Moab Trip Part Four: Return to Dead Horse
In Fall 2020, I visited Dead Horse State Park for the first time to watch the sunrise. I was speechless and a little emotional seeing the landscape turning from black to vibrant reds and browns with an accent of green of the Colorado River. When I planned this 16-day trip, Dead Horse was the first place I wanted to return to in Moab, but this time to watch the sunset.
When giving Moab recommendations to people, Dead Horse is my first suggestion; I even provide directions on how to get there (head towards Canyonlands, Island in the sky, on Hwy 191 N, make the first left on that road, and you will see the state park!) I came across this park through Instagram, and I was stunned it was a state park when it looked more like a national park. To be honest, I love Canyonlands, and they have some stunning views, but I really think Dead Horse has them beat! Dead Horse embodies what makes the southwest desert so astonishing: the vastness, the layers, the colors, the softness yet jaggedness.
But I did wonder how this gorgeous park obtained such a dark name. The legend of Dead Horse Point originates around the turn of the 19th century when cowboys would round up the wild mustangs that roamed the mesa. A herd was driven down the neck of the peninsula, its sheer cliffs forming a natural corral, and the 30-foot-wide entrance was fenced off with branches and brush. For reasons unknown, the herd was left or forgotten. After a period with no food or water, they succumbed to the harsh desert elements, with the Colorado River in view 2,000 feet below. It is rumored those horses can be seen and heard still roaming the area.
When I was at Dead Horse before, there was a rock that looked like a throne, and I was hoping no one was sitting on it this time so I could enjoy the sunset. To my complete surprise, no one was on it! Score! I set up my little picnic and tried to enjoy my food peacefully. Well, that was short-lived. As I was trying to eat, I had kids and adults climbing behind me to get a picture on this same rock as I sat there. I was getting fed up with people as they were getting fed up with me (I was there just minding my own business, thank you very much). I finally said I would move so you could get a picture. They said thank you. This was a bad idea because now everyone and their mother wanted to be on this rock. This other family pushed themselves on this rock as I sat back down. I moved again, and they decided to take a photoshoot for 10 minutes.
Here's a little lesson: If someone is trying to enjoy their moment of peace, don't be an ass and stand above them to get your shot. Maybe find another place for your pictures or ask that person if it's okay.
I commented about this to the guy beside me who had his daughter with him. We started an entire two-hour conversation about my travels, his travels, life, Utah (since he is from Utah), and everything. He is the one who recommended I go to Goblin State Park on my way to Capitol Reef.
During our conversation, the sun started to make its descent. There was a jagged cliff where I was sitting to the right; you see the horseshoe bend of the Colorado River. At this point, the sky and the rocks started to change colors, and the sky began to turn different shades of blue and purple with a little bit of yellow and orange from the sun. The rocks near me started turning browner to blue, reflecting the sky, while the Colorado River turned from its signature green to milky cream.
There were multiple times I had to stop the conversation just to enjoy the show that was happening. Every minute the sky was dramatically changing colors. I swear I took 500 photos during and post-sunset, trying to capture the reality. It's a natural talent to get a good picture of Mother Nature's work.
I kept talking to the guy and his daughter for another 20 minutes after sunset. We exchanged Instagram handlers and still talk occasionally. I returned to my campsite to find that my tent had decided to fly into a bush next to the Colorado River thanks to a really horrible wind. Once I got my tent back in place, I tried to snuggle in for the night, but the wind was relentless, which should have given me a clue that the next day, my birthday, I would be an exhausted human before I even started the next leg of my trip: Goblin Valley and Capitol Reef National Park.