Things in the distance are bigger than they seem

One thing that keeps hitting me is the sheer scale of this place. Stuff that looks like it can't be that large, takes about twice as long to reach as you think it might. It requires a constant recalibration of your distance perception: each time you think you've got a handle on the size of something, then as you get closer find it's on a completely different scale than you first thought, the reaction is almost physical. Here in Arches National Park, it becomes even more apparent. Take these two pictures I took yesterday. They both have the same outcrop in them, but taken from opposite directions about 3 miles apart. I've highlighted the outcrop in the first picture so you can really see the scale involved. Click to enlarge.

Mental note, must try harder to frame photographs to give sense of scale.

The park itself is typically well structured, like the other national parks I've come across so far, requiring about $10 to get in. Arches has a well paved road snaking it's 18 mile way through the landscape including handy car park and viewpoints for the major features. Handy if you're a tourist on the conveyor belt, but after a while it can feel a bit processional joining the queue of people dutifully following the route (that's rOOt not rOWt) and taking the same pictures.

I skipped stopping after the first few (maybe it's the coachload of japanese tourists with more cameras than people that tipped me over the edge) and just drove to the Devils Garden end of the park where I set off on the 'Primitive Loop', a semi-marked 'difficult hiking' trail snaking it's 7 mile way into and around some spectacular formations, fins, spires and arches. I'm so glad I did as it seemed anathema to the hordes to actually get off the beaten track. I only passed three other walkers going the opposite way round, like me, all mad English in the midday sun.

Check out the slideshow here

As the park is open 24/7, later in the evening I came back and found myself a quiet spot to watch the sun go down and stars come out with only cicadas for company. From the sun dropping below the horizon to the last glow smoothing into night takes about 2 hours. There's something very peaceful about being under such massive skies with no-one around for miles.