Delicate Arch stands as witness to the formation of the planet

Delicate Arch stands alone on the edge of an elevated bowl. It presents itself like a trophy ... as if someone put it there to celebrate something … somebody. There is no plaque, no inscription. There is no need for letters, words, or sentences. It speaks a universal language that is heard by all…and hopefully understood by most. Delicate Arch is the icon of Arches National Park, a park that encompasses the world's densest collection of such geological anomalies, more than 2,000 arches to be inexact. While other arches might contain more impressive features, such as size and shape, none rises to the celebrity of Delicate Arch. When you are in Utah -- Delicate Arch's home state -- its image is everywhere, right down to the state's popular license plate. Despite its fame, Delicate Arch is not easy to get to. The trail leading to it is a "walk in the park" that is no "walk in the park." While some overzealous publications and web sites call the Delicate Arch Trail moderate, the National Park Service more accurately lists it as difficult. The trail rises almost 500 feet above the parking lot, and traverses over both smooth and jagged rocks. There is little to no shade, less the last 300 feet that inches you along a shelf positioned halfway up a cliff -- and does so with two-way traffic. Oh, and the park suggests you carry, and consume, a good quantity of drinking water during your hike, because in the summer it is scorching hot. (Sadly, a week before our family visit, a hiker died at the park from heat stroke and dehydration.) It is not until the very last second that you actually see the arch. And there it is … alone and posed like a trophy. Or, perhaps, posed like a bowed pair of giant, reddish-orange cowboy legs. (Was there once a body and head that spoke to visitors?) Along the rugged trail you are passed by hundreds, if not thousands, of hikers. Some are in better shape and make the climb look easy. Others are coming back from their audience with the Arch. (For clarity, I passed no one!) Encouragement was shared by those heading up, "It's going to be worth it!" And by those going down, "It's so worth it!" Fair enough. Not fair enough were those heading down claiming that you were almost there. By what set of measurements these sadistic people live by I don't know. This is where something about this hike, and this place, comes to the forefront. Most, and I mean most, of the hikers spoke with an accent, with broken English or in a language that was not only not English, but not easily recognizable. It is one thing to travel from the Midwest to a landscape so different from that of home, but it is another thing that when you get there, the dominant language of the visitors is something other than English! I don't say this as a bad thing, but as a surprising thing. I mean, U.S. citizens visit such worldly locations as Matterhorn, Uluru and the Virunga Mountains to see mountain gorillas. I wonder, in those locations, are we the dominant tourists? What I don't have to wonder is that while Delicate Arch seems to stand lonely, it also stands amongst the most iconic features on the planet. And when they say that people come from all around to see it, they don't mean near and far, they mean far and extremely far, as in literally all around the globe. In asking around about this foreign phenomenon, it was a minor consensus that few other countries have as many "national" parks as the U.S. Unfortunately, this is a grand misnomer. It turns out that the U.S. has extremely less national parks than Australia (63 to 600). Further, when it comes to total acreage, the U.S. is fifth. (Canada is first.) The reason for this might be that the United States is a relatively "new" country, and its best awe-inspiring scenery and nature were set aside before it was developed. (Thank you Ulysses S. Grant and the National Park Protection Plan of 1872!) Another reason might be that we have the best features. I mean, who else has a Yellowstone? Or, perhaps better yet, an Arches? Strangely, Arches is a relatively new national park. It gained this status in 1971. Before that, it was a National Monument, a title with less protection and visitor amenities than a national park, but one quite befitting of the landscape. But the age of its title is infinitesimally less than its natural history. The formation of the rocks that would become today's Arches National Park started hundreds of millions of years ago. As sedimentary rocks does, it hardens, then erodes into fine particles and then hardens again. In the case of Arches, various layers, and hardnesses, of sandstone formed. As erosion set in, linear rock outcrops called "fins" were formed. Over many more millions of years, many of these fins eroded at the bottom faster than at the top. Eventually, some fins collapsed and disappeared completely, while others remained with small to giant holes through them. The National Park Service states that while some arches will collapse (Wall Arch did in 2008), others are still forming. (I don't know if they are speaking of real time or geological time.) Most arches in the park are associated with an ancient fin, or wall. The wall might have holes in it or an arching arm may reach out of it. (See Corona Arch just across the street from Arches …relatively speaking.) Delicate Arch, unlike the others, stands like an arch -- solitary and unsupported. Except by visitors … out-of-breath, overheated, sunburnt, thirsty and completely exhausted visitors.' Like so many of the rest, all of my discomfort disappeared the moment I saw it. I was suddenly humbled and honored to be in the presence of such a perfect work of nature. It spoke to me …to all of us ... and did so in its own language. It spoke a thousand chapters … and did so without time or saying a word. And it reminded me that I need to do my part to protect, and celebrate, the wonders of this planet. Like I just did! Delicate Arch is indeed a trophy. Again, it has no plaque, no inscription. Its language cannot be written.