Moab, UT

The Cobalt (provisionally name: Randy) cruised along, unperturbed by the sheer monotony of the straight tarmac, a black ribbon unfolding to the horizon. We're about three hours south of Salt Lake City, on the way to Moab. It's a barren landscape, but beautiful nonetheless. I sit silently and wonder what it must have been like as a pioneer, trekking across such nothingness. Would you feel elated at the sheer intensity of nature? Or ultimately unhinged - when will it ever end?

Helper
Americana redux. Helper is an old coal town in the middle of nowhere. Tumble weed tumbled along the road as we entered this ghost town. All the windows are shuttered. For Sale signs litter every shop along the main strip. The only place doing regular business is the Balancing Rock Eatery. We pop in for a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with fries (coffee refills are free and plentiful). The atmosphere is somewhat nostalagic; back in the day this place would have been humming with gritty mining folk. Today it's a skeleton if its former self. The Union Pacific Railway is just over the road, but there its rolling stock sit idle. I ask about the coal mines and the waitress tells me that there is one coking station a few miles into the valley. But most of the business seems to have evaporated, like the water in this parched and barren place.

Moab
If Helper is of yesteryear, then Moab is of humming today. Sitting right in between two extraordinary national parks - Arches and Canyonland - and along the Colorado and Green rivers, Moab is an adventure-seekers mecca. Here you can whitewater raft, canyon, mountain bike, sky dive and jet boat all day, any day. The town has a sort of modern cowboy feel - just a few saloon bars and bike shops line the main strip; motels plentiful and cheap.

We hiked up to the Delicate Arch this afternoon and discovered that it truly deserves its place on the Utah license plate. It's is massive, an enormous logic-defying span of rock that simply sits on its own ontop of a small peak. Rationally, it makes no sense - how did it get there? Why is it standing? What are all those Norwegian tourists in bikinis doing taking pictures in front of it? (I kid you not. I tried to convince Ebba that it was just the Norwegian Bikini Team on tour. To her horror and shame, she is rediscovering that her fellow Scandinavians go a little crackers when they see the sunshine).