WENT TO MEET THREE PATRIARCHS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT
I’m leaving Las Vegas. Driving on an endless, empty stretch of the Interstate 15 highway. It’s 7am on a bright Sunday morning and I’m pretty much the only car around. My temples are pounding. A few cans of beer from yesterday’s Supercross races are still lodged in my head as I drive north away from Sin City, towards Zion.
The radio is set on SeriumXM as a familiar tune comes up to haunt me;
I’m Leaving Las Vegas
Lights so bright
Palm sweat, blackjack
On a Saturday night
Leaving Las Vegas
Leaving for good, for good…
I sing along though I know I’m lying. I’ll be back in Vegas before the day’s over. Even worse, I’ll be in Vegas more times than I’d like. Some folks say they love this looney town. As for me, I can’t stand it. And yet, work is work, and my job will take me there again. Friends will surely envy, and I’ll have to tell them once more that “the best thing about the pace is the road back to McCarran Airport”. They would all look at me with that same gaze they always do, thinking I’m lying.
Then, a tire pressure warning light flashes over my rental’s instrument panel.
In the middle of the road from Vegas to nowhere
I curse the gods of the rental car industry as I scan the empty horizon for a Gas Station. Nothing like a busted tire in the middle of the outback to dial your priorities back to survivability.
I wanted to pull over to a gas station that looked like a scene right out of Bagdad Café. Unfortunately, the one I did stopped in looked as romantic and special as a BigMac with a side order of fries. Just another Copy/Paste major-brand station with a convenience shop and a working (Hoorah!) air pump.
“Has my trip ended sooner than planned?” I thought to myself as I headed out to check the tires. Much to my relief all were fine except for one that was just a tiny bit low on air. Relieved by the finding, I filled up the tire, got back to the driver seat and backed the car in reverse… straight onto a steel metal pole.
CRUNCH! I feel my stomach convulses as I hear the sound of the crumpling metal jars the car into a holt. The guy leaving the convenience store looks at me and at the car with his jaw wide open. DAMN!
Right there and then I hit a moment of clarity. Sometimes it’s good to have a rented car, especially one with a contract that includes complete coverage from $0. That “sometimes” time had surely come that morning. I would have been heartbroken to see that completely unnecessary ugly, big dent appearing on my own private wheels. Instead, I just shrugged, went back in, slamming the door behind me, and drove off back into the Nevada desert.
Outside Pearly Gates
“34 Dollars”, says the elderly ranger at the entrance. Apparently getting inside the promised land isn’t cheap. But is it worth it? As I’ll soon find out, Zion – or in its more formal name Zion National Park – is a formidable place of beauty and grandeur.
I drive inside the park in full-blown foliage. The golden-colored leaves of peak season against the Canyon rust-hued cliffs make for an intoxicating mix of.
It is as if the whole place rings familiar. At once I fall back to the memory of my Yosemite’s fall-weekend the previous decade. There’s one difference, however. While Yosemite national park on November 1st was dead empty, In Zion there’s not a single parking place left. Where did all these people come from?
No time to think. I have a three-hour drive back and a plane to catch back to California later that evening. I park like a complete Schmock on the side of the road, relieved in the knowledge that there at least 40 other cars that are easier to tow out than mine and run to grab the park trolley. The system, I have to admit, works pretty good with frequent service to chauffeured discerning hikers from one point of interest to the other. I drop off at the Three Patriarchs station.
At the Court of the Patriarchs
Zion National Park may not resemble “real” Zion. It’s dry, serene and grand. It does, however, play very well to biblical themes, and the Court of the Three Patriarchs is probably the best example. The Utah version of Abraham, Isaac and, Jacob are three massive sandstone cliffs jutting straight out of the slowly flowing river beneath them. Being watched by them is understanding what an ant must feel watching human namesakes… minus the threat of being stepped upon, of course.
Zion is a beautiful place. Words simply cannot do justice to it. No matter if you drive through it or traverse it by foot, the sheer rock formations above you will leave you searching for the right adjectives. One thing you DO need for Zion is time.
And my time was up.
If a great experience is one that leaves you with a taste for more, this place has been nothing but fabulous. Unfortunately, four hours are simply not enough to even start exploring the place. So I had to do with a small nibble this time. I get back to the car happy to find it un-toed and un-fined (and discover I left the whole window open and no one bothered taking anything out). And start the long empty journey back to Vegas.
As drive away from the park’s gate, I turn my head back and utter Schwarzenegger’s famous words, “I’ll be back!”