The eye sees things the camera does not. What my photos from this short walk in the rain do not show is the way the water sits on top of the stone making everything look slightly reflective, as though it’s wrapped in plastic, almost. This is, perhaps, a very pedestrian comparison but in Hawaii, you will walk by vendors who have tightly wrapped spam musubi for sale, they are shiny under the heat lamp. It’s a little bit like that. It’s a little bit like when we had that ice storm in Seattle and the front window was coated in this pebble-like glassy coating, smooth and rough at the same time.
If you know where to look when you’re on the trail at Slickrock, you can see the structures of Arches National Park on the horizon. The rain makes the rocks soft and gray; all their sharp edges fade in the distance, but by some magic, the desert expanse still seems just as endless.
The depressions on the surface fill with rainwater; if you happen to be walking with a small dog or two, they will think this is a good place to stop for a drink. Those same potholes reflect the clouds, what light leaks through from above, placing pieces of the sky at your feet.
The most recognizable pictures you see of this region will have an absurd Kodachrome blue sky framed by a majestic stone arch, but I have been here long enough to see the rocks dusted in snow or draped in feathery clouds or — like yesterday — darkened and/or shiny with rain. I have seen the red rock glow pink when the sun, low in the sky, hits it just so but I have also seen it turn a dark rust color or — in the hot light of a summer day dropped into January — a pale sandy gold.
It’s been a month. I am just about ready to be home, to be back to where I can make my coffee exactly how I want it, where I can let the dog out without keeping a sharp eye on him to make sure he doesn’t wander off too far. There are Seattle things I am ready to have back in my life again. I miss my bicycle and the back patio at my neighborhood cafe and the ten minutes I spend in the sauna after swimming laps at the YMCA. (The pool here is aces, but the locker rooms are awkward and there’s no sauna.)
All that said, what splendid luxury this time has been. What an amazing thing to see this place nearly empty in all of its moods.
More color photos of Moab and surrounds here, and black and whites here.