Journal of Michael Baum / Travels of an Artist

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Butler Wash and San Juan River, Southeast Utah
Watercolors of the San Juan Canyon

"Distant Buttes 2", Michael Baum
Distant Buttes, Michael Baum, WC, 3" x 4"

Haystack rock on Hwy 191, Michael Baum
Looks like a.....(photo) Michael Baum


Me and Terry Lee, Patrice Rhoades-Baum
Me and Terry Lee (photo by Patrice Rhoades-Baum)


Tuesday, 4/24/07, continued

  The heat of the south-facing rock is getting to me. I've either drunk or used most of my remaining water to wet the paint. I climb down the rock and start upstream, soon meeting up with the others returning from their adventures. I hear stories of climbing moki steps hewn into the vertical rock and an abundance of potsherds scattered over the ground. We hike back to the cars. On the way, I think I spot an ancient track-way petrified in the stone at my feet. Four footprints of some large animal. The spacing is right, but the tracks are so eroded that no clear features come through. They are vaguely footprint shaped. How old is the rock? Does it date to a time when a creature could have made the tracks? 

After an early dinner back at the Twin Rocks Cafe, we say goodbyes to the rest of the group and Patrice, Paul, and I head north bound for Moab. We are hiking a trail near Moab tomorrow morning, so want to be close tonight. As Patrice drives, Paul and I take photos. I get some unexpectedly good stuff in the evening evening light.

Semi on Hwy 191, Michael Baum
  The great western highway
Likely painting in here somewhere (photo) Michael Baum

In Moab, we check into a nice Super 8 (not always an oxymoron). Patrice relaxes while Paul and I drive the main drag searching for malts. We end up at Hogi Yogi, a place we've been before. Last year, on our way Grand Gulch, we stopped here for malts. they had no idea what a malt is. Man, that makes me feel old.

This time, we just ask for shakes. After a long wait, we get them. "It's nice to know some things never change" Paul says. We cruise down the street, windows down, sipping milk shakes, feeling fine. The evening is warm and humid. It plunges us into remembrances of the wild nights in our youths somewhere way east of here. Kids are tearing up and down the street hollering out open windows in the prime of their wild youths, fantasies of mountain biking over slick-rock terrain and making love to beautiful biking girls unreeling in their mind's private screening room. We head back to our room and dream.

Rock Art, Patrice Rhoades-Baum  Patrice on Moki Steps, Paul Hanke photo  Rock Art, Michael Baum  San Juan Canyon, Michael Baum



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