In The Land of Navajo & Arches National Park

In the 80s, this Indian saying hung in every other teenager’s room: “Only when the last tree is cut down…will you realise that you can’t eat money”. This morning I wanted to visit Antelope Canyon near Page. I waited almost an hour at the entrance, I was up too early. The brochure said: $6 entrance fee. What it didn’t say was: only with a guide. This costs an additional $20. If you want to see the Upper and Lower Antelope Canyon, the price doubles. For public pictures (blog) there is an additional $35 photo licence fee.

Dear monster truck-driving Navajos! Only when you have eaten the last dollar will you realise that you can also make a fire with wood. I drive off in a huff with squealing tyres.

On the way to Arches National Park, there’s a lot of rubble, as I only realise the night before. First I pick up an old Navajo Indian woman. Definitely more destitute than the Mostertruck Navajos from Page. Unfortunately not as talkative, and I have no idea how far you can shove your finger up Navajos’ noses. After an hour I arrive at the Navajo National Monument. After a short trail, the view opens up onto a red canyon. Under a rocky outcrop lies a well-preserved Indian settlement from the 13th century.

The colours get brighter and brighter. The rocks glow. I drive through Monument Valley. For the first time in America, I find a straight road that I like. Every bend would dishonour the valley. I continue on to Utah, once again losing an hour unnoticed due to the time change.

Then I leave the motorway. Fortunately. From the plateau, I take an adventurous dust track up a fault that looks exactly like the monoliths in Monument Valley. 500 metres above the plateau. Higher level. A single large supercell forms in the east. While I’m playing roast pork with the top down, lightning flashes out of the sky in front of me and starts at least one forest fire some distance away.

The Natural Bridges National Monument is a system of branching white canyons. Soft layers at the bottom have been washed away. What remains are rock bridges at the top. After a few short trails, it’s on to Moab, my destination for the day. The hostel is cheap, chaotic, nice people. More and more threatening thunderstorms are building up all around. I’m in a hurry, I want to make the most of the light in Arches National Park.

On my journey so far, the right song in the right place has always told me: you’re in the right place. Since I have an MP3 input in the car, these signs fall flat. Never mind. Today there are much clearer signs. The sun is shining. Directly above me and the Arches National Park. There are thick clouds all around.

I hurry up the winding roads. The light from the low sun makes the red rocks glow. The desert is alive. Fire and desert, grass and sky. The contrasts almost take me off the road several times. I only dare to stop briefly, as the thunderstorms all around could destroy the light at any time.

At the end point, there are several trails to the various rock arches. I do a short 3km trail. Red dusty sand. Twisted dead micro-pines. Switching off the photo would be a waste of energy. There are painted motifs every 3 metres. Peter: I think I’ve broken your pictures-per-day record :-)

I’m not walking, I’m flying, something just short of jogging. The light can be killed by a thunderstorm at any time. At 36 degrees I realise how nice water would be right now. What did the sign say? 1 litre per 2 hours? I’ll just run faster then. My throat is scratchy.

Back at the car, my fears are realised. The thunderstorms push in front of the sun. The living fires become dead rocks. The difference is huge. Almost boring now. It starts to rain. I quickly head for the last remaining arches. But without the right light, all mice are grey.

I only make my way back to the valley after 6.00 pm. There is a rainbow over the park. Rainbow? Where does the light come from? Huge thunderstorms are roaring all around me at 300 degrees. Lightning, thunder, cloudbursts. Only in one direction does it clear up again: in the west, directly in front of the setting sun. I’m in the right place, right now and right here.

The rocks are alive again, shining even brighter than in the afternoon. Another rainbow. Then I see a second rainbow over the first. Am I dreaming? No chance of getting it all in one picture. Below the first rainbow, the landscape in the background appears yellowish, above it normal. Like a gateway to another world. Above the second arch, everything disappears in the hazy rain. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

The last glowing red spots on the surrounding mountains accompany me into the valley. Moab now looks so infinitely ugly, even though it’s actually a nice little town. I buy dinner. I join a jolly group of Germans and Swiss for a few beers at the table. I can’t get rid of the image. Indescribable. I hope the pictures can.