When I was working or going to
school, this was my favorite part of the day, when all the world seemed dark
and still. I’d make a cup of coffee and take it into my home office, where I
could begin writing and thinking without distraction. The first light appearing
outside the window seemed to wake up my brain as well. Before the sun rose
completely and the dog had to be walked, my work was well underway.
Since retiring I have found it
more pleasant to sleep late, knowing that there would be time during the day
for whatever I need to do. Today was an exception, though. When we arrived
yesterday at Utah’s Goosenecks State Park and saw the stunning sunset, we knew
sunrise would be wonderful as well. So, this morning I woke while the sky was
still dark, eager to see the sun appear over the hills to the east.
Goosenecks—what an odd name for
a beautiful landscape—gets its name from three loops of the San Juan River.
Geologists call this one of the world’s most spectacular examples of a
meandering, entrenched river. The campground is perched more than a thousand
feet above the river. Sheer drops of layered pink and siena sandstone and limestone
form the canyon walls; where some layers slope gradually downward, they have
accumulated some soil and are tinted grayish-green by sagebrush. At the top of
one wall, erosion has created a form resembling a Mayan pyramid. All these
layers have been exposed by upthrusts, so they now illustrate more than three
hundred million years of the past. All that time the river has continued its
meandering path through the uplifted area.
Though the park is open for day
use, only a few campsites are available, and can’t be reserved. However,
mid-March is cold enough to discourage many campers, enabling us to get a site
directly above one loop of the river.
Sunrise took only a few minutes,
illuminating some tall rocks in Monument Valley miles to the southwest as well
as the tops of the east-facing riverbanks below us. The sun’s rays were
reflected to the west-facing canyon walls as well. And by mid-morning the river
itself took on the colors of the sandstone walls. A lone rafter paddled down
the river, but all was quiet except for a few noisy crows flying above us. When
it was nearly noon and the sun was overhead, the placid, silt-laden river was
brightly lighted.
Later in the day, day-use
visitors arrived and threatened the silence, but they, too, were awestruck
enough to be quiet. It was another calm, beautiful day at Goosenecks.
