Today as we pedaled into Castle Valley, I was reminded of Terry Tempest William's book, RED, a book of essays, many of which are about the Castle Rock area.
This land in southern Utah is vast; it's a wild tapestry of stunning red cliffs and spires, winding canyons, natural bridges and arches. The Colorado River meanders through it, in some places seeming to flow peacefully, and in others with wild abandon. I'm told that there is an astonishing array of plant and animal life, some I've seen, like the juniper, blue bird, and raven, and others that have eluded me. Of course, I am pedaling along, keeping a pace that doesn't afford me the opportunity to see the minute details coloring and inhabiting this place. Still, I'm enjoying a certain solace knowing that so much exists in this area.
The desert is a terrain I've had an ambivalent relationship with, having spent three weeks backpacking through the Chihuahuan Desert many years ago, and hiking in parts of Arizona and New Mexico, struggling with the heat and starkness. But this desert is like nothing I've experienced. It's alive in a way that feels both soothing and energizing. There's no getting bored as the landscape just keeps getting more and more stunning. Williams writes in RED, "These wild lands are alive. When one of us says, 'Look, there's nothing out there,' what we are really saying is, 'I cannot see.'"
I see; I see this wilderness that both Williams and Abbey have passionately written about as vast, enlivening and comforting. I don't know that I'll be back soon, or later, or ever. But thus far, I have been touched and moved.
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