Looking on our Jeep trail maps, it shows a loop going from the Whale's Tail parking lot out towards the old highway, which should take us very close to the Marching Men formations; save perhaps one half hour or so of hiking, and driving on dirt roads is fun anyways.

The road got a bit rough, but being the eternal optimists, we decided to just keep on "going for it." Coming upon a slick rock section, which resembled driving a car down the coliseum steps, we really had to commit. We knew we could bounce down, but it would be impossible to ascend back up; we're on a one way loop anyways, so don't think, just jump. It looked so do-able, and I love a good challenge, so down we crashed, like a barrel over Niagara Falls. Half way down the truck hung up on some rocks on an incredibly steep section.

The car seemed to be teetering on the brink, but still wouldn't budge. Exiting the vehicle to investigate, we saw one front wheel jammed up into the wheel well, while one back wheel was suspended high in the air. It seemed like a hopeless and impossible situation. We tried for three hours with the car jack to reposition the truck in various ways, but still nothing. By now the sun is high and the temperatures are pushed well over 100 degrees F. We are a good 10 miles from any main road; does AAA come out this far?

As a last resort, I climbed on the back bumper and just started to jump up and down like a man on a deserted island waving to a passing plane. Our extreme efforts were finally fruitful, and we rocked free, smacking the shocks to their limit and flying down terrain so impressive that we should have contacted ESPN to send out a film crew.

Soon the Marching Men spires come into view and after our multi-hour car epic to save 20 minutes of hiking, we figure we better climb one of these suckers to justify the drive in.

The heat is intense, and Diane's fair skin will fry in the scorching sun. I promise her I'll climb fast, and we'll be out of here in a half hour, max. Diane takes the belay stance, completely covers her whole head with a T-shirt to black out the sun, and I start up the climb, plugging in friends as I jam up hand cracks and cracks over bulges.

Soon the crack starts to widen, so I tip out a #4 friend and just start mad-doggin' it for the top. The higher I climb this off-width above my last piece of protection, the slower I climb and the more terrified I become. About 25' out, I come to a grinding (literally) halt. Sweat is pouring out of my body and stinging all the abrasions produced from climbing any difficult off-width.

I look down, way down, to see the tipped out friend. I also see Diane, silent and patient, baking in the sun, blind to the world from the T-shirt over her head. I measure the fall in my mind and calculate that if I fall and the tipped out friend holds, I'll still be 10 to 15 feet off the deck. "Ever hold a 50 foot fall?" I ask Diane. After 45 minutes of psyching, sweating, praying, more sweating, and many false starts, it finally dawns on me that I can't turn back now. It all becomes perfectly clear; to fail on this climb would mean I can't ink it in the guidebook, and that is unacceptable. Diane hasn't said a word or even moved, come to think of it, in over two hours.

Of course, I make it, declare it not really so bad after all, and rappel down the route fast as a Marine out of a helicopter. I thank Diane for her unbelievable belay patience, and we book it back to the car for the uncertain drive out.

Back on the Jeep road, all was going well, and it looked like we were going to make it. Turning a rocky corner, our hearts sank when the trail turned to sand dunes big enough to swallow ten camels. I gunned the motor and plowed into the drifts, sand spraying to the sides like a ski boat on a calm lake sprays water. My head was filled with visions of abandoning my car to this dune forever, and it would take a crowbar and some dynamite to peel my fingers off the steering wheel now as we rocketed forward.

Back at the Park Headquarters in Arches National Park, the rangers barely believed our story, but still congratulated us for being the first non-4-wheel drive vehicle in Park history to drive the loop.