Rory Tyler’s recent column reminded me that it was the Power Dam area that first sold me on Moab, back when it wasn’t crowded. It could be hot enough to fry a lizard downtown, but I could duck up there quickly and leap into the cool clear water; in the shady canyon with the bats and wrens and the picked over ruins of the humans that have been hanging out there ever since there have been humans. It’s a rare, magic place.
I stopped going there because dogs, and their owners yelling orders at them, came to dominate the experience. I could count on being carefully examined by at least one large, wet, enthusiastic dog and I was likely to step in his droppings.
At least people who are caught short tend to head for the bushes. Dogs leave it right where it gets in the sparkling water we love to splash in. Dogs aren’t allowed in the other parks, shouldn’t the health inspector keep them out of Mill Creek?