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Show PAGE 23 THE ZEPHYR APRIL 1994 tourists. We must ask if it is proper management of public land to be financed by the mass of taxpayers while providing service to a select few. Each of the above lines of thought seems to be leading to the "zone system" concept being pushed by some planners. It is an appealing idea but is hobbled by the cost of managing "backcountry" zones. Shouldn't the user be willing to pay his share of a premium experience? Some would say that a premium-pric- e zone discriminates able .less to those as a friend of mine but, pay, against pointed out, that is nothing more discriminatory than restricting access to the fittest hikers or to the earliest to make reservations. Unfortunately, the easy solutions to controlling throngs of solitude seekers are either immoral or illegal. . On the Way to Delicate Arch Wash. By Martin Murie We sort ourselves-c- ar the trail, glad to cross people and the tour bus crowd-alo- ng and it A leave behind. young couple takes the lead. They are talking bleak Salt Creek p, non-stonever out of breath. Their quick, glancing German dissolves each to other, in the warm desert air behind their hurry. Gradually, the rest of us fall silent, intent on the job. So, here I am, in the herd, grudgingly, then not minding, then having a good time. I will share in this concerted assault on a Natural Wonder. I have disappeared in the swarm spewed forth by Industrial Tourism. We swarmers are dressed and fed, tranquilized and transported by mighty capitalists snugly bunkered in Frankfort, Tokyo, Amsterdam, London, New York. It's okay to spout like this, here in Utah's Canyonlands, Ed Abbey country, as long as you stick to the truth, ("...tell the truth, they never believe you." Desert Solitaire .) The trail turns and steepens. We walk on bare rock. Sound of shoes. Sounds of people walking. The grungy parking lot and ugly National Park Service billboard are out of sight and sound. Alone and afoot, we are listening to each other's steps on unsigned desert surface. We are commodities, a short while ago, shipped along the Interstates like market steers. In greater comfort no doubt, but shipped, just the same. Tagged, invoiced, destined. Now, here, we are by ourselves, suddenly on the loose, out of reach. We've found a break in the fence. We are making our own straggly and unguided way over bare, unfamiliar rock. Does anyone else feel the escape? I have no idea. I report only a few of the facts that make up this particular walk to the wonder. The trail hugs the ridge more tightly; it must end soon, around the next few sudden-Delic- ate Arch. It rears high, massively, rounded comers. cutting for itself a large, lopsided segment of blue. Not delicate. Not disappointing. Mighty pleasing. Again, we sort ourselves, finding footing and viewpoints: Gritty sounds of shoes, very little conversation. A few cameras come into play. I see no posted notice, no arrows, and feel like bowing three times toward Park Headquarters, in gratitude. The two young German speakers have separated; he sits on his haunches, his back against warm rock; she walks ever so deftly along a sloping surface of the arch's left bastion. There is much to take in. Texture and light have marvelous playing places. There are dramas of force and balance. There is an amphitheater, distorted and complex, huge miniature of the universe. Hasty contemplation is what we are doing here; deep meditation is not on; this is a crowd scene. But who would want to meditate, in the face of such grand surfaces? schedules have a hold on each of us. It is my It's over soon. Tight world-linke- d impression that we leave with some minimal show of grace. We trail back, passing two of our own; stragglers, two women, resting on rocks. One asks. "How much ever-growi- ng further?" Her companion is breathing hard, but her eyes are lively and she has a stubborn look. "You're about half way," I say. "Oh no! Hey, you're supposed to encourage us." They are smiling, but they mean it and I am sorry. "Right." I say, "and I'm not much good at estimating distance. You're probably more than half way. The trail is good, all the way. No problems." - "Is it worth itr "Yes, and the trail gets more interesting. Go for it." Across Salt Creek the bus is loading, cars are pulling out Was it worth it? I visited other arches that day. They were great but Delicate Arch stays number one. Hard to say why. I hope those two stubborn laggards made it and were not disappointed. Did they curse the Park Service for not providing better access? Maybe. Maybe not My guess is that they did see the arch and by then everybody else had gone and they had it to themselves. Their memoirs would be different, for sure. Still, they were a part of that particular herd of duly authorized pilgrims walking a very mild --and exceedingly short and unrecorded-breako- ut. And may the road stay forever dead-ende- d at Salt Me MEgtSK TOURS & ROCK SHOP Dinosaur bone 600 N. Main St. Fossils Minerals 259-73- 12 There-appropria- tely I Robin , what has become of our Heather? there's tHbcrfUier? miss her too, Big Brother . Gents |