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The road up to the plateau had washed out in a couple of places (like it does every summer), forming an RV barrier and giving us a quiet camp. The ATVs went by on the road for a while, but even they quit at dusk. (And, nothing can be as bad as the motors on the Markagunt, where half of Las Vegas seemingly lives all summer. Between the yuppies and the yayhoos, there is not one quiet corner . . . isn't anybody lonely anymore?)
On Sunday morning we worked our way out to Powell Point, which is probably one of the best places on Earth. The light was spectacular and all of southern Utah was in view. No wonder JWP found it a good place to pursue his map-making. After a while we began to hear the maggots on the trail and decided to start the trip back. On the way out we pulled over for an ATV carrying four, including one kid on the hood. The lady driving asked us how far it was, and whether it was worth it. I answered, "It's beautiful." But, after they drove on, I realized that what I should have said was, "Naw, it's not worth it."
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