Excerpt:
When I was a seasonal ranger, I lived at the Devils Garden Campground at Arches National Park for a full decade. Some people thought I’d never leave; even I wondered if I’d ever get out of there alive. I worried that the tourists might drive me insane and it’s true I could get a bit surly with them from time to time. Over the years, I acquired something of a reputation.
But looking back, I realize how many dear friends I made during my Arches era—friendships that would last to this day. Just recently, I called up my old pal Ken Curtis, a former battalion commander with the Salt Lake City fire department. For years, he and many of his colleagues, and their families, would descend on Arches for Easter Week. Jeep Safari might have been a tradition for some Moabites. For me it was the firefighters. Ken’s now in his late 80s; Rubi his wonderful wife of more than 50 years, passed away almost a decade ago, but Ken and many of his pals are still going strong.
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