The day began for us as soon as the sun peeked over the canyon rim and began cooking the tent.  Oatmeal for breakfast, stowage of the packs and we were on our way with day packs to Druid Arch, 2.5 miles to the south on the extreme edge of the park trail system.  The walk followed the dried-up bed of Elephant Canyon most of the way, and being a deep canyon, we walked in the cool shade and comfort the entire way.  The shade makes a huge difference on the enjoyment, as was evidenced several times.  A walk in the sun is almost entirely devoid of humor, conversation or sight seeing.  Not so this time, as we chatted on various subjects the entire way.  Interestingly enough, we encountered even more water as we strode up the canyon.  I don’t know why.
    We encountered nobody on the trail until we surmounted a ridge atop a steep climb that afforded an unexpected view of Druid Arch: even without a marker, we knew we were there.  In fact, there is no sign "You are here." at Druid Arch, none is needed.  The 500-foot wall of rock has two vertical slices in it, each 200 feet long.  The dazzling blue sky shone through the arches, the sandstone gleaming brilliant reddish-orange in the morning sun.  The view of the surrounding region is impressive as well, the elevation of the viewing point being quite substantial.
   We took pictures of the arch like good tourists, then a picture of the both of us in front of the arch (with camera balanced by spacer rocks).  The shade we enjoyed upon first arrival receded, but the sun was not too hot so early.  The playground of giant rock saucers around us was ours' alone.  We read, I scribbled dribble in this notebook, and Dave napped on the smooth limestone.  Two ravens met over the abyss of the canyon, and circled around each other in ever-upward spirals around a rising thermal, sort of like a bird pow-wow.  I watched them for several minutes until they were merely black specks against the revolving blue dome of the sky.  Suddenly, they broke off and flew in different directions.  What do birds chat about in the Canyonlands?  Water?  Food?  The view?  Who knows.  Idle babble.
    We fed on crackers, squeeze cheese and peppered beef jerky in the shade of a ledge.  (There are 200 billion ledges in any one canyon here.)  We visited with the guy from Arizona whose tent was destroyed days earlier (small park) and played gin and schnitzel while packs of hikers came and went.  The hike back was prolonged as long as possible for the simple reason that our camp was not a nice place to be.  We filtered water on the way, and stopped in the shade of a rock or tree to talk, read or pass the time in any other way.  I found enormous pleasure in spiking rocks at pre-chosen targets.  I rarely hit them.  No matter, it passed time and we didn't get back to camp until 2:40 p.m.
    We were relegated to a thin strip of shade once again at the rear of the camp (but well within the camp boundary) and read Abbey (who else?) for hours, rubbing bare, sore feet in the cool, fine sand.  The simple pleasures of camping in the backcountry.
    At 5:00, the shadow had grown to a reasonable size and we cooked up a Lipton Minestrone soup.  Tasted great.  After dinner we played cards.  I was dealt two boats at poker in three hands.  When I play for money I always get crap.  Typical.  The afternoon sun waned and the clouds in the sky turned a dull peach color above us.  Talk about your lazy afternoon.  I wrote, Dave read.  The expected sunset once again failed to pan out, although impressive storm clouds formed just before dark.  The tent was even hotter at bedtime.