Wanderlust: Canyonlands National Park

[If you missed Part 1 of our end-of-year trip, you can find it here.]

On day 3 of the trip (Wednesday), we made our first exploration of Canyonlands National Park. We decided to spend the middle (i.e. hottest part) of the day at our campsite, which, due to being a KOA, had a swimming pool. After that siesta hour of sorts, we headed to Canyonlands for the late afternoon and evening. First stop, Mesa Arch.

Canyonlands, like Arches National Park, has, well, arches. Just not as many. But what it does have in abundance is endless red rock canyons, stretching for what seems like forever into the distance. 

The only way you can tell the canyons don't last forever is because, if you look closely, you can see a faint glimmer of snow-capped peaks behind them.

For whatever reason, Canyonlands seems to be significantly less popular with the tourists than Arches. It's likely a combination of its larger size and farther drive from the interstate. But we found it to be dramatically underrated.

After Mesa Arch, we did several other short hikes, savoring the evening coolness and comparative solitude.

One of our mini-expeditions took us to Upheaval Dome, a 3-mile-wide, 1000-foot-deep crater.

The funny thing about Upheaval Dome is that no one really knows how it was formed. The general consensus is that it was caused by one of two things: pressure from a salt deposit left behind by an inland sea, or instability from a meteor crash.

After a picnic supper, we hiked up Whale Rock (the perfect vantage point) and settled in to watch the sunset.

Back rub chain amidst fierce wind.

On Thursday morning, we packed everything up and departed Moab. Since we had spent Wednesday exploring the Island in the Sky region of Canyonlands, we wanted to spend some time in the Needles region on Thursday. We settled on a hike called Slickrock trail, thusly named because most of the trail traversed smooth, vast, gently sloping swaths of sandstone. 

I didn't take any pictures on this hike. I'm prone to feeling that excessive photo-taking can actively distract me from the actual experience, so I make a point to take some time away from my phone in situations like these. It helps me to fully appreciate the place for what it is and what it makes me feel...avoiding the desperation of trying and failing to capture it on a screen.

But still, pictures are nice, so here's one I grabbed from the ProTrails website. You're welcome.

http://www.protrails.com/gallery/35/utah/canyonlands-national-park/slickrock-foot-trail#image-2

After that hike, we said goodbye to Utah and continued to the next segment of the trip. Part 3 coming soon...

Wanderlust: Grand Junction & Arches National Park

As you may recall from last year's adventuring, each Service Adventure unit goes on an end-of-year trip toward the end of the time together. Kind of a last hurrah. This year, we planned a trip to western Colorado and eastern Utah, including 4 national parks: Arches, Canyonlands, Mesa Verde, & Great Sand Dunes.

On Monday, we drove from the Springs to Grand Junction, making a quick stop at a quaint little park along the way to eat our packed lunches. I was driving, so I don't have any pictures of the incredible scenery along the way, but it was all the likes of this.

Van + housemates for scale.

Quick romp around the playground before getting back in the car.

We made it to Grand Junction, just east of the Utah border, and walked down the street to check out the Colorado River.

We camped overnight and spent the next morning exploring the city a bit. Some of us visited the Museum of the West, which in my opinion is well worth the time. It's an homage to the quintessential Wild West (saloons, gunslingers, mining, outlaws), but it also delves into the cultures of oft-overlooked native people groups (the Aztecs, Utes, Pueblo, Navajo, & Anasazi). The museum also had a tower with a great view of the whole city and the surrounding mountains.

After lunch, we loaded up and drove to Utah. 

Thus ensues a long stretch of me trying and failing to capture the beauty of the changing scenery around me through a car window.

This whole trip was so visually striking that I spent a lot of the car time just staring out the window. 

I got like zero reading done.

In general, for everything I share from this week's trip, it would be best for you to just operate under the assumption that everything was 20 times more beautiful than it looks from any of the pictures.

Anyway, we made it to Arches National Park and spent parts of the next two days exploring. By night we camped in Moab, and by day we tried our hardest to adjust to the grueling heat of the desert.

Temperatures were in the mid-90s each day and in case you are unaware, shade is hard to come by in this type of situation.

 

It was almost ludicrously gorgeous though, so I'm not complaining.

The top center rock formation in this photo is Delicate Arch, arguably Utah's most famous arch. It's on the state license plate, anyway. This is as close as we got because the hike to get there was 2-3 hours long, and did I mention it was HOT.

But we did do a bunch of shorter hikes and overlooks.

To us, Arches felt a lot like Colorado Springs' Garden of the Gods, but just...more. More space, longer hikes, more of a desert, more interesting rock formations.

This is an area of Arches called the Fiery Furnace. Entering it is prohibited unless accompanied by a ranger (I believe this is intended to prevent guests from becoming lost and wandering to their death). 

I would have loved to see it up close, but they weren't offering any tours this week.

After our Arches adventures, we moved on to exploring Canyonlands. Stay tuned for Part 2!

Hope: A literary triad

Three snippets of poetry and prose have been circling in my mind lately. All three are about the work of being a good human, and how it can at times be tragic, difficult, and painful. And all three are about the persistent hope therein. 

May they stir in you as they do in me.

---

At the core of our animal beings, something is bleeding. If we stop and pay attention, we can feel the wound. In the wound lies the hope.

-Paul Kingsnorth, "The Axis and the Sycamore," Orion Magazine (full essay here)

---

Here is the world.

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.

Don't be afraid.

-Frederick Buechner

---

The Real Work

by Wendell Berry

It may be that when we no longer know what to do

we have come to our real work

and that when we know longer know which way to go

we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Musings on the second semester of grad school

Here's the thing:
I frickin' loved my budgeting class, y'all.

I think focusing on academic disciplines that other people find inherently horrible runs in my family. My mother has a PhD in theoretical mathematics. My sister is a chemistry major. My father is a financial adviser who enjoys reading about investments as a fun hobby, a fact I once found so hilarious that I laughed until tears ran down my face. And now I've completed a class called Public Budgeting and Finance, which I loved. I genuinely enjoyed using Excel to formulate a budget from a complex word problem. In other words, I am a huge nerd (a revelation that will likely astonish very few).

Actually, this family tendency may extend beyond academic disciplines, now that I think about it. My dad is also a marathon runner.

And while we're talking about weird changes that accompany grad school: "This final paper is only supposed to be ten pages, so it's really not that long" is an actual sentence that came out of my mouth the other week. The weirdest part is that it was true.

Life is surprising.

About two or three weeks before the end of the semester, my motivation tanked so dramatically, the whole experience can best be described as temporarily losing my mind. I forgot about everything. (Well, thankfully not the grade-producing assignments, but it was a near miss.) My conscious mind went on vacation. My critical thinking skills hopped a train to the beach, joyously entering summer mode, while the rest of me wandered aimlessly through the halls of my former routine, trying to remember how to book and laptop and research.

I attribute this phenomenon to a classic explanation: the disparity between expectations and reality. You see, I had come to believe that all my big assignments would be turned in by the end of April. But then a couple of unsolicited extensions came along. And then a couple of assignments I had forgotten about cropped up. And then it was the second week of May and I was still trying to schlep my weary self through the paces. Just another reminder that our disappointment and satisfaction usually have more to do with how our expectations jived with reality, and less to do with what actually happened.

Anyway, I'm now officially on break, academically at least. Another change that accompanied this semester was my dropping of the Nonprofit Management concentration. Upon realizing that I was enjoying my non-nonprofit-oriented classes this semester more than I anticipated (looking at you, Budgeting), I decided not to complete the NPM concentration and instead focus as broadly as possible. The Master of Public Administration degree will prepare me to work either in the nonprofit sector or another public organization, and since my work experience thus far is with nonprofits, I didn't want to limit my future prospects. I already have a bachelor's degree in a field I don't plan to work in. As fun as that is, I'm aiming not to do that with my master's.

The completion of this semester brings me to 18 credits: halfway to MPA. I'm looking at 1-2 summer classes (depending on how other job prospects post-Service Adventure pan out), 2-3 fall, and 2 the following spring, one of which will be my capstone project. I'll be graduating a year from now. In some ways, it feels like I've come to the halfway point extremely quickly: a year ago, I had only just decided which program I was going to enroll in. But when I think about how much I've learned and grown since August, it doesn't feel strange at all. Time is like that, I suppose.

Here's to the future, and to life's many surprises.

Photo update: Spring in CO

It's been a while since I've had time for a photo update, so here's another selection of highlights from the past three or four weeks. And by highlights, I mean highlights that I remembered to photograph.

We were in a rainy/snowy stretch for quite a while (typical Colorado spring weather), but it's mostly faded into gloriously warm and sunny days now. Thus, we've been making good use of our fire pit. Most recently, David and Marle showed us how to make stick bread.

A good friend in need of a post-semester project graciously decided to help me build a new (better) compost bin out of free pallets.

Now it looks like this.

I've been doing some sectional coaching with violin and viola students at a nearby middle school, and last Tuesday was their concert. I've never felt so proud while sitting in a junior high gym before.

At the Faith & Life Forum (an event of Mountain States Mennonite Conference at which Drew Hart was the featured speaker), we were given the opportunity to make lunch for everyone as a fundraiser for Service Adventure. Despite it being the first time any of us had cooked for a crowd, it turned out great.

Another weekend, we took a day trip to Denver to show the housemates around. This is the view from a walkway in the Denver Art Museum.

Sand mandala (also at the art museum).

Thread art.

It was a gorgeous day for lazing around in City Park in the middle of Denver.

And we stopped by Hammond's Candy Factory for the free tour too.

Tis the season for birthdays in the Service Adventure house. All four of the participants have birthdays within a month and three days: April 23-May 26. For Marle's, we went out for ice cream in our party hats.

For David's, we surprised him by cooking bacon for breakfast.

Now that it's warm -- and now that I'm on break between spring and summer semester -- this is my view most days. Porch time is an underappreciated blessing hearkening back to my college days living in Parkwood Apartments, and I'm so glad it's still a part of my life.

From my porch to yours -- happy Spring.

On inhabiting the darkness

I called Representative Lamborn this morning, as I so often do these days, this time to express my disappointment that the American Health Care Act passed through the House yesterday. And was met on the other end of the line by a mansplainer who interrupted me to tell me how I was wrong.

It was bound to happen eventually, I suppose. I'd just been so pleasantly surprised by the abundant friendliness and courteousness of all the other Lamborn staffers I've talked to.

I'm no stranger to mansplaining, but today it hits me harder than usual. Today, when yet another innocent brown child has just been senselessly murdered. When people with mental health conditions can have guns, but not health care. When our elected officials are sexual predators. When we're slowly killing our mother earth, and by extension, ourselves. When our vulnerable populations are voiceless. When our structures and systems are inherently violent toward marginalized communities.

I am just. so. angry.

In a season of springtime, of new life and new birth, I find myself still entrenched in the desolation of death and darkness.

While reflecting during Holy Week a few weeks ago, hearing again the story of the crowds clamoring for Jesus' crucifixion, I was wholly aware of how passionately we still riot for the death of goodness. We cry out for the murder of Christ in our world, here, today. And I wish I believed that we know not what we are doing.

On Easter morning, it felt like an extreme act of will to choose the joy of the resurrection. I feel so distant from the abundant hope and triumph of the living Christ. The weeping of the night is still in me and around me.

Today, on a gorgeous spring morning, I'm listening to this song, wanting so desperately to see the morning dawn.

If you, too, are spending this season in the night -- know that I am with you and for you.

Morning will come for us someday.