Arches

Short Version:
Twisted, gnarled, contorted rocks. Squealing. Clean! (but only half in a good way)

Long Version:
The nice Ranger at the gate wasn't very good at shaving, and he told us that the water that had been dumped on our campsite overnight was, as we spoke, rushing towards the Park though a series of usually-dry gullies called washes. This meant that one of the Park's big drawcards, the Delicate Arch, was inaccessible until further notice. Rats.

Still, plenty more to see:
- The Three Gossips: Three towering towers of stone, looking for all the world like three people sharing illicit informations
- The Garden of Eden: Indescribably contorted stone formations
- The Windows: We breakfasted here, beneath these two enormous eye-like arches. Our exploratory hike up to Turret Arch was great, and Lovely Wife set the standard for being photographed with this type of stone feature by balancing on one leg and waving her arms around. My attempts to provide an equally-impressive spectacle at the North Window were thwarted by a) The fat Amerikan woman who followed me around like she had me tethered on one of those coiled spring-like leashes usually employed to restrain the wanderings of handbag dogs or small evil children and b) my inability to stand on one leg without falling over
- The Double Arch: The wind whipping through from the north meant we didn't spend as much time as we otherwise might have taking in the views in both directions from this extraordinary combination of horizontal and vertical spans
- Salt Valley: Crazy-looking place which - unsurprisingly - reminded us of Dominion Salt at the Mount (Hi Dominion Salt!)
- The Devil's Garden: Here we spent several hours, hiking up through a valley surrounded on all sides by twisted and gnarled rocks. We saw the enormous Landscape Arch, but only from a distance, as it has a tendency to become larger every so often by shedding big chunks of its rocky self. Partition Arch was our definite highlight, with major and minor windows providing amazing views out over yet more strange rock forms. Double O Arch was very cool also, although the crow that was performing aerobatic trickery through the gaps refused to do so when the camera was out. Bastardo.
We hiked back to the Reaper via the Primitive Trail, which was a little-used cairn-marked trail through the desert, from which we managed to lose ourselves mildly a couple of times. At one point we found ourselves walking down a steep face of slickrock, and Lovely Wife discovered the hard way that not only were my hiking boots better at gripping the stuff than her offroad running shoes, but also that said shoes provide more grip on said rock when the soles are not caked with sand.

The Reaper's wheel squeal was louder and more insistent on the drive into town, so we had a drink with the Invermerans to dull our senses. Just as well we did, because when we stole showers at the fancypants campground they were inhabiting, there was no hot water forthcoming from the spigot in the shower stall I'd selected, which combined nicely with the lack of soap, shampoo, or conditioner in my toiletries bag to form an overall shower experience which fell somewhat short of expectations. Luckily, Lovely Wife had been able to luxuriate in boundless hot water over on the so-called Ladies' side of the ablutions block, so one of us, at least, was happy and pleasant-smelling as we drove, wheel squealing all the way, out past the cliff-hanging roadside campspot of our first Moab night and down into the tortuously-convoluted Hunter Canyon below, where we camped illicitly near where the road fords the river, rising early to make ourselves scarce before any relevant authorities put in an appearance.