Goblin Valley: Broadswords Not Included

Friday and Saturday, David, Dantzel, Hannah - Dantzel's younger sister - and I decided to take an impromptu trip down to Goblin Valley, south of Green River, Utah. We hurridly packed our camping gear and items, hopped in David's Blazer and took the three and a half hour trip late Friday night at roughly 8 p.m.

Little did we know what this trip had in store.

We kept missing exits, adding extra miles to our trip. Eventually, Google Maps lied to us and we trapezed throughout the back valleys of the state park, following confusingly positioned signs and dirt roads, careening through valleys as David drove at high speeds uncharacteristic of a usual slow paced Seattle driver, and understandably. It was 1 a.m. and we still had not found the park. However, as we swerved and bumped violently through the canyons, barely avoiding a flame-filled death at the bottom of sudden drop-offs, Dantzel's stomach couldn't take it anymore, and we had to pull over, where she threw up a little while the men walked around, brows furrowed, frantically consulting the maps and wondering if we'd find our way out alive.

Finally, we rolled into the campground at 2 a.m., only to jump out and find the back left tire had completely blown apart. After driving on its flatness, it looked as if Jack the Ripper himself had his way with the poor thing. Too tired to change it, we set up our tents and tarps and went to bed. Dantzel and Hannah insisted on sleeping outside under the stars, giving us boys the tent. Paranoid that some strange desert animal might attack them (or worse, crazed hikers), I opened the tent door, positioned the opening so that we were directly facing them and slept a restless night, startling myself awake at every sound both real and imaginary to make sure our girls were not being eaten alive by giant desert spiders.

Wearily, we woke up the next day to fix the tire. David's spare was attached by a wire from the bottom of the undercarriage. To lower it, we needed to turn the tire iron in a slot. However, rusted from lack of use, the lever refused to budge. Several fellow campers tried to help us, even spraying the parts with WD-40 in hopes it would loosen it up, but in vain. The grease only made it more difficult to keep the tire iron in the slot, as it had become rather slippery.

So while Hannah and I ran through the mountains, exploring the various canyons and rock formations, Dantzel and David attempted to cut the metal cord holding the tire with a Leatherman knife to no avail. Finally, they decided to make the long, hot trek to the ranger's station, where the nice man gave us a tool to give us torque in turning the tire iron, giving us the opportunity to lower the tire. We fixed it, then hiked throughout the rock formations before the beating desert sun got the best of us and we piled into the car to drive wearily home.

The whole time, we were living on junk food such as chips and cookies, eating sandwiches for breakfast, since we had forgotten the camp stove, rendering our can of chili, hot dogs, cup of noodles and instant oatmeal useless, or at least very disgusting to eat cold.

Hannah, despite being a 14 year old girl, was very much a good sport and did not complain, bless her heart. Though we were all on edge, none of us snapped at the other and worked through it calmly. As David said, "There's no other group I'd rather be stranded in the desert with." Ain't that the truth.

Goblin Valley itself is a very cool place, and after the initial frustrations, we ultimately enjoyed the excursions throughout the state park. Now that we know where it is, we are determined to come back someday, hopefully in the winter, to explore once more. The goblins, though determined to strand us in the desert and pick our bones clean, have failed in driving us out of their homeland. And we didn't even need to use a broadsword.

Pictures coming soon.