Two tickets to ride

Blue skies and an open road is the recipe for using our fun tickets to explore the visual delights of spring time in the waste land. Deserts are awash in color and sunshine. Leaving the confines of a full pool to splash in, we head west on an interstate and then south along the Virgin River, past stretches of sun splashed ranch houses and tightly trimmed green fields until the road continues away from the flowing brownish muddy waters and over and into the arid desolation.

Inhabitants of the vehicle have been freshly fed and hydrated and are joyously bouncing along the path before us. These New horizons are being viewed for the first time on the advice of friends who've instructed us, vaguely, about the area in which we now find ourselves.

The road, though paved, is rough and bouncy and after we pass an oasis of large green bushes, cottonwood trees and palm trees. The gate on the entrance road is adorned with a small American flag and a sign claiming the “Zika Virus” is in residence. Apparently these folks are not looking for visitors or neighbors.

A few more jaunty miles south along the road we come to a fork claiming that to the west is a fishermans bay on the large expanse of blue in the distance. We remain on the southern route staying high and dry and soon view many cacti in full ruby bloom interspersed with the yellow spring flowers that adorn the rocks and rills. Barrel cactus spring up on the hillsides and large paddle cactus promise even more impending blooming buds.

Out of the floor of the blanket of bush, sage and sand rises monoliths of sandstone in shades of pink, orange and rusty red, sailing like ships among the vegetation. We're surrounded by seas of golden asters and banks of yellow brittle bush. I've never seen the sagebrush blossom so abundantly as this year incentivized by heavy precipitation of the last winter season.

We stop to cavort among the bluffs to determine their mysteries. How does a butte stick up in the expanse and then repeat itself a dozen times in ever undulating shapes and sizes We run, hike and amble through the cracks and crevices until we gain a foothold on the face. We make our trip to the top to get a look at the surrounding area. Grand vistas of colored rock, flattop mesas, and arid mountainsides all flush with desert blossoms.

Who's been constructing cement cisterns and pipe works from cement dams that contain no water? Holdovers from many years and dreams ago, I've surmised. What imagination and probably survival skills were employed. Exploration of the monoliths reveals more nooks and crannies of all sorts and sizes where enterprising souls have constructed even more structures that bears no resemblance of anything I recognize.

The sun, while ever present is bright but the temperature is not hot as a cool breeze blows to make this expedition an ideal enterprise. The afternoon hour soon makes our time to return weigh heavy and we filter back to our trusty truck. After a last longing look at the peaceful landscape it's time to board and begin our descent back into the rigors of hasty civilization. The trek is slow and measured as to not be introduced to the Gods of electric lights and traffic snarl too soon. The distance is covered in too short of time and too short of wilderness bliss.

We pause at the stop sign before the highway to bid a fond adieu then turn the tires toward home. Another few precious moments spent to sooth the savage hearts beating inside our urban breasts.