You could feel it coming.
As the Coronavirus crisis was mounting in the US, we were in Southeastern Utah, near Moab, rock climbing the impressive desert towers that dot the area.
My climbing partner was a Swedish woman, Anna, a full-time climber who lived on the road. A “dirtbag”, we say in the climbing community. Without a permanent home, remote desert was about the most socially-distanced she could be.
I had a home; but amidst the mounting anxiety, I’ll admit: I wanted to escape. Lockdowns had not yet begun in the USA. But I read the news everyday. Italy closed. France closed. That omnipresent graph, always growing. It was coming.
Amidst a world that seemed to grow darker every day, I needed something to hold on to. I needed one last good day.
My partner and I drove to Moab from separate directions, alone. We met, ate, camped in the desert. In much of the Utah desert, there is no cell service; no push notifications. No worries.
