Mountains back to the Desert

We spent a few days in the mountains of Southern Utah, waiting out a heat wave before returning to the desert. Finally, a big wind blew in along with cooler air. We were immediately on the move toward the San Rafael Swell.

It was another longish day of driving but we arrived at a familiar campsite in time for a sunset walk. The wind was still blowing as we started our walk.

As we climbed an abandoned trail on a mesa, the sun fell toward the horizon behind us. I captured our first shadowy family portrait of the trip.

It was a short walk that R participated in, and he wanted me to prove that he was there during this trip! (BTW, his paws and the rest of him seem to feel great now - so his sore paws and malaise during the trip were nothing serious).

As the sun dropped, Shyla gazed wide-eyed at the scene.

As the sun dropped, the wind stopped too! That made us very happy because our campsite was pretty exposed, and wind storms can rapidly become sand storms in the desert.

We had a relaxing and quiet evening in our campsite. I took photos of star trails over the mesas that I'll share with you later.

We awakened to the gorgeous colors of the desert. I think that part of what I love so much about the desert is how incredibly different it is than our mountain home.

This campsite has a great trail for Shyla and me to mountain bike so we headed out early, trying to beat the heat. She was a bit hot at the end but she was also very happy!

We stayed in that spot for only one night and headed out in the afternoon, hoping to secure our favorite campsite that is about 30 miles from Moab but still sometimes gets crowded.

After a shortish drive, we found that no one was in "our" campsite, one that we've dubbed "K's Rock" because we had a wonderful time with her in this spot last May. Yes, if you're counting, K has a lot of rocks named after her! R was ecstatic!

Although we call it a "rock", it's really a huge Wingate sandstone formation, very high and about 100 yards long. In this photo, you can barely see the Runner on the right peak, raising his arms to the heavens. It gives you a sense of the hugeness of everything in desert.

It turned out that there was a veritable garden of blooming plants at the base of K's Rock, which I'll show you in the near future. I've never seen anything like it in the desert before - a sandy floor covered in a carpet of flowers - purple, orange, red, and pink.

Yes, this Land is our land... and we are so lucky to live here.

Red Rock, Blue Sky

Continuing with our desert story... We saw one more sunrise from our plateau campsite before moving on. I loved how the pattern of shadows on the east-facing mesa and cliff were similar for sunrise and moonrise.

Later that day, we made a snap decision that we wanted to go explore some new territory. At moments like that one, we adore our Labmobile because our camp is mobile. We were ready to leave within less than a half hour.

I have admit that the bouncy, hot, and dusty drive to our next site left me feeling jaded. As we arrived in the "splendor" of the new area where we planned to camp, I commented that it looked like the kind of place that a fugative could hide for years without anyone ever finding him because no one would ever go there!

That's the nature of the desert for me. At first glance, I sometimes think it looks barren, inhospitable, and even ugly. Then, when I settle in and start looking at the world with a happy eye, I realize that it is spectacular.

We found a campsite down away from the road that felt like it was a million miles from civilization. Indeed, during the days that we ended up staying in this area, we heard only a couple of vehicles go by on the road.

Our new campsite was sandy, just like the previous one. Several of you asked how R looked when covered in red desert sand. In fact, we referred to him as  "brindle Lab" during our trip. The combination of black and red was wonderful.

But, I like him looking shiny best of all.

From our new campsite, there was a tough trail to mountain bike that took me along the base of a series of cliffs. Sometimes I rode with the Runner and the Duo, and sometimes I rode on my own. We never saw another person in this area. I keep emphasizing our solitude because friends have told me about the crowds at more popular desert destinations - like Moab.

In addition to being peaceful, our private playground was gorgeous.

The trail wound along, sometimes in the shadow of steep cliffs and sometimes curving around beautiful obstacles.

The word "boulder" takes on a whole new meaning in this part of Utah. Look at how this boulder dwarfed my bike.

Sometimes, I felt as if the boulders were closing in on me. I joked with the Runner that many of the boulders appeared to be perched precariously, ready to roll further away from the cliff. He commented that the boulders had merely "paused" in their downward tumble but had not "stopped". With that undoubtedly true point of view, it certainly is smarter to stay on the uphill side of them.

Back in camp, we lazed around during the afternoons. I sometimes played games with the dogs. Here, I captured Shyla pointing right at me, a variation on her "wave".

She's such a fun dog. Recently, I feel like she's finally understood that she will be part of our family forever. During the trip and since we've been home, she seems more confident and, to my surprise, even more affectionate than before. It's a wonderful evolution to be part of.

A Canyon to Remember

Our first Utah campsite was at the mouth of a canyon at the eastern edge of the San Rafael Swell. We arrived as the sun was setting and the moon was already high in the sky. Our LabMobile camping van is in the lower right of the photo.

The moon looked particularly gorgeous above the red cliffs that loomed over our campsite.

After arriving, we took a sunset hike on a vast expanse of slick rock with the canyon far below us. The sandstone surface made for easy hiking and the the rock formations lining the sides of the slick rock glowed in the setting sun.

I looked at the deep red rock in the photo above more closely. It was a work of art with colorful lichens flourishing on its rusty surface.

After our hike, the sun rapidly set, and I had a brief moment to take a photo of the stars rotating around the North Star before the moon shined too brightly on the northern sky.

The next morning after a long sleep, Shyla and I headed out for a mountain bike ride to explore the canyon. It was deserted - we had the entire beautiful place to ourselves (except for the two R's who were running up on the slick rock). That's what I love about the West - if you leave the beaten path, there are still places that offer complete solitude.

I looked straight up after we entered the depths of the canyon. The wall to the right holds a gallery of pictographs, drawn thousands of years ago. The artists chose a glorious place to display their talent.

Shyla and I had an incredible ride, through the cool shade of the canyon and then up into the sunlight at the top. It seemed ironic to see her panting after porpoising through the snow at home so recently.

She was fascinated with the sights and scents, striking dramatic poses as she surveyed the novel world.

As we descended back into the canyon during our return to camp, Shyla explored a low wall made of red honeycomb-like sandstone.

Shyla decided that it was the perfect place to bow down in thanks for the beauty of our world. The desert always reminds me that we are small specks within the endless universe.

We had a wonderful time in that canyon. However, like several places that we visited on this trip, it reminded me of K. Last spring, knowing that her time was running short, we visited this canyon with her. Seeing the canyon again brought back intense memories of K and moments of deep sorrow. It was so bittersweet being in such a glorious place with her and knowing that it was the last time that she'd be there. And, as I foresaw last year, K was not with us on our return to this canyon, except in spirit.

The juxtaposition of rejoicing in the bond that I'm building with Shyla while I'm still grieving for K overwhelms me sometimes. My heart tells me that I'll probably never stop grieving for K - my bond with her was like no other. However, Shyla's sweet sensitivity and loving spirit are helping me more than I ever thought was possible.

Life marches on but the pawprints of angels remain in my heart.

100 Days

Allow me a moment to rant before I return to our peaceful trip. I called in some routine prescriptions for K to pick up from our vet. One is her thyroid medicine which we've always picked up in batches of 100 pills. The tech wanted to know if we "really wanted 100 pills". Clearly, she or someone else there thought that K might not live 100 days. I kept my tone even and confirmed that we wanted 100 pills. I'm not giving up on my girl yet.

Here's that same photo from the other day but with a different white balance setting. I love this photo of my little angel standing in front of the setting sun.

The desert shows you what a small speck in time a human or dog lifetime really is. Erosion reveals millions of years of layers of rocks. Imagine how many primates and canines have lived and died over the time that it took for the rocks in the photo below to be shaped into their amazing forms.

My first experience with how the world keeps turning even after a death was when my mother died. I was fairly young when breast cancer took her from us. In the days following her death, my dad, brother and I stuck together like glue. We went to the hospital where she'd died, and I was given the job of picking up the bag of her belongings. My irrational thought was that, since she'd been wearing her watch when she'd died, it would have stopped at the exact moment of her death. I quickly rifled through that bag, searching for my mother's watch.

Of course, I was completely wrong. The tiny gold watch was ticking, with the second hand still going in circles. It hadn't even paused at the moment of my mother's death. I stood there in the hospital hallway, tears streaming down my face, as I realized that the world stops for no one. The world keeps spinning. And, the lives of others go on. The same will be true after K dies and after I die.

Rocks like this one will keep being weathered by the water and rain, making increasingly intricate patterns of holes and waves. I wonder how many living things have passed through this world while this huge boulder was being weathered.

The sun will still rise every morning, making the brown and black dogs of the world hot in the spring and summer.

In the meantime, even though some vets may question whether I should invest in 100 days of thyroid medicine for K, she and I will keep romping for as long as we can.

We'll revel in the sunsets and how they make the world glow with warmth and beauty.

And, we'll revel in the stars, knowing that we are part of a huge and beautiful universe.

We'll seize each day. But we'll also keep hoping that we get more than 100 more days together.

Learning from the dogs

I think that visiting such a completely alien environment like the desert was a perfect way to shift my thinking about K's osteosarcoma.

My mind was pulled out of a sad rut by living in a Mars-like environment for more than a week.

Before we left on our trip, I was still reeling from the shocking news that K had metastases in her lungs despite the state-of-the-art treatment that she was receiving for osteosarcoma. I knew that her prognosis had just taken a nose-dive. Due to that news, when I looked at my K, I saw a dog who was very sick with cancer and whose life would end soon. I was grieving even though my K was still here and very much alive.

Then, we went to the sunny desert and played together for an extended break. K showed me, without a doubt, that she has lots of spunk left in her. She hiked slot canyons with us that were barely wider than her body.

She ran with me as I took short mountain bike rides. Rather than just trotting along beside me, she sometimes scrambled among the cliffs and boulders lining the trails.

I didn't even flinch as she landed on her "weak" leg that used to have bone tumors in it.

She did have a little trouble with the heat and sore paw pads... but that's par for a desert trip.

When we weren't hiking or biking, we all relaxed in camp, enjoying the warm air and solitude. We snoozed, read, and took photographs. R practiced his favorite skill... he's an expert lap dog!

A week of that wonderful vacation routine altered my thinking dramatically. When I look at K now, I see a dog who is full of life and wants to live each moment with joy. Since the trip, I have to admit that I do swing into wildly hopeful moods that are not realistic. To stay on an even keel, I remind myself that these are the good days, and they won't last forever. I'm still working the mindset of simply enjoying each moment without thinking about the future. It's easy to say but, believe me, it's hard to do. Dogs are so very good at it... I'll keep trying to learn from my K.

And from R, who is far wiser than his goofy visage usually reveals.

A red rock canyon

When I'd never visited the desert, many years ago, I thought of it as a hot and dusty wasteland. When I first passed through Utah many years ago, I found out exactly how wrong I was. In the photo below, K gazed at the slickrock reef that marked the start of the San Rafael Swell.

During our recent trip, we spent time in awesome red rock canyons of the San Rafael Swell. Our first stop was Black Dragon Canyon, a deep canyon that cuts through the rock plateau of the swell.

Most of the rock canyon walls are made of sandstone, and some of it glows red making me feel like I'm on Mars. The water that periodically rushes through the canyons shapes the rock walls into smooth wavelike forms. K stood in the shade under one of the waves.

The scale of the canyons is hard to fathom. These canyons are alleys carved into the red rock by surging water and wailing winds. In the photo below, K is trotting up an canyon that periodically has a river coursing through it when an intense rainstorm dumps water at the top of the canyon.

K seemed to love being down in the canyons, following the scents of the many animals who walk through the canyons and enjoying the cool air that rests on the floor of the canyons.

Following the labyrinth of canyons kept reminding me of what a small speck we are in the history of the Earth. The drama and heartbreak of our lives have seemed huge and overwhelming recently... but many people have walked the peaks and valleys of life before us, some creating rock art depicting their life experiences.

These drawings bring heart and humanity to the history of the world that can be read into the the rock canyons. I wonder whether the people who drew the rock art so long ago also gazed at the skies over the canyons at night.

And, I wonder how many watched all the stars in the sky rotate around the north star in the darkness of the deep desert at the mouth of Black Dragon Canyon.

We felt so grateful that K was healthy enough to playfully enjoy the desert with us. I think that she was grateful too. Look at her smile!