we went up . We soon realized that we could keep going up, but it might mean freaking out heavily on the downward trip - it seemed very scary. So we bagged that idea and set our sights for the other side of the bowl. We had to cross the bowl and wander towards the other side, where three different diagonal routes looked possible.



Nick Brown, climbing out, photo by Jonathan

We started up one, and after fumbling about for awhile, realized we could make it to one level, then traverse left, and possibly continue on up the pleasant gully. Nick led up the gully - easy climbing. With one spot that was pretty scary. I had to heave a massive boulder off one small ledge in order to make room for us to get up. Finally - at this point we had ‘rim fever’. We could see a clear path to the top, and we jammed. Once up on the rim, we released several potent screams, and clamored on upward to where we could get a better view of the visible world.



On the Rim, photo by Nick

Sprawling out on the white rock, in full sunshine, 1,500 feet higher than our camp and with intense scenery all around, we felt excellent. We had lunch, and I did a small sketch. We snapped a bunch of photos as well.

By 4:00, we decided it was about time to be heading down - so, cautiously and slowly, we began the long descent. Mostly, it was ok except for one spot where we freaked out. Eventually we got back to the amphitheater and wound around it, all the way to the far side, then continued around the shelf and downward, making our way towards the gully. Once we reached the gully, I felt excellent, my legs felt excellent, and it was extremely reassuring to know that both Nick and I did all that without even falling or slipping once. It is good to be in tune. We smoked half a joint before we made the final run down the ledges. This was great, as there are about 6 different rock colors and layers, all intermingling and appearing at different points in the ravine. We got down to the stream, and ran all the way back to camp.



View from the rim towards the La Sals, photo by Nick

March 29, 1984

Yesterday we had another leisurely breakfast in the sun, on the opposite bank from camp, where it was sunny. Michael, Joe, Nick and I went to investigate a crack just opposite from our camp, some ways up. Michael, although somewhat unsure, climbed it. The rest of us went around. We ran down some ravine, and threw ourselves in the river. It was nice being nude, exhilarated and drying off in the sun, helped out by the subtle, and at times blustering, winds. We slowly made our way back to camp, where we prepared to pack up. Michael and Elizabeth left a little before us, because they were slower. We saw the first people of the trip at this point, a worried looking gentleman and his flustered wife who cruised past our camp.



Elizabeth and Michael negotiating cliffs, photo by Jonathan

Saying goodbye to our now very familiar surroundings, we followed the river at first. Nicholas and I kept stopping to look at the marvelously deep, pristine pools. We had to negotiate some cliffs, climbing a rather intense wall with our packs on, to get up to a ledge where we could walk. Rounding one bend, we noticed Michael and Elizabeth on the opposite bank. Elizabeth was in the process of letting down her pack to Michael from a tricky ledge. Apparently they had been walking through the water, trying to find a suitable way to hike out. We watched them as they performed these maneuvers. The transition between the last level to the river seemed the most difficult, and Elizabeth was especially opposed to climbing down, but she did eventually make it.



Elizabeth and Michael negotiating cliffs, photo by Jonathan

I found a good lunch spot at a series of two pools, and sketched. Michael found a flattened blue-green lizard and gave it to me, and I carried it for awhile in my hat, until I started noticing a fish-like smell. We hiked to our first night’s campsite, and decided to stay there for one more evening.



Lower reaches of Dark Canyon, photo by Jonathan

The sky had turned grey and morose. We prepared our meals - Michael had spaghetti which he shared with all; Joe prepared a chicken and ramen stew, and I made my freeze-dried chicken stew. Nick was sort of low on food. All he had to contribute was a can of clams. We were all especially hungry, and after finishing everything would have eaten more, had not the wind decided to pick up. It really got ferocious, throwing around the flames in the fire and creating a crazy sort of atmosphere. My lizard disappeared in the wind. I slept in the bivvy sack, not wanting to share the tent with Nick and Joe.



Drawing by Nick

From Nick: 3/30/24
Our last day in Dark Canyon, we have been here for six days, it seems like much less. The day before Michael, Jonathan, Joe and I tried to climb a chimney onto the first level above the stream. Michael was the only one to make it and afterwards he commented on how foolish he was for trying some of the difficult moves that were necessary in the climb. I hesitated well before the most difficult moves, it’s good to take some risks, yet, life is precious.



Drawing by Jonathan

(Journal excerpt by Nick, continued): Two days ago Jonathan and I climbed out of the canyon, up to the rim, on a series of small ledges, cracks, and assorted difficult and exposed moves, less intense than the chimney, we experienced a terrific sense of accomplishment, getting up and seeing a larger horizon than canyon walls; I imagine that today when we climb out of Dark Canyon for good the sense of being on top again, up in the real world, that, is, the ‘real’ world of people, machines, and the like will be even more crushing.



Photo by Jonathan

(From Nick, continued): Then getting back to everyday life, the routine of friends, roommates, school, job, etc. will sink in again. Down here, in this canyon, we take life one day at a time, no schedules, unstructured, up there we plan around our schedules, here we schedule things around our plans. Day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, we have time here to think, reflecting on our situation. It is so much harder to do up there, think about one’s situation, make it work. Here it is easy.



Photo by Jonathan

(from Nick, continued): Jon found a lizard which was flat as a pancake, owning to vibram soles. Joe learned how to cook top ramen and potatoes. Elizabeth is learning about backpacking, it was her first time. Michael’s pack is lighter and he’s got the canyon on film. I have learned of my beginning, evolution, and my possibilities, I can go as far as I want, I am confident.



Drawings by Michael

March 30, 1984 - hiking out.

(back to Jon's Journal): We packed up quickly. Michael and Elizabeth left first. Elizabeth was quite worried about the upward journey, fearing she would not be able to climb up the last steep talus slope. Nick and I lounged around camp a bit - he finished a book by Albert Camus called “The happy Death”, and I wrote.

We threaded our way up towards the talus slope as the sky became grayer and more languid. It only took me half an hour to get up the slope, getting to the rim just as Michael, Elizabeth and Joe arrived. After trudging through the red dirt and trying to avoid wrecking the cryptogrammic soil, we took a last look into the canyon, grasping the veil of solitude which permeated the whole area. This signified the end of the trip to me, as we could look both backwards and forwards and reflect on the passage of time, how the vacation was really almost over. However, I think the experience will last forever in my eyes, as long as I can still draw in the outdoors. that seems especially important to me right now.



Dark Canyon, lithograph by Michael

We finally popped out at the cars. It was snowing, but very lightly. We drove out on a road that was a tenfold improvement over the first road we tried to drive in on. We could see lake Powell as we reached the main road. From here it was on to Fry Canyon, where we got enough gas to make it to Blanding. I drove all the way from here to Moab.



Dark Canyon, lithograph by Michael

We met Michael and Elizabeth at Arches campground. We had a confused but filling meal, and I slept more or less ok. It rained pretty heavily. in the morning. Before eating anything, I jogged/walked over to the Devils Garden trailhead. From there, I jogged all the way to Landscape Arch. Shrouded in mist, it was still there, saying hello. I ran back. It felt good.



Delicate Arch, photo by Nick

I packed my pack in Michael’s car and rode with him and Elizabeth. Nick and Joe headed to Aspen to ski. We stopped at the Delicate Arch trailhead and had a very merry jaunt to Delicate Arch - I had never been there before. It was beautiful! The sky was full of all kinds of funky clouds, and the sandstone around the arch itself looked like a cosmic whirlpool in arrested motion.
From here, it was driving. We drove straight to Boulder - the conditions were fine. No ice or snow.



Delicate Arch, drawing by Jonathan

Last journal entry by Nick, 4/8/84
Jon carrying the lizard. The central link of the trip. Wind, sparks, and flying lizards.
Elizabeth was most spiritual. Asking for astrological signs when we first met. Nice watercolors. Planning on an African Safari. Wore a painted safari hat I had seen before.
Michael caught the canyon on film. Life is a game. Bacon and eggs every morning.



Drawing by Michael

Poem by Nick

High above me
Clouds and rock
Far below me
Time ticks and tocks
You and your god
NO.
Far below me
Gods above.
What I think
Hangs high above
Far below me
Your values sink
Your god shrinks.
No God, Just Rocks.