the interplanetary airstrip
The spring-fed stream in Grandstaff Canyon flows into the Colorado River.
This is the story of the story of…
On a road trip to Southern Utah in February, I felt a leaving-the-stress-behind-me migraine coming on. "Let's stop so I can buy some coffee," I said. I never drink coffee. The miracle of coffee if you never drink it, is that it will stop a migraine before it takes hold. I had no idea how to use the complicated coffee machine at the petrol station and asked a traveling cowboy for help. Instantly friends, we bonded over our hats, the places we were coming from and going to. He made my coffee and paid for it.
Somewhere along Nine Mile Canyon Road north of Green River, poring over the Utah Gazetteer, my people hit upon a mysterious quadrant that read, simply, "interplanetary airstrip". "Wait. What? Stop the car." All travel froze so I could see for myself - with my handy magnifying glass - and sure enough: "interplanetary airstrip". Everyone knows the desert is where our visitors land. Able cartographer! The strip was inaccessible from the dirt road; accessible only from the air, apparently. We explored the canyon but other than being mesmerised by the stunning owl petroglyphs, my mind was running how-to scenarios.
That night in Moab's fabulous Gonzo Inn, after a stroll, probably pizza, and a rousing game of Settlers (of Catan), everyone fell asleep. I did not. It occurred to me then that I had consumed - with zero tolerance - 16 ounces of coffee at 5pm. Sleep would not be happening for me. I thought for many long hours about the interplanetary airstrip and dormant pathways opened in my mind. Around 3am I landed on it: the story of…
Left: I love the running stripes painted on this building in the desert town of Green River, Utah. The mustard and yellow evoke the Rabbit Brush. There is much life to be found in desert scrub.
Right: Rock formations of the Southern Utah Landscape in this mural by Bob. The pinnacle, buttes and mesa, in the colours that emerge when the sun has dipped.
Under the Morning Glory Arch in Grandstaff Canyon near Moab. We criss-crossed the stream until the walls of the box canyon stretched up above us. It was almost too much: skyscraping red walls, an arch overhead and a natural spring trickling down into a shallow reflective pool. I took a 360 degree video but my people weren't excited to watch it. For me, It is like watching Philip Gröning's documentary "Into Great Silence" where with so few elements to pay attention to, one is wholly absorbed and then transformed.
Left: Researching the show-stopping owl petroglyphs we visited in Nine Mile Canyon, I spent 20 minutes discovering other owl petroglyphs and pictographs instead of writing a caption. I feel incredibly lucky to have Great Horned Owls and Western Screech-owls inhabit my garden from time to time. Walking out the back door and coming eyes to eyes (it has to be plural, because, you know, owls’ eyes!) with a row of four baby screechies is among my most incredible happenings ever. I wonder what relationship the ancient Fremont culture had with owls.
Right: Pussy willows backlit, growing along the stream in Grandstaff Canyon.
The story of Dead Horse Point is honestly too sad to share, but the view is incredible. Chien Chien likes to be high up to see what there is to see.
There could be a palette called Southern Utah Winter. We passed this farm after my people drove me 10 miles in the opposite direction just so I could photograph the Green River. More to come about this river...
I am my own fact checker:
1. Settlers of Catan was rebranded "Catan" in 2015 but I have always called it "Settlers".
2. I still can't remember for sure whether we had pizza.
3. I do have documented proof of the airstrip as well as its coordinates…top secret.
