Goblins in the Sun

Short Version:
Goblins, mining, sunbathing

Long Version:
Goblin Valley State Park is in the middle of nowhere, assuming that nowhere is an area in mid-eastearn Utah.

The goblins for which it is named are humanoid stone features, wind- and water-carved and ranging in size from small human child to Godzilla. Actually, we saw one that was shaped a lot like Godzilla, about an hour-and-a-half into our wanderings through the valleys where these truly bizarre constructs form, exist, and then eventually crumble into nothingness. Weird, and definitely wonderful.

We stopped for the night at Temple Mountain, which was in the mid-twentieth century the site of a thriving uranium mining endeavour, and a sizeable township which had grown up around its pits. Little remains save occasional half-concealed holes in the ground, tumbled support timbers which have cracked and splintered, and broken pieces of concrete lying at strange angles to one another near rusting plumbery.

The sun was shining, and tiny lizards were basking in its radiance. We followed their example, and judging from the protracted staring from the dirtbikers who blatted past, we weren't quite what they'd expected to see amidst the ruined ghost-town. Actually, they were probably just checking Nene out - I certainly was.