Canyonlands National Park

HORSESHOE CANYON, Utah - In a remote arm of Canyonlands National Park, deep inside a warren of rock and sand, is one of the greatest and most mysterious collections of ancient art in North America. Towering, enigmatic pictographs, some more than 6,000 years old, stare down from stone walls, their meaning unknown yet their allure universal. This is Horseshoe Canyon, one of the loneliest places you're likely to find in this country, nestled amid southeast Utah's labyrinth of slickrock, arches and desert.

THE BEST WAY TO HORSESHOE CANYON, UTAH From LAX, American, Delta and Southwest offer nonstop service to Salt Lake City; US Airways, United, Southwest and Frontier offer connecting service (change of plane). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $230. Horseshoe Canyon is about a six-hour drive from Salt Lake City, depending on conditions. The graded dirt road to the canyon is 32 miles long and usually passable by passenger vehicles as long as it's not muddy. The trail is 61/2 miles round trip and hot in spring and summer, so carry plenty of water.

THE BEST WAY TO HORSESHOE CANYON, UTAH From LAX, American, Delta and Southwest offer nonstop service to Salt Lake City; US Airways, United, Southwest and Frontier offer connecting service (change of plane). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $230. Horseshoe Canyon is about a six-hour drive from Salt Lake City, depending on conditions. The graded dirt road to the canyon is 32 miles long and usually passable by passenger vehicles as long as it's not muddy. The trail is 61/2 miles round trip and hot in spring and summer, so carry plenty of water.

HORSESHOE CANYON, Utah - In a remote arm of Canyonlands National Park, deep inside a warren of rock and sand, is one of the greatest and most mysterious collections of ancient art in North America. Towering, enigmatic pictographs, some more than 6,000 years old, stare down from stone walls, their meaning unknown yet their allure universal. This is Horseshoe Canyon, one of the loneliest places you're likely to find in this country, nestled amid southeast Utah's labyrinth of slickrock, arches and desert.

These places offer exceptional quiet, according to the National Park Service: Arizona Chiricahua National Monument Fort Bowie National Monument Grand Canyon (off-season) Tonto National Monument California Death Valley Colorado Dinosaur National Monument Hawaii and Samoa Haleakala National Park Hawaii Volcanoes National Park Kalaupapa National Historical Park National Park of American Samoa, Tau and Tutuila Units Nevada Lake Mead National Recreation Area New Mexico Aztec Ruins Chaco Culture

The real mountain bikers, those with ropy leg muscles and well-worn bike saddles, careened down the Jeep Trail, past the red rocks and purple pinnacles, toward the White Rim Trail below. In minutes, they sliced through the sandstone layer cake of reds, chocolate browns, curry yellows and greens that took 15 million years for time and water to carve into a labyrinth of colored canyons, buttes and arches.

Despite a few flaws, our national parks remain incomparable--unencumbered by such staples of urban blight as billboards and mini-malls. With rare exception, they are the best that America has to offer. National parks belong to all of us. Even with various restrictions and restraints, they essentially are places to be free. The use of automobiles is gradually being curbed; so is helicopter touring.

Music blaring from cars in the parking lots of Arches National Park violates the solitude of the southeastern Utah desert. A mobile mountain bike repair shop sits astride the road leading to Slickrock Trail. Traffic is snarled, property prices are soaring. Tourists, alas, have found Moab.

Invoking an obscure 19th century law, officials of a rural Utah county have announced their intention to establish a road to a scenic rock formation through a remote part of Canyonlands National Park. It is the first time a local government has formally laid claim to a right of way in a national park in the lower 48 states, though authorities in other western states, including California, have indicated a similar intent.

Sweet-scented white western azaleas are budding in the grassy meadows, the dogwood has blossomed, and the waterfalls that slowed during winter's freeze crash in full fury against the gray granite cliffs. But the most visible sign of spring's unfolding here is the long line of cars waiting at the gate, foretelling what is to be a season of uncommon pressure at all national parks.

Invoking an obscure 19th century law, officials of a rural Utah county have announced their intention to establish a road to a scenic rock formation through a remote part of Canyonlands National Park. It is the first time a local government has formally laid claim to a right of way in a national park in the lower 48 states, though authorities in other western states, including California, have indicated a similar intent.

The real mountain bikers, those with ropy leg muscles and well-worn bike saddles, careened down the Jeep Trail, past the red rocks and purple pinnacles, toward the White Rim Trail below. In minutes, they sliced through the sandstone layer cake of reds, chocolate browns, curry yellows and greens that took 15 million years for time and water to carve into a labyrinth of colored canyons, buttes and arches.

We are sprawled flat on our backs on a sandstone slab, soaking in darkness this August night with the satisfaction of Iditarod dropouts basking in a wintertime tropical sun. Above us, the sky pulsates with 11,000 visible stars. We can pick out the Pleiades, Andromeda and Perseus' double cluster as shooting stars whisk by, the last of the Perseids meteor shower. Mars burns feverishly. The Milky Way, thick with stars, forms a wide silver arch over our heads. We are deep inside Canyonlands National Park at an outlook called Grand View Point, one of the darkest spots in the United States: 57 miles from the Interstate 70 headlights, 33 miles from the nearest stoplight, 27 miles from a gas station sign, 12 from an electrical outlet.

These places offer exceptional quiet, according to the National Park Service: Arizona Chiricahua National Monument Fort Bowie National Monument Grand Canyon (off-season) Tonto National Monument California Death Valley Colorado Dinosaur National Monument Hawaii and Samoa Haleakala National Park Hawaii Volcanoes National Park Kalaupapa National Historical Park National Park of American Samoa, Tau and Tutuila Units Nevada Lake Mead National Recreation Area New Mexico Aztec Ruins Chaco Culture

Music blaring from cars in the parking lots of Arches National Park violates the solitude of the southeastern Utah desert. A mobile mountain bike repair shop sits astride the road leading to Slickrock Trail. Traffic is snarled, property prices are soaring. Tourists, alas, have found Moab.

Despite a few flaws, our national parks remain incomparable--unencumbered by such staples of urban blight as billboards and mini-malls. With rare exception, they are the best that America has to offer. National parks belong to all of us. Even with various restrictions and restraints, they essentially are places to be free. The use of automobiles is gradually being curbed; so is helicopter touring.

We are sprawled flat on our backs on a sandstone slab, soaking in darkness this August night with the satisfaction of Iditarod dropouts basking in a wintertime tropical sun. Above us, the sky pulsates with 11,000 visible stars. We can pick out the Pleiades, Andromeda and Perseus' double cluster as shooting stars whisk by, the last of the Perseids meteor shower. Mars burns feverishly. The Milky Way, thick with stars, forms a wide silver arch over our heads. We are deep inside Canyonlands National Park at an outlook called Grand View Point, one of the darkest spots in the United States: 57 miles from the Interstate 70 headlights, 33 miles from the nearest stoplight, 27 miles from a gas station sign, 12 from an electrical outlet.

Sweet-scented white western azaleas are budding in the grassy meadows, the dogwood has blossomed, and the waterfalls that slowed during winter's freeze crash in full fury against the gray granite cliffs. But the most visible sign of spring's unfolding here is the long line of cars waiting at the gate, foretelling what is to be a season of uncommon pressure at all national parks.