Adventure 26: Dead Horse Point Sate Park/Post B

Good Power, Limited Water

I heard a poet on public radio this morning. He was waxing eloquent about a new word a friend of his had coined--a verb--to be azaleaed, which means to commiserate with someone for missing something- such as you just missed a wonderful sunset, or you just missed the fall colors as they peeped through the Vermont countryside, or you just missed you baby's first step. There is no need to feel "azaleaed" in the Utah rock country. You won't miss them. They will be here when you get here, and they will bathe your senses every hour you visit with different hues from pale washed white to vivid orange, to shuddering purple. If you have the time and the patience, you can witnes the wonder of God's creation as he sends His planet spinning like the plaything He must think it is. What follows is an attempt to capture the panorama of Dead Horse Point. We have circumnavigated the park along both sides of the rim. Last night we caught the sunset just as we reached the point itself. While we had to traipse back in the near dark, we felt not the cool of the evening, but instead the gentle fingers of God tucking in His wonder for the night, and besides our picnic table has electric light (a manmade gift) under the awning. I'm telling you, Utah State parks are the bomb. So don't feel like you are missing the boat (so to speak). When it sails for you, the wonders will still be here where life is good, especially today.

 The west rim view somewhere along a cairn strewn trail.

 The canopy at Dead Horse Point--midday.
 
 The east rim right near the visitor center. It's called the amphitheater.

 The Hunny Bunny enjoying a brief concert.

 In the distance are the salt fields. They dry and harvest salt by the megaton. I'm not sure if it is for table or some other use.

 One click over from the salt fields.

 My art shot of the evening. I love the gnarled trees.

 The LaSalle Mountains from between two sunbathed rocks.

 My puny little point and shoot cannot match the magnificence of God's sunset. They happen every night. Come one down. You won't miss it.

 Then the purples come out.

And finally, the silhouettes etch themselves against the sky.