Morbid Romantic

Book Review & Personal Blog

State: Utah
City: St. George

I know that it’s September, but I’m not used to waking up to chill 58 degree mornings. I still have a few months left of morning warmth in me. Virginia won’t get that cold in the morning for another month, at least. The cold was biting but also a little refreshing. It felt good to get out of the hotel room and smell the air, which seemed extra clean because it was so frigid.

Our plan was to make it all the way to St. George today. It was a realistic plan since we only had half of Colorado to go and then route 15 along Utah to St. George. We estimated a good 6 hours on the road, but it would all be worth it if we could reach our destination and finally be some place other than a hotel, not looking at more road ahead of us. I mean, seriously, you do sort of get tired of the US when you’ve been staring at it passing by your window for 6-8 hours a day for 5 days. It’s lovely and exciting too, yes, but not something I want to endure longer than, say, a five day period.

For the last leg of Colorado, the trip wasn’t as death-defying. Maybe I had somehow strengthened my disposition over night. That’s what I like to think. In reality, I think the mountains were just a little less terrifying because we were heading towards the end of them into the cliffs and valleys of Southern Utah. Stuff like you see in Western movies. Of course the middle of the Rockies is going to be high and nerve wrecking to the point where your blood pressure rises and all you can do is try to control the ringing in your ears. But what goes up must come down. Hopefully not at 100 miles an hour barreling down the side of a mountain. No. In low gear at a safe and steady speed that won’t at all kill you (unless the person behind you is barreling at 100 miles an hour and rams into you… or is one of those out of control trucks that have missed their ramp).

I admit, though, that I really started to enjoy all of the tunnels and rivers (like the Colorado and White) around or under us. Towards the end of our travels through the Colorado Rockies, we drove through or in between mountains instead of at their edges. This is my preferred way to drive through mountains because there’s no steep drop to look down at. All that there is around you is safe, tall mountains to the left and the right, road before and behind.

Blessed was the moment when Colorado turned to Utah. I think we all felt, at that moment, a sense that we were close to home. The terrain and the state are so familiar to us that we all collectively relaxed and eased through the cliffs and deserts of southern Utah. There’s something about southern Utah that’s really gorgeous, even for its lack of trees and grass. I kept making us all pull over so that I could see the skylines and scenic things. The first one we went to, I am ashamed to say, I didn’t have the courage to climb. We had to walk up this really steep and FAR path to a higher peak, which was intimidating because we were already pretty high up. I couldn’t imagine going even higher. Plus, I was wearing flip flops, which don’t have the best traction. Instead of climbing to the summit to look down, I walked through a bit of the barren trees and plants to find a place to take a picture down into the cavern.

Oh, and the bathroom there was gross. It was one of those holes in the ground. I never, ever want to experience another bathroom like that in my life.

The coolest part of the scenic turn off was that Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch hid in the caverns. The cavern was massive. It was something so big and so deep that it was impossible to scale from where I was standing above it. Because it was so big and so deep, everything looked very small. Does that make sense? That something can be so big that it appears small? I think the cavern appeared as such because I was so far from it and couldn’t put all of the lines and smaller cliffs within into proper perspective. To me, since I was hundreds (thousands even) of miles above, of course it was small.

When I think back on it now, I feel a little sick to my stomach that I stood on the edge of a cliff so deep. All it would have taken was one wrong step or something to unsettle me. I hate stuff like that. I’ve always been terrified of heights, but I’ve worked on recovering from it to the point where heights don’t bother me terribly. But, every now and then it does get to me.

Southern Utah is desert, okay? You see desert and small patches of plants here and there. All around are red and brown cliffs with the occasional white streak here and there. Moab, which we passed, is famous for its natural rock arches. I’ve never been to Moab and seen those arches, but they seem pretty awesome. I’d like to head down there sometime and check them out. And then maybe go over to Zion National Park to see their things, too.

My first impression of St. George was, “so this is a little oasis in the middle of the desert?” And it is. We’re surrounded by red rock mountains. There is one right in my mother’s backyard, close enough that we can see people rock climbing or scaling down. The main part of the city is at the bottom of the valley thing and everything else is up from it. So, St. George is a… concave dome of rock. And HOT like you wouldn’t believe. Not the humid hot I am used to in VA. No. Hot skin baking heat that just pounds down at you from above and makes the paint on the street signs curl. Though I was relieved to arrive at our destination, I was also a little bit bummed because I know that come Saturday, the work will begin anew and we’ll be unpacking from wake to sleep.

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