Wanderlust, Part IV

After I spent a luxurious night in Old Santa Fe, it was time for the Sedan and me to head north, our adventure over (or so we thought). The weather was forecast to be good all the way home, and though the flight time would push my limits, I had visions of sleeping in my own bed by nightfall.

There was still snow in the high country of New Mexico. I thought it ironic on the climb toward the pass to Farmington that I could see both the Los Alamos nuclear testing facility and ancient Taos by just turning my head. Before I landed for fuel at Cortez, Colorado, I flew along the cliffs of Mesa Verde, hoping for a glimpse of the Anasazi dwellings tucked in under black-streaked rock brows. The early morning shadows hid them from view, but I marveled at the ingenuity of the ancient native people who successfully developed a sophisticated culture in such harsh country.

I looked forward eagerly to the next leg of the trip because I had never even driven through Canyonlands or Moab before. The wind-carved rock formations were so monumental that I could easily admire them from 2,000 feet above. Sunset colors below warmed me, though the day was still young. The river wound through rock reefs, a silver snake in the desert. I saw arches, buttresses, amphitheaters, solid rock “dunes,” shallow caverns, and beautiful green oases tucked into narrow canyons. I knew that someday I would have to return to explore the area on foot.

Green River, Utah, was not at all as I had envisioned it. I decided that this muddy brown river and dry valley could not be the site of the historic Mountain Man Rendezvous (but I later found that Green River, Wyoming, doesn’t look the part, either!) It took me almost two hours to find someone to fuel the Sedan, and I was beginning to worry about my schedule as I headed straight north through the Green River Canyon wilderness toward Vernal, Utah. I soon forgot about time as I looked down on some of the most rugged country I had ever flown over. There was absolutely no place to land a plane if I had mechanical problems. The river churned through a gorge so narrow that there were no gravel or sand bars beside it. Every ridge and side canyon was knife-edged at the top. I felt very small, vulnerable and insignificant. I couldn’t even reach anyone by radio for almost 90 miles. The canyon finally spit me out into the green valley at Vernal.

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