Castle Rock in Moab, UT known as 'Priest and Nuns'
I had never heard of Moab, Utah but my ranch guy knew every incredible diner, night stop, and geographical wonder along the way to California. Something about the name 'Moab' was more than enticing. I couldn't get it out of my mind. To Moab, to Moab wound itself into my thoughts as I drove. Then as I talked to friends and family others said, "Oh, Moab, you've got to see it." My friend Katie from Louisville now from Chicago said, "Moab! It's incredible. I was there with my father." How is it that I'd never heard of Moab yet it caused people to gasp and said, "You must," and "It's unbelievable!"
I had never heard of Moab, Utah but my ranch guy knew every incredible diner, night stop, and geographical wonder along the way to California. Something about the name 'Moab' was more than enticing. I couldn't get it out of my mind. To Moab, to Moab wound itself into my thoughts as I drove. Then as I talked to friends and family others said, "Oh, Moab, you've got to see it." My friend Katie from Louisville now from Chicago said, "Moab! It's incredible. I was there with my father." How is it that I'd never heard of Moab yet it caused people to gasp and said, "You must," and "It's unbelievable!"
If you have reason to be driving west on I70, you might, like me, think there would be no reason to turn off it. There's nothing along the way that teases you into suspecting the grandeur of Moab. I was watching for the turnoff onto South US-191/UT-128 and thought I'd missed it. Just passing exit 181 I saw out of the corner of my eye 'Moab' and an arrow. But it wasn't Crescent Junction and it wasn't US-191 but when you are driving for miles, without any much signage, no billboards saying IHop or Stuckeys, the question of turning around gets creepy.
Thank you to the USA and to each state for incredible rest stops. Every 50 or 100 miles or so, there are rest stops. It's a guiding light when you are out driving across the plains of our country. When there are no billboards, no turnoffs, nothing at all, knowing that you'd seen a sign a few miles back that said a rest stop was 38 miles ahead is like knowing there's a god. Things go through my mind like, "Even if something happened now, there's a rest stop coming." And, "There will be a soda machine at the rest stop if you're really thirsty." I banter back and forth with myself whether or not I really need to use the restroom. But all in all, it's a peaceful discourse all because, I'm here, in the USA, and there's always a rest top up the road.
About 8 miles before you reach Crescent Junction, there's a Utah Rest stop with a manned Info Counter. Do you believe that? Truly, in the middle of all the nothingness, there was a lovely man at a counter waiting for me! I said, "I think I missed the turn for Moab. I saw it on a sign last exit."
About 8 miles before you reach Crescent Junction, there's a Utah Rest stop with a manned Info Counter. Do you believe that? Truly, in the middle of all the nothingness, there was a lovely man at a counter waiting for me! I said, "I think I missed the turn for Moab. I saw it on a sign last exit."
"Oh no, you didn't," he smiled, "It's just up ahead at Crescent Junction. Then you take 128 south, drive 31 miles, and you'll see Moab." Then he added, "You wouldn't want to have taken that route. It's two lanes, nothing more, right on the edge. Curves. A big curve near Moab. You miss it, you drive right over into the Colorado River. I wouldn't recommend it."
Well, you don't have to hit me in the head with a stone. (Get it, stone, Moab, all kinds of red rock:)
I took 128 south. It's 31 miles of nothing. Some brush and more nothing. Scary, like you wouldn't want to run out of gas or stop for a picnic lunch. My guess would be snakes out there. But the enticing image of Moab was keeping me going. And I got there. Entering Moab you cross the Colorado River (of course) and drive straight into the cutest little Moab of a town. Filled with rock stores and galleries and a great bookstore - don't miss it - http://www.backofbeyondbooks.com/ that invites you to meander and read and enjoy the experience of books. But where in the world was the real Moab? The Moab I was lusting for?
Turned my little Miata around, stopped at the visitors center (don't you just hope there are visitors centers along the way to heaven), where a lovely lady pulled out a map and showed me the way to the Priest and Nuns at Castle Rock. She kind of scratched the path onto the map. No ink in that pen. Hey Hilton or Marriott, how about sending some pens to the Moab Visitors Center?!
So, head back towards the river, and just before it, right before you cross that river, stop. Turn right and enter the real Moab. To Moab, to Moab. Surrounded by Sears Tower tall red rock, on both sides of the narrow road, little pull off areas, where I sat and swallowed in all that Moab is. Yes, I found the Priest and Nuns, but I kind of think it should be renamed, 'Town Hall,' but be that as it may, this is an exquisite place. There's nowhere to stay along 128, in the midst of all that rock. No hotels, or diners. Which seems appropriate. But I didn't want to stay in town. If I'm in Moab, I want to wake up in the midst of the red rock along the Colorado River. I'm not a camper (as you've figured out, I'm sure) but there are places to put up a tent and drink it in all night. When I return to Moab, that's what I'll do. You might want to, too.
Marcia's thought for today:
To Moab. To Moab. As sung by Beyonce, "To the left, to the left."
Marcia's 'listen to' song for today: Irreplaceable by Beyonce.
Well, you don't have to hit me in the head with a stone. (Get it, stone, Moab, all kinds of red rock:)
I took 128 south. It's 31 miles of nothing. Some brush and more nothing. Scary, like you wouldn't want to run out of gas or stop for a picnic lunch. My guess would be snakes out there. But the enticing image of Moab was keeping me going. And I got there. Entering Moab you cross the Colorado River (of course) and drive straight into the cutest little Moab of a town. Filled with rock stores and galleries and a great bookstore - don't miss it - http://www.backofbeyondbooks.com/ that invites you to meander and read and enjoy the experience of books. But where in the world was the real Moab? The Moab I was lusting for?
Turned my little Miata around, stopped at the visitors center (don't you just hope there are visitors centers along the way to heaven), where a lovely lady pulled out a map and showed me the way to the Priest and Nuns at Castle Rock. She kind of scratched the path onto the map. No ink in that pen. Hey Hilton or Marriott, how about sending some pens to the Moab Visitors Center?!
So, head back towards the river, and just before it, right before you cross that river, stop. Turn right and enter the real Moab. To Moab, to Moab. Surrounded by Sears Tower tall red rock, on both sides of the narrow road, little pull off areas, where I sat and swallowed in all that Moab is. Yes, I found the Priest and Nuns, but I kind of think it should be renamed, 'Town Hall,' but be that as it may, this is an exquisite place. There's nowhere to stay along 128, in the midst of all that rock. No hotels, or diners. Which seems appropriate. But I didn't want to stay in town. If I'm in Moab, I want to wake up in the midst of the red rock along the Colorado River. I'm not a camper (as you've figured out, I'm sure) but there are places to put up a tent and drink it in all night. When I return to Moab, that's what I'll do. You might want to, too.
Marcia's thought for today: To Moab. To Moab. As sung by Beyonce, "To the left, to the left."
Marcia's 'listen to' song for today: Irreplaceable by Beyonce.
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