Pilgrimage

A journey (usually of a long distance) made to a sacred place as an act of religious devotion; the action or practice of making such a journey ("pilgrimage" The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd. ed. 1989).

My first journey to south central Utah took place shortly after we moved to Utah in the mid-1990s. We were settling into our first home and were still searching for things that made Utah a livable place. The west seemed strange to my Midwestern sensibility with its wide streets and narrow minds. I told some friends that I wanted to venture south, and was looking for the best place to visit. They told me in hushed tones of the beauty of Torrey, Utah and Capital Reef National Park. We left the next weekend, and were amazed, thinking we had left the state entirely and entered another world full of colors and shapes that were magical in intensity and size. This was the start of a love affair with the region, and the first of many pilgrimages.

We travel south in the border months of summer, when desert heat is more moderate. Driving, we descend through the heavily populated Wasatch front, leaving the interstate behind and entering the land of sparsely populated western towns each containing a church, abandoned buildings, and maybe a store or two. Traffic signs and billboards are replaced by cattle and sagebrush.  There is little more than a hint of color along the horizon as we climb the surrounding peaks and valleys before approaching the park. Suddenly, goblin formations peek shyly around the nearby hilltops, followed by longer redder fortresses as scenery explodes in color and texture.

A vast collection of photos capture the many trips we’ve made over nearly twenty years of travels to the region, with our children’s development measured alongside caves, sinks, and other formations that make the landscape so memorable. We’ve brought friends and relatives to this sacred spot. All visitors unfold from the five hour car ride astounded that something so wonderful could be found at the end of such mundane travel.

Over the ages, we’ve developed rituals that we attend to on arrival. Meals, lodging, and hikes that must be completed to properly in the correct order to pay homage to the land. We stay in cabins, hike to the gorilla rock, and dine on prosciutto, cheese, olives, bread, and wine, after dusk on the first night of our trip. Most days activities involve one or more hikes followed by quiet time and a nice meal. We almost always visit  a wash, or river for at least one of the hikes, and usually find time for one final trek on the last day before folding ourselves back in the car for the long journey home.

For us, our visits to Capital Reef represent a pilgrimage to the ancient elders of rock, sand, and sky who impart the knowledge of the ages on us through their ability to both change and remain constant. Like us, our children embark on their own journeys, first as mere ideas, soon emerging from the womb to be carried across the countryside. Each year they hike farther and breathe in the colors and shapes more deeply as they mature. They approach each new and familiar path willingly walking as we climb from noble arch to golden throne. Soon they will lead our trek. I cannot imagine a future where their pilgrimage will not continue long after we are gone.