Stars at Noon
"....Canyons so deep you can see the stars at noon,
it's a paradise I'm thinking of.
Feeling complete as I'm held within these walls,
and the river gently sings her lullaby."

Stars at Noon, by Anke Summerhill, from: Slickrock and Sagebrush,
Songs for Utah Wilderness, available from SUWA.
Click here to go to SUWA's site.

Day 1: Oh, the Ramparts we Hail! (Or, Break Out! to the Cedars and Bristlecones): I fly down I-15 to Parowan Saturday morning, avoiding the laborious Friday tarmac clog of Labor Day weekend. Craig M. and I hike the Ramparts Trail in the high and deluxe Cedar Breaks NM. We enjoy the fragrance of Bristlecone Pines, see two minor arches, and those wondrous 2500' deep amphitheaters of the Breaks. We swoop the hair-pin turns, looping off the plateau to find that MaryAnn L. has arrived in Parowan. After catch-up talk, we get to bed as early as possible, anticipating the spiritual enchantment of the Zion Narrows.

Day 2: Cathedral of The Narrows: The alarm goes off just after 3 a.m., and soon we are on the road to the land of Zion, where we wait in the refreshing dark for the shuttle to Chamberlain Ranch. Along the way, Mike mimics the polygamists, "with this reunion, we'll hear a lot of "Oh, my heck!" at the overpopulation en masse, with seminars on how to misstate fatherhood and garner welfare payments, avoid paying taxes, etc. "Oh, my heck!" "No deaths in The Narrows, this year," he states, then continues "but they're dropping like flies everywhere else; flash floods, swept over cliffs, heart attacks, heat stroke, other stuff."

    Launching out of the shuttle, we begin hiking, hustling through the very cool almost-Fall air. I am wearing wool mittens, awaiting the arrival of old sol with the solar load. Soon, it is time for waders, and, fortunately, a warming temperature. We slip into the rock cleavage of The Narrows. As we pause for a snack, a cadre quartet of babes with long, braided hair and curiously, considering the terrain, long patterned dresses, march by in formation, trailed by a matron in a solid color dress, and a whiskered goat. Polygamists? We surmise. I wonder if there is a larger sin than producing so many children, when the earth can Sustainably support about 2.5 billion, and we have far exceeded, nearly trippled, this number and are hurtling farther out on the debt plank; in debt to the environment, the air, the water, the soils, the open space, the wildness, the future prospects for children, flora and fauna, etc, and etc. The burgeoning population is decimating, threatening, robbing the future, the present from our children, us. Wallace Stegner says: "One of the bitterest conflicts in Utah is between environmentalists… and the stubborn Mormon determination to make it support more saints than it possibly can." And, we have the g.w. republicans sawing off the plank with their anti-environment crusades. What fun. Yet, back to The Narrows.

    The going is glorious and not too difficult, and we absorb golden Monet views of luminescent sandstone. The canyon turns South as it intersects with Deep Creek, which doubles the flow and adds slimy bowling ball rocks which grant only precarious footing. On we slog in the canyon coolness as the outside world temperature thunders into the 100 degree zone. We experience impending dehydration, up to our knees in water. We discover that the river water is too mucky and musty for drinking, yet we find an obscure spring near Goose Creek and tank up. Ah, irrigation. A few dozen more bends and Big Springs gushes, while the Virgin River gurgles and burbles. Near here, we enter the official Narrows, and during one of our many brief gorp stops, Craig notes that "This is now an official beating!" "Keep moving, for it's a 13-hour hike over 16-miles and the Equinox is approaching," I chant to myself. Oh, the glorious Narrows, deep and primeval. I add two polypro tops and eat two more candy bars and an apple. We are rolling, sometimes the rocks are rolling us.

    A bevy of self-described Las Vegas show girls are rolling too. Apparently too exhausted to scout, they swim several pools and are now feeling the effects of not having sufficient food or clothing. One has wrenched a knee while dancing the greased bowlers, and the group slows. It's not like dancing the hardwoods of the city that squanders all that electricity and water.

    Wow, The Narrows. Pay attention, be here, for it's easy to become absorbed in the intricacies of wading and routing. Dark alleys, murmuring virginal waters course through dark sandstone tunnels, amber light filters through rock crevices from nearly a click overhead, 1000, 2000' of serpentine sandstone wiggles above. Orderville Canyon looms left. We pause and admire this slot canyon, noting it as a future destination.

    We begin to encounter day hikers hiking from below, yet it seems that they will outrun daylight if they continue upstream. We have been slogging for 10 hours now, yet the mystic appeal of The Narrows remains. A structure appears. An odd looking kiva-like structure. With mind dull from 12 hours of enchantment, it does not immediately register as the upstream end of the tarmac tourist trail. It's the Temple of Sinawava exit. My, what an unusual experience walking on smooth, level terrain.

    On the park shuttle, the crepuscular zone collapses as our heads roll and jerk in and out of sleep. We arrive at the visitor center, again, it's dark. By the time we hit the pillows, we have been enchanted with The Narrows experience for 21 hours. Whispers of thundering water, views of towering and glowing walls occupy my dreams.

Day 3: Parowan Gap Glyphs: Rising late, we inhale fantastic omelets by Craig. And, as wet clothes steam in the cars, we drive to the panels of petroglyphs in the Parowan Gap, where we encounter Nal Morris, who gives us a tour, talking about lunations and measuring time and seasons inscribed in the zipper glyph and supporting petros inscribed, described to those who can decode, the panels. Amazing stuff.

    Even though I leave early for the city of smog, I become imprisoned in the Provo propagation parade parking lot of I-15. Still, there's that Zen-like calm that comes from memories of the water's lullaby, the soothing glow of the sandstone.

Use your brain, not your **** - Click here to see the effects of and what you can do about the Provo Propagation Parade.

And, for the link between population, consumption, and the death of nature - Click here to see the effects of the Utah state motto, "Industrial Overpopulation, NOW!" Instead, dream a new American Dream.

            and, let's end with dreams of: Stars at Noon
"....Canyons so deep you can see the stars at noon,
it's a paradise I'm thinking of.
Feeling complete as I'm held within these walls,
and the river gently sings her lullaby."

Stars at Noon, by Anke Summerhill, from: Slickrock and Sagebrush,
Songs for Utah Wilderness, available from SUWA.

Click here to go to SUWA's site, order a CD, contact an agency, etc. Please do lots of somethings every day to preserve what little wildness is left.

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