Paria Dunes

One day, I want to hike Buckskin Gulch.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling place,

With only one fair spirit for my minster.

That I might forget the human race,

And hating no one, love her only.

-Lord Byron

No More Class

My mother-in-law tells me that when Kevin was five, he was very excited to go to kindergarten. She'd prepared him by talking about all the things he'd do in kindergarten, the daily schedule, etc. He went the first day and had a blast, but the next day, instead of getting ready for school, she found him sitting in front of the TV in his PJs. She told him that he needed to hurry and get ready for kindergarten, to which he replied, "No, I don't need to go to kindergarten today. I've already been." What a rude awakening that he would have to do this not only for a second day, but for 12 years of public school, college, and beyond.

Tuesday Kevin had his last classes for law school. Congratulations, Kevin. Hey, it's been a long time coming, but you can finally say you don't need to go to class; you've already been.

Kanarra Creek

On of my brother Mike's top Southern Utah hikes is Kanarra Creek, a BLM-managed slot canyon 12 miles south of Cedar City outside of Kanarraville. There's a dirt road past Kanarraville and a little hike (half a mile?) to get to the slot canyon. In the slot canyon, there are several waterfalls, one of which stopped us from ascending further, even though there was a rope there. Kevin and I hiked this with my brothers, my sister, and her husband in July 2005, and for such a short hike had many adventures, including a large rattlesnake next to the creek in the lower canyon and a dead battery in my brother's van to greet us when we came back.

This country is gorgeous, and the area is lesser-known so it was fun for my family to go there as a group. I don't typically like getting super wet, but I put up with it for this one, much to the amusement of my brothers. Sorry, this video is on its side.


Here are two videos of the area in the slot canyon that finally stopped us. My brother-in-law got up this rope, but he'd spent half the previous year roofing and had a lot better upper body strength than the rest of us.


One thing that you can't totally see in this clip is how the water comes down from the side, so the rope is practically hanging in part of the waterfall. Also, loud, rushing water can be a bit distracting.


This is the largest clip, but most rewarding. The makeshift log ladder was pretty slippery and wet, so it required some caution. While I'm making my way down, Matt takes in views of the slot canyon.

Literature Analysis, Revisited

My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

On ny daily walk today, I randomly remembered an experience I had as an undergraduate in a 200-level literature class that involved this poem. The class had about 20-30 students, and I remember I got into a debate with the rest of the class (or the vocal 6 or 7 of them) about the intention of this poem. At first glance, I see what the rest of the class saw, which is about a boy remembering a fun roughousing episode with his father. On second glance, I view this poem as a frightening experience--the boy being beaten by his drunken father--childishly turned into a more pallatable experience or the "Papa's Waltz." There are several litotes, understatements such as "such dancing was not easy" or "could not unfrown itself" that not only are intended as understatements, but I believe imply that the opposite is actually very much the truth. In addition, the words like "death," "beat," "clinging," "caked hard," and "held my wrist" seem to imply a sense of desperation, or not being in control. Despite these evidences, I don't think I was able to convince anyone that this poem did not describe a charming childhood memory.

Ah well, I guess that upon reading this poem nine years later, I can safely say that my opinion about its meaning hasn't changed, except that I feel even more strongly that this poem shows a child's attempt to make sense of a scary situation by putting it in the context of a dance. Is that a good thing? So much for my Walt Whitman stance that a poem should change my view for a day, if not for a few hours.

Furguson Canyon (and Top Five list)

This last weekend I went hiking with my dad and one of my brothers up Furguson Canyon, just south of Big Cottonwood Canyon. It was just a short hike, a couple of hours, but enjoyable to do a little mountain hiking so early in the year. I was amazed how quickly the canyon descended on us, how soon the rocky cliffs seemed to form around us. I grew up looking into this canyon, and never realized how navigable it was, as I was always more focused on the larger Cottonwood canyons. The house I grew up in had a swing set in the backyard, a real park-style swing set with tall metal poles that were buried in the ground. To unwind after school, I used to take my walkman out and swing on the swings, facing east, looking straight into Furguson Canyon.

I had been up this canyon before with my dad, when I was 8 or 9 years old. I remember the rock climbers there--there are some excellent beginner rock climbing spots not too far up where it's not too difficult to reach the top of the cliff through other means and secure the ropes before the climb. There were rock climbers there again, and it looks like a lot of fun. Made me think I need to start developing additional upper body strength if I'm going to attempt that.

During our hike, we each discussed our favorite Utah hikes. I am not a huge fan of top five lists because I dislike picking the last two and leaving everything else off the list, but my brother pressed me to come up with a list of my top five Southern Utah hikes. Here's what I came up with on the fly:

1. Fiery Furnace, Arches National Park
2. Chesler Park, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park
3. Devil's Garden primitive loop, Arches National Park
4. Bell's Canyon/Little Wildhorse Canyon loop
5. Peekaboo/Navajo/Queen's Garden, Bryce National Park

I had forgotten about Calf Creek in Escalante, which really should be there as it is an amazingly fun hike. Also, I'd have to do Coyote Gulch and Upper Muley Twist Canyon in different weather/hiking conditions to see how I'd fare when more prepared.

Photo Shoot, Downtown SLC

The marketing manager at work scheduled short photo shoots with everyone for our new company website. I had mine a couple weeks ago, and the pics are in. Incidentally, I think they chose to go in a different direction for the site, thinking it would be too personal to have our photos and bios posted publically. It was fun to get these taken, though, and it gives the area around my office a more artistic look. When I look at these, I can almost forget that bums go to the bathroom in our stairwell.

April Flowers at Temple Square

Oh my heart is in bloom like a lilac tree

And my heart like the sunlight gloweth

She has but to glance and my lilac tree

And lo, into blossoms it goeth

And my soul has the wings of a nightengale

It lives with the lilac flowers

In extasy singing its wondrous lay

Of joy in its perfumed bowers

F. Schumman

Rain in Capitol Reef

This weekend Kevin and I made our first visit to Capitol Reef, completing our goal of visiting all five national parks in Utah together. I went to Capitol Reef once as a kid with my family and cousins, but I don't remember much of it. I remember driving around dirt roads in my uncle's big suburban while my mom was sleeping in one of the back seats. When she woke up, we were driving through a river. She woke up with a huge gasp at seeing our SUV partially submerged in water, and we all thought that was pretty funny. This weekend was also marked by surprising amounts of water. When we drove from Sigurd into Torrey, I was surprised to see the nearby mountains covered in snow, and realized that we were at a much higher elevation than I had expected. By the time we checked into our hotel, the Best Western between Torrey and the park entrance, a light drizzle had started. We loved our room, which was situated with a balcony that looked out onto the park, and where we were able to spot and hear animal life, including songbirds and a little kitty who spent a lot of time staring at us.
It was raining by the time we drove arrived at the visitor's center, a less than 10-minute drive from our hotel, where we stopped to discuss our plans for the 15-miler we'd be taking the next day. The center is in Fruita, and early settled town which is incorporated into the Park. It sits on the Freemont river and has orchards and livestock around, including many abandoned wagons (I think I saw at least ten). We hadn't planned any specific hikes for our first day, so we also wanted to hear the ranger's recommendations for what we could do on a rainy afternoon (which, incidentally, were all over the place). We decided to take the scenic drive to the Capitol Gulch, which ended at a trailhead for a wider narrows canyon, steep cliffs on each side. We decided to brave the rain and do the short (approximately 2.5 miles) hike around to the Tanks. While walking through the canyon, we saw the Pioneer Register of wagon trains passing through, and I pitied the early settlers who were called upon to navigate through and settle the desert. I immensely enjoyed the quiet solitude on this hike, as Kevin and I were the only people there. I love walking through canyon narrows (these are about as far apart as Bells Canyon next to Little Wildhorse), and every time we'd stop we could hear nothing but the rain fall. The tanks, we presume are at least two of the white domes that Capitol Reef is famous for. There's also a Golden Throne dome (so the Great White Throne in Zion has a sister), Capitol Dome, and Navajo Dome.
After Capitol Gulch we drove to the Grand Wash where we thought we'd hike the narrows or Cassidy Arch, but it was raining so heavily that we decided to just walk around for a few moments and keep driving. We went out on the highway and stopped off at the trailhead for Hickman Bridge, which we decided to take. This 2-mile round trip hike was a lot of fun, and it came with one of those trail guides like Calf Creek (in Escalante) does to point out the different plants, geology, etc. along the way. There were a lot of large obsidian boulders along this path, along with a cool alcove that had two little natural bridges that you could walk under. Hickman Bridge is a large natural bridge, about 133 feet across. Through it you can see Navajo domes and a lot of the geological formations in that part of the park, and it makes a nice resting spot.
We took a stop by some scenic spots, the Goosenecks (referring to overlooks of round curves int he river) and Sunset point. After that, we headed back into Torrey to buy gas, find me a plastic poncho, and get some grub. One of the seasonal restaurants, the Capitol Reef Inn and Cafe had just opened that night, and based on some local recommendations we decided to eat there (apparently Torrey's Cafe Diablo is one of the best-rated Utah restaurants, but it didn't open until April). Kevin had the baseball sirloin and I had the tenderloin and it was all very delicious. They also had seven home-made honey-sweetened pies, and Kevin and I thought the apple was divine. Our only regret is that we didn't order two slices of pie. We then returned to our hotel for a heated room, clean sheets, and warm showers.
The hike we planned for Saturday was on the southern end of the park. The ranger at the visitor's center Friday had convinced us that the switchbacks on the short-distance route, the Notom-Bullfrog dirt road, would be impassable because of the rain. So we woke up early to go over the mountains through Boulder and onto the Burr Trail Road to get the maximum miles of pavement, even though it probably added 45 minutes to our journey (about 2 hours from our hotel). This route was also plagued by snow that had fallen during the night, so we drove through an inch or more of unplowed snow in the mountains for a large part of the trip. It may have been the long way, but the Burr Trail Road was beautiful. There were tall high cliffs, and no one on the road. We saw a lot of wildlife, including a raptor gliding in the sky. Just beautiful canyon country.
When we reached the turn off to the Upper Muley Twist Canyon, we parked our car near the road. There's a 3-mile high-clearance vehicle road to the trailhead that our little Dodge Neon couldn't muster. We had planned to walk the extra 5-6 miles round trip to and from the trailhead. Only two other people were there that day, and they passed us in an SUV about a mile before the trailhead. We caught up to them at the trailhead and asked them if they came in on the Notom-Bullfrog road. They told us that they did and that they almost got stuck several times in the switchbacks, which made us glad we hadn't ignored the ranger's advice and had braved the icy mountain roads instead.
We had started from our car a little after 10:00 a.m., and the skies were pretty clear, although a few drops were falling when we signed the register. From our car we could see the first of many natural arches, Peakaboo Arch. The dirt road, and then the first 1.7 miles of the trail are through a gravel/sand wash at the bottom of a canyon. This leads to Saddle Arch carved high in the red cliffs, the fourth arch we saw, and where our trail divided for the loop. We had covered the first for miles or so in one hour, but the next mile took us a half hour because it's where we climbed straight up a hill to get on top of the Waterpocket Fold. The view in the morning was breathtaking. From the top of this huge Navajo sandstone reef, I felt on top of the world. We could see out to the Henry Mountains and Mt. Pennel, down toward Lake Powell, and up to Capitol Reef and, I think, Canyonlands. We could see so far, and there wasn't a sign of a soul. At that time I thanked God for uninhabited places as well as the uninhabitable ones.
To our left was the red Winegate sandstone canyon we would later descend to complete our loop. There were many arches along the way, and in one picture I was able to capture three of them at once. Looking from this reef, I developed an itch to learn more about geology. Capitol Reef boasts being one of the most geologically interesting areas in the Southwest, and I can definitely see why. The rivers, the mountains, the folds, and the vastly different layers of sandstone side by side were enough to pique any hiker's interest.
Around noon we stopped at a great viewpoint to eat lunch. The sun finally came out at that point and it stayed warm and sunny for about two hours. We had Triscuit crackers with sliced Tillomock cheese and "zesty lemon pepper" tuna in a pouch (which is a big improvement over the can--we didn't have to drain the water, and the trash was easier and cleaner to pack out). It was very satisfying, and the protein sustained us so we didn't get hungry for the remaining 10 miles of the hike. We continued for the next two miles or so before beginning our climb down, which took a lot more of the trail than I had expected. There were several tricky slickrock spots where it would be awkward with an overnight pack, but we survived by merely crabwalking down the steep edges.
As we descended down into Upper Muley Twist Canyon, we could see a large storm cloud left of us. I knew it would probably rain on us a little, but I had been enjoying the cloudy weather. On top of the Waterpocket fold, above everything else, it was such a pleasant temperature. I was feeling very happy that we'd come so early in the spring, and I was imagining that it would probably be pretty miserable in August at 3:00 in the afternoon. As we made our shift over to the red Winegate sandstone, the rain was coming down the hardest so far on this trip. I donned my $1.99 poncho we purchased from the Torrey Texaco the night before, and we kept walking down into the canyon. The slickrock not only gets quite slippery when wet, but the wet sand stuck to the bottom of my shoes which gave me no traction benefits whatsoever. The water from the storm rushed down the sides of the slickrock, which was convenient because when my hands would get muddy, I could find a spot where quick clean water was nearby to wash them in. Overhead lightning and thunder were close together, and I was glad we were getting off the ridge where we would be so exposed.

The rain continued for 45 minutes to an hour, but I stopped paying attention entirely to the rain and when it stopped when we were faced with the new problem of flooding along what is usually the dry canyon floor. All the rain in a short amount of time ran down the slickrock walls and was congregating together. During what probably should have been one of the coolest parts of the hike--winding between the sloping sandstone--we were wading in ankle-deep or calf deep water. In addition, the sound that the water makes as it rushes down the walls, through alcoves, and in narrow canyons is quite loud, and it sounded scarier than it was. We also went up along the sides, but since that wasn't where the trail was, we walked through a lot of nasty wet vegetation. The hardest part was when we went around a boulder and went into what would usually be a dry pothole. Up to that point, I'd been walking in the sand next to the little river that was forming, and I saw another little river (about 1.5 feet wide and a couple of inches deep) slowly coming from the side to join up with it. I jogged a little to get ahead of the new water, before it joined all the other water when I had to move around that boulder and into the pothole. It was only a foot or two drop, but I could see Kevin in the middle of the pool was waist deep in water. I hesitated a little bit, because the water was making a loud noise as it funneled into a couple inch pass around the boulder and poured into the pool. The hesitation cost me because I could hear, and feel when the second water stream merged with the first one, and much more water began pouring down on my legs as I finally went into the pool.
After that, the worst was over. We hadn't been too concerned about a dangerous (i.e. overwhelming) flash flood because it was March (not July or August) and because in general it was a dry canyon. Another half mile or so, and all the water had been stopped by pothole-type structures in the slickrock or absorbed into the sand of the wash. The next step was for us to get dry, and the sun came out a bit to help with that. We walked quickly the last four miles or so, out of the canyon and onto the high-clearance vehicle road, and made it back to our car before 6:00 p.m.

Keeper of the Blue-Eyed Maine Coon Mix

OK, I've posted on my genealogy, and now I've decided to speculate on my cat Aja's as well. I know that Aja's mother was a long-haired solid black cat, so I think it's safe to say that she's basically a mutt.

When she was a kitten, she resembled a blue-point Siamese kitten. Her fur was very pale, except for little dark spots on her ears, her tail, and her feet. In addition, she had the high-maintenance personality and clear blue eyes of that breed and its off shoots. As she grew older, the tabby stripes (the default pattern for domestic house cats) became more prominent, so much that several years ago my mom gave me a small wood gray tabby kitty figurine, saying it looked like Aja; at the time I was somewhat shocked to hear her described as a tabby rather than a Siamese.

One thing that we can't mistake is how big she is. When Kevin took her to the vet last August, the vet walked in to the room and proclaimed, "Wow! You're massive!" and then suggested they might need the dog scale to weigh her. She weighs about 18 pounds, which is huge for a female domestic cat. This is probably due to her sedentary lifestyle (she's spent years of her life just waiting around for human attention), but it's also her frame. Her paws, for instance, are huge.

Recently Kevin and I discovered a breed of domestic cats called Maine Coons, which apparently were the only cats brought over by early North American settlers who could survive the harsh winters. They're named such because they have bushy tails like raccoons, are large, and have the typical tabby stripes. Even though they're large, Aja would still be on the large size even for this breed. Although Maine Coons do not typically have blue eyes, I think there's some of this in her.

Genealogy, I am doing it

I recently engaged in a 14-day trial of Ancestry.com's offerings of genealogical information. For me, filling out my family tree was pretty simple. I had to only go up two or three generations before the computer found my ancestors and linked them into a large family tree.

I had some pleasant surprises while doing this. There's a feature where one can retrieve a list of famous relatives, and mine list left me feeling quite proud for a person who hasn't really done anything remarkable herself.

I found out I'm a 17th Great Granddaughter of Geoffrey Chaucer. I also found out this line connects me with another of his descendants, Jane Austen, who is a cousin I'm seven generations removed from. Other literary cousins include: Henry David Thoreau, D.H. Lawrence, John Steinbeck, and Aldous Huxley.

Other notables? 11th Great Grandaughter of Miles Standish (Mayflower passenger and signer of the Mayflower Compact). Also distant cousins of five first ladies (Pierce, Roosevelt, Garfield, Hoover, and Eisenhower) and others: Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, Katherine Hepburn, Frank Lloyd Wright, Eli Whitney, Philo T. Farnsworth, J.P. Morgan, and William C. Durrant. (Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.org)

My Original Favorite Place

A couple of posts back, I talked about favorite places. These are places that feel
so much like home that they almost hurt to leave. I recently acquired a photograph of the place that first made me feel this way. This is a picture of Courthouse Towers in Arches National Park. You can see the Three Gossips on the middle left with Sheep Rock to their right. On the right side is the Organ.

I love this picture, and I have it taped up to my bookcase at work. This is the scene that I'd always anticipate on my family's trips to Arches. I never felt like we were actually there until we had ascended the hill from the visitor's center to the main level of the highway and travelled long enough to see these familiar features. My dad taught us to recognize these features instantly, and I see my brothers passing on this tradition with their own kids. A few years back, my oldest niece could point to the 3-pointed fin and identify them as "the Three Gospips [sic]."

I acquired this picture on a trip to St. George. I think this picture is particularly good, taken at sunrise and with a rare set of rolling clouds in the sky. The ground is relatively green but frosty, suggesting it was taken sometime in early spring, and there's a sense of stillness to it. When I look at this photograph, I feel like I'm the only one there.

Places we never want to leave

"I wish I were in Chesler Park" is the statement I currently have under my name on IM. A couple of friends have asked me about this, and Heidi took the challenge to come right back: "I wish I were in Canada... Alberta." She followed with:

"Oh, I always wish I was in Canada. And when I'm there, I never want to leave. The grass IS greener there. It always has been, always will be. Have you ever been to a place that it hurts you every time you have to leave? I mean, really... you want to cry and you feel like part of you has been torn away every time you have to drive away?"

Yes! This is what it is like for me when I have left Devil's Garden after sleeping there a couple nights. This is the feeling I immediately had when I visited Chesler Park for the first time two years ago. This is how my favorite wilderness spots and hikes become my favorite spots and hikes.

And sometimes they are good spots because they come to you at the time in your life when you need them. Two years ago, I went down by Hanksville to Little Wildhorse and Bell's Canyon, with a stop off at Goblin Valley. It was just me, Kevin, and our friend Mike, but it was a President's Day that was desperately needed (I would be defending my graduate thesis a couple of months down the road). We drove our crappy '89 Dodge sedan from Provo through all those miles and then wet dirt roads. It was totally worth it. We got mildly lost and went through Bell's Canyon first, which was a fun twist. The hike was pretty much deserted. Then we went to Goblin Valley, where the playground that existed there was as fun to me as Devil's Garden when I was a kid. Solitude. Brisk air. Red rocks. It was amazing.

A Creature Longing to be Wild

Despite the infinite wisdom of Pi, some animals will never be completely satisfied with a food source, shelter, and a water hole.

Here's Squishy, my dwarf hamster, trying to escape her 10-gallon tank. This is also posted on YouTube.

Pines

Last night I went to a family party to celebrate the birthdays of my brother and three of my nieces. At the party, my sister-in-law handed out hand-made Christmas cards with a beautiful picture of their family in the mountains (the Alpine Loop in Utah) and a link to their Christmas slide show online. After half a decade of marriage, I still haven't been able to plan far enough ahead to send out Christmas cards, and the guilt just got to me. Well, not really, but I suppose I felt guilty about not feeling guilty enough.

It did, however, cause me to reflect on how wonderful this past year has been for me and Kevin. We have a new house, we got out in the wilderness that we love, we started new jobs (or at least new positions at them), and we can celebrate five fantastic years of being together.

Enjoy these pictures of our favorite pines, the bristlecones. These trees on Cedar Mountain are probably buried in snow this time of year, but in my mind it's always late summer here.

November

I relish the way the autumn air in the Wasatch Front blows down from the canyons and makes the air in my yard smell like the mountains.

In autumn, I like to I take inventory of my life, and I feel it is a time for letting things go, such as unnecessary stress, political games, and anything that doesn't feel as comfortable as coming home. On the other hand, it's time I make resolutions, and I have decided to meet my challenges upfront on the job, in my church service, and with my friendships.


Chesler Park at dusk

Reluctance
Robert Frost: A Boy's Will

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

Red Canyon Revisited

Here are a few more pictures from the beautiful Red Canyon between Panguitch and Bryce Canyon National Park.

Spend the years of learning squandering
Courage for the years of wandering
Through a world politely turning
From the loutishness of learning.
--Samuel Beckett

Shakespeare's Poetry and Contrast

As the summer season of the Utah Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City draws to a close, I have to say that I was thrilled with the plays I was able to catch on my vacation. I loved the Merry Wives of Windsor. This comedy is one of Shakespeare’s superior ones, in my opinion. I found it down to earth, and the games and attempted deception plausible and laughable, rather than strange and disturbing as they can be. In the end, Falstaff gets what he deserves and is sad because of it, but the ending doesn’t turn into a nasty cruel and unredeemable punishment on him as some of the other comedies punish their pro/antagonists, and he is almost back to his old self, though a bit humbler. Mistresses Ford and Page were so likeable, and their plots so simple, that I couldn’t help but be entertained. And in the end, Miss Page finds true love. What could be better?

Hamlet was amazing. It is more of a thinking play, a wordy play, than tragedies the festival has recently put on such as Dr. Faustus or Richard III (which was sometimes published as a tragedy). Richard III is riddled with juicy murders throughout, while Dr. Faustus presents the allurement of metaphysical knowledge. In contrast, Hamlet is of the unraveling, the non-creation. He is bypassed for the crown, his romance with Ophelia goes sour, noble people die, school boys perish, and the whole kingdom goes “rotten.”

A month or so ago I posted Psalm 8 here because I was captivated by the beauty of it and the deep question it asks. As I watched Hamlet from my gallery seat, I became very excited about listening to his soliloquies in light of that psalm. While putting on a little show for the insincere Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Act II scene ii, he says sarcastically,

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving howexpress and admirable! in action how like an
angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world!
the paragon of animals!

And continues,

And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights notme.

This is the turning of the psalmist’s words:

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars,
which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the
son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little
lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.

While the psalmist’s words are those of creation, of support and strength of oneself that glorifies the God who gives fear and torment to his enemies, Hamlet’s are those that tear down, that see in humankind and himself vileness and falsehood. His enemies are the ones seeking pardons from God, and in Act I Hamlet himself cries out to God only in response to condemning the word and expressing his suicidal inclinations,

O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely.

What a wonderful contrast in human emotion. On the one hand, there’s total elation. On the other, complete desolation. Yes, Hamlet is a reckoning of they way things go on this earth, that things become broken down, dissipate into useless forms of energy, and “grow to seed.” To Hamlet, it is a universe without meaning repeating this cycle of decay. It’s thrilling in its existentialism as much as Psalm 8 is in its affirmation of a meaningful existence.

Bunker Creek from Brian Head

I thought I was the type who'd try anything once, but after my first mountain biking experience this last week, I'm not so sure. I learned several things from this experience:
1) Mountain biking can be challenging if you've never been on an adult bike, even a road bike, before. There are certain things to consider, such as using your back break more than your front break to avoid flipping over, or learning how to mount and dismount from a bike that's too tall for you to reach the ground with your toes. Learning this over a 3,000 foot descent can sometimes be a little scary.
2) Mountain bikes can do things regular bikes can't, such as going over big rocks, roots, and very bumpy ground. Just be careful and go over them.
3) Even though your rented mountain bike may be one awesome high-end Cannondale with full suspension, there are still some things that you may not want to do on your bike, such as choose the sandy parts of the trail to ride in or worse, the deep ruts of the trail. Don't get stuck in the mindset that your bike's tires are magnets for any debris scattered across the trail.
4) Going uphill can be even more fun than going downhill.
These are a few things that were true to my first experience. There were parts that were really fun, such as riding through the high meadows and the uphill parts (when I peddled, I felt more in control of my speed and direction). The scenery from the top of Brian Head (over 11,000 feet) down to Panguitch Lake (about 8,000) feet was amazing the whole way as it wound through mountain overlooks, fields, woods, and grazing pastures. I was challenged to keep going on my bike, and at times my desired speed was just a little slower than it took to really maneuver my bike, so I went back and forth on taking risks and walking my bike through the rough parts.
All in all, it took me 4 hours to do the 12-mile trail (it usually takes 2.5 for most riders), but I feel like I gave it a good shot, and I have the bruises to show for it.
Unfortunately for my brother who's been trying to coax me into classes, I think this means I may wait a little longer before trying rappelling.

Cedar Breaks

I've been consistently visiting Cedar Breaks at least once a year for the past several years. I find this canyon breathtaking. It's a lot like Bryce, but in many ways it's its own canyon. Kevin and I decided to do a little hiking down the rim of the trail to the Spectra Point and Ramparts Overlook, about 4 miles round trip. This is a relatively easy, well-marked trail, and the scenery is gorgeous as we walked through pine forests almost always in sight of the gaping canyon. My only disappointment was that after walking in about 1/3 to 1/2 mile, we were within easy distance and view of the highway. After that, the trail takes a turn toward the canyon and leads out to Spectra point, providing a clear view of the canyon, Cedar Mountian, and in the distance Cedar City. Still remaining on the rim, the trail to Ramparts Overlook heads into a beautiful strand of pine trees, including bristlecones. It takes a decline through this forest out to a dry desert point, where even the twisted trees struggle to produce green needles.

Red Canyon

Kevin and I just returned from a recent trip to the Cedar City region of the state. Last year we did some hiking at Bryce Canyon National Park, but on our way there from Panguitch, we were stunned as we went through the beautiful Red Canyon, which seemed to just pop out of nowhere from the rolling green hills and plains. I loved it because the brilliant color reminded me distinctly of Arches National Park, where I was first conditioned as a child to love the red rock of Southern Utah. We promised to come back with this canyon as our specific destination.

The ranger at the station was a nice older gentleman with a big, white beard, and at first I was tempted to crack a joke about whether or not he was Ed Abbey reincarnated (I didn't). He and his wife could hardly believe that we came for Red Canyon itself, instead of just merely passing through on the way to Bryce. Yes, Bryce is fantastic; it's breathtaking; however, I think it's unfortunate that Red Canyon be passed up because of its proximity to a naturally spectacular giant.

We decided to go on the Ledge Point Trail, which from the bottom of Red Canyon is about 2 miles to the destination point via Cassidy and Rich trails. Looking at the map and what we could see on foot, it appears that there would be a fun backpacking or horseback trip going up Cassidy and coming down one of the other canyons, such as Losee, where we took our second short hike in the region. We even ran into some riders on the way there, and there were also bike treads on the trail, although the trail was very sandy and wouldn't be my idea of an especially navigable bike trail.

The trail parallels a wash until we split to Rich trail, which started an ascent and took us over a rockier trail. After turning to the Ledge Point trail, we entered a beautiful high Ponderosa Pine forest until we nearly reached the point that looks over much of Red Canyon and is a beautiful prospect.

It was getting close to sundown, and we wanted to stop in Panguitch for dinner at the Cowboy Smokehouse, so we decided to go on a little short tour up Casto Canyon road until we got to the Losee Canyon Trailhead. We walked up the Arches trail, which has about 15 small arches in a .5-.7 mile location. The arches are relatively small, and the place had a Goblin Valley kind of feel to it, but I'd really recommend this hike for kids, although it is a little steep. The rock formations are odd and playful, and it's great to have so much to see in one small place.