Fall Back

I returned (as usual) to Moab last fall, this time for my longest trip yet: eight days. Since I was going to leave Denver on a Saturday afternoon instead of my usual Wednesday evening, I would need a guaranteed place to stay Saturday night, rather than counting on there being an open site somewhere. I chose to reserve at the North Fruita Desert Campground, to which I had never been.

It was nice to have most of Saturday to pack, rather than having to cram it in during a work week, but between the packing and grocery shopping I still left later than I meant to, and didn't arrive at the campground till after dark. There were no lights, and while I found my site without much difficulty I couldn't see what the area looked like. It sounded like there were only a handful of other groups in the whole campground. It was very quiet and extremely peaceful, with a wonderful sky full of stars.

The morning gave me a glimpse of what my site actually looked like:

In fact, that was what every site looked like. A patch of gravel surrounded by treeless hills. Hey, it's great for stargazing.

I headed out early for Moab. Unlike the North Fruita Desert Campground, most of the campgrounds in Moab are not reservable. I timed my arrival on Sunday morning for when folks would be starting to pack up and head out. I do have a favorite campground, and a favorite site at that campground. It is a very good site, with copious shade. When I got to the campground, it was occupied... but the folks there were starting to pack up.

The site next to it was empty. I pulled in, took out my laptop and started writing. Soon the man at my favorite site came over and said, "Hey, we'll be heading out in about an hour if you want our site."

I smiled and cheerfully thanked him, as if this weren't my plan all along. While I waited, vehicle after vehicle drove by looking for an empty spot. They all eyed the Very Good Site. It made me nervous. But when the other couple moved out I very quickly moved in and began setting up.

Site with car, tent (partly in trees), hammock (blue), and of course view

I hung out, ate, and wrote, then went to Arches for some sunset pics.

When I woke the next morning it was raining, but by the time I got out of the tent the storm had moved on to the east. And it was beautiful, the light of the unrisen sun turning the falling rain to gold.

After that, I explored Canyonlands.

I stayed until sunset.

On another day, I drove down to the Needles district of Canyonlands, where I haven't been in years. 

I was enjoying my hike through Chesler Park among the needles. It was the longest hike I'd taken since my surgery five months past, and amazingly, the ball of my foot wasn't bothering me. It hadn't bothered me much at all this trip. I was in a state of mild euphoria. Maybe, after six years of troubles and a difficult surgery recovery, my pain was finally over.

But as I closed in on the point where I meant to turn around, my feet began to hurt—both of them. And it was the heels, not the ball of the foot. I had a long way back, and I had to do it limping.

Beyond the immediate necessity of a painful walk back to the car, this new event didn't trouble me that much. A little rest, and I felt well enough to go on another hike later in my trip, this time to Tower Arch. 

Often, the harsh lighting of midday makes photography difficult, but this time the hard-edged shadows made for some wonderful shots.

I later took a sunset hike not too far from the campsite.

As I drove back to my site, I ended up behind a train of ATVs. In the darkness and the dust they stirred up, I felt like I was on a Mars exploration foray.

As the sun disappeared, I snapped this shot of other sunset-watchers:

For the most part, it was an uneventful trip. The only thing that made a halfway worthwhile story was that I ended up with the same neighbors for the whole week, a German or Dutch couple about my age who had rented a van and spent every day mountain biking. They would come back and shower in the late afternoon via a shower hose outside the van. They did not use a curtain. I didn't have the heart to tell them that public nudity isn't as accepted here in the US (possibly because whenever the subject comes up I feel the need to rant on the gross mix of puritanism and hypersexualization that is US culture). I just took care not to look in that direction.

But the trip has stayed with me, because the heel pain I picked up on my journey through Chesler Park has stayed with me. I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis. It's been with me for six months, despite rest, despite physical therapy, despite ultrasounds and MRIs that show no inflammation in the area. At this point I'm limited to brief walks for necessities like picking up medication. No walks, hikes, no bike rides, no dancing. Since these are some of my favorite things, and the main things that mitigate my depression, I've been pretty depressed.

And yet I'm hopeful. Many more people recover from plantar fasciitis than not, and there are more treatments for it than you can shake a night splint at. Copious time spent on online forums for PF shows that everyone responds to something different. I will be methodical.

In the meantime, instead of getting exercise, I'm trying to get my blog up to date. On to the next entry.