Should've Known Better

Driving and camping around Moab, Sufjan's Carrie and Lowell became our soundtrack for the trip.  It started with my friend humming Sufjan in the kitchen before we left.  This quickly turned into playing his album more than three times along the red dusty roads of the canyons of Utah.  We also created our own narrative along with the tune:

Should've staked my tent down
before the storm came in...

...Lightning strike
Nothing can be changed
the past is in the past
My tent is up in flames...

...Illumination...

We only lost a canopy.  Thanks to the kindness of our camping neighbors, my tent was held down with rocks they had put in it after they had seen it blow away.  They saved our canopy canvas, but the bars were crushed by the wind.

Michael crushing the remains, so we can put it in the car. 

This storm had come in quickly.  Just as the light from the sunset was fading out on Delicate Arch, a strong gust of wind stormed in from the Northwest.  Thunder boomed and a stroke of lightning shot across the sky.  I called to my friends and we began running down the bald rock ridge as lightning shot above us from time to time.

"We've gotta get off this ridge!  Go, go, go!"

"Where's the fire?" said the people we sped passed, strolling down the mountain.

All I could think of was (1) Get off the ridge (2) Take lightning position.  Luckily, we had a car to drive us out of there.  Off went we drove, through the raging winds and rain above us, the sky lit up by daggers of electricity.

Right before things got crazy.

The next day we decided to take the scenic route to Canyonlands.  Luckily, I pictured a relaxing photogenic drive and not this terrifying footpath of a road.

Assumptions can protect you from worry without you realizing.

Four wheel drive was encouraged on the sign, but we continued forward in our Toyota Camry.  Rough gravel and potholes seemed a bit precarious but we kept driving.  The road continued to gain elevation and soon we were teetering on the skinniest red muddy road, clinging to the sides of the canyon walls.  We had been warned about an area where there was "rock and road, and it was steep" according to a person we had stopped along the way.  But he encouraged us saying, "But I've seen people make it!"

Oh good.

A tiny road of switchbacks brought us out of the canyon, while Billy Holiday and other jazz tunes played on - except for the last part, where silence seemed the only tune we could embrace.  Meanwhile, we prayed to God that our car would make it (the entire time).  My fear kept me from taking photos or videos.  Two hours later, we made it to Dead Horse point - alive (!) - where the sun was shining and we could take a look at the dark canyon road we had just traversed.

Along the switchbacks, in the car.

There's our road!

Canyonlands

We were able to enjoy a bit of a sunset, though it didn't light up the rocks as it did the night before.  The light is able to change everything, making dark canyons beautiful.

Back we drove to Salt Lake City, where we slept like the rocks we had just seen.

Thank you, Moab.