An Afternoon in Arches National Park with Edward Abbey

Also: ravens, ancient junipers, lizards, mule deer, and cowardly tech bros

We’ve been on the road for two months, and this is the latest we’ve ever been in Moab. In midwinter, the town of 5,300 retains its old-time charms, which, according to locals, are trampled by tourism and unhinged luxury development during the rest of the year.

The region is otherworldly, with red rock landscapes straight from old westerns. The terrain is good for my soul but not for the sensitive tendons on either side of my ankles.

My posterior tibialis, interior peroneals, and retinaculum have long been my Achilles (pun intended). I’ve never sprained an ankle, but these tendons are susceptible to twisting trails. (Neither boots nor orthotics help.) The pain is short-lived if treated but excruciating. Think of a nail stabbing the inside or outside of your lower ankle.

On our quest to complete New Hampshire’s 48 4,000-footers in eleven weeks during our first summer of hiking, Atticus and I did quite well until our next-to-last hike. It was the 14-mile round-trip to Mount Isolation, which involved multiple stream crossings, that I first aggravated these tendons. My massage therapist introduced me to Gua sha, a traditional Chinese medicine technique that involved scraping the tendons with a wooden spoon.

Our final hike was a 23-mile in-and-out trek over Bondcliff, Bond, and West Bond, the final three peaks on our list, turning into a marathon and tortured limp.

When inflamed, I treat my feet with ice water soaks and ice cup massages, and I can at least walk without a limp in a couple of days.

With its red slickrock, Moab wreaks havoc on these three tendons and every year, I need to take a day or two off. Yesterday was day one, and I spent more time with my feet in ice water than walking in parking lots.

Steep rocks and cliffs surround Moab, and there is nowhere to take a leisurely flat walk in nature. Every outing is a hike.

In past years, we used to hike in the morning and escape to a rolling dirt road for relief in the evening. I just learned yesterday that it has a name, Willow Springs Road. It is not made for passenger cars but for off-road vehicles. In the past, we’d drive a quarter mile in, park, and began walking. The road twists and turns, is uneven as can be, carries you past dinosaur tracks, and on the far end, it has a secret. It is a free way into Arches National Park and deposits you at Balanced Rock.