Arches here we come

That's Delicate Arch - the most recognizable of the arches at Arches National Park. And in the expanse of the arch is my husband, John. More on that later.

The first time we ventured through southeastern Utah, we were on our way to Colorado. We spent several hours at the park before retreating to the air conditioning of our motel room. The next day we moseyed down the road (we had a schedule to keep. Now that we are older and wiser, we basically move in when we go on vacation).

During another trip, John announced he wanted to hike to Delicate Arch again, but this time with the express purpose of having his photo taken within its expanse. This may seem like a normal tourist thing to do for most people, but John is unlike most people. I practically have to twist his arm to let me take a picture. If I want to ask someone else to take our photo together - well that just about tips him over the edge. I'm surprised out wedding vows didn't include a provision that outlined the specific parameters of when photographs are to be taken of John.

Anyway, since he actually wanted his photo taken, I was game for it. Even though I had been to Delicate Arch before, after we'd been hiking in the sweltering heat for way too long, my head starts thinking, "Are we there yet." Honestly, I didn't recall the terrain being like this and certainly it wasn't this long. But then again, I often don't recall details about the season finale of one of my favorite shows by the time the next season's premiere arrives.

When we made a turn and the arch came into view, I suddenly realized the last time I had seen the arch, it was from a lookout viewpoint. I had not been up close and personal with the arch before. I realized the shower I took before we left was a waste of time and natural resources. That's fine - I got the photo. Because John is so minuscule, you'll just have to trust me that it really is him.

Another hiking story in Arches bears telling. This was a solo hike. Often when we go to Moab, John goes mountain biking at Slickrock first thing in the morning. The routine is, he gets up, melts into the morning and then about 30 minutes before he wants to leave he wakes me up so I can drive him to the drop-off point.

I am not a morning person and detest this, but what do you do? Anyway, one morning I told John I was going to head to Arches and take some photos. Now, he knows me way too well. You know the saying, "What goes up, must come down?" Well, that may very well be true, but in my case - when climbing, going up is much, much easier. He told me not to get myself into a situation that he wouldn't' be there to coax me out of.

Well, as I headed to Double Arch on the relatively flat and sandy trail I was marveling at the beauty of the erosion-created structures. As I got closer to the arch, it called to me. I visualized a photo taken from the opening of one arch looking up into the other.

As you might have guessed, the Law of Tammy held true. It was much easier going up than coming down. In my defense, I must say this was before I had my knee replacement and I just didn't feel confidant putting all my weight onto my left leg. As I scrambled from left to right - trying to traverse down by only putting all my weight on my right leg, I thought back to the big-horned sheep I watched perched on small outcroppings along I-70 between Denver and Vail. They moved with grace and ease.

Well, a bighorn sheep, I wasn't. However, I became a spectacle similar to those creatures as a family began watching me. Grandpa and granddaughter were hiking in my near vicinity, while grandma stood below video-taping them. Soon, I realize grandma is video-taping me. And she continued to video tape me as grandpa rescued me.

I'm sure grampa's version of the rescue included additional bravado, but whatever, at least I didn't have to have a park ranger come or worse fall. So, when I returned to the motel, I was none the worse for wear and refrained from telling John about my little misadventure. It wasn't until he read about it in our Christmas letter that he found out.