Every year I tell myself that I don’t need to come back to Indian Creek. It’s crowded, dusty and the climbing is monotonous. Besides, there are so many places that I have not been.
Then like clockwork, as the car heads south from Moab and turns onto highway 211 passing vacant ranches and dried grasses something takes hold. I believe places have energy and the closer I get to this ribbon of a waterway the more I feel its positive presence.
Below are a selection of images from the Creek that may help answer why I keep coming back.
Is it the pain? The collection of scraps, bruises, swollen fingers and toes that draws at me?
Could it be lugging packs filled to capacity with gear, clothing and food up and down the talus cones?
How about the slap downs that come with every visit? Thinking this climb should be easy and turns into anything but.
What about after the slap down? Having to get back in the game or risk losing your nerve. Is this what keeps me coming back?
Is it the camps teaming with all walks of climbers. From real life dirtbags to doctors, all existing in the red dirt of the Creek. Is it the people that I meet?
And don’t forget the desert landscape and the barren life that surrounds. There are many places as beautiful as the Creek, but none that are more.
Or what about that climb where it all came together and you floated to the top? Is it wanting that feeling along with all of the rest that has me returning?
I’m still uncertain. Guess I’ll just have to keep going back.