I have klatarismenophobia. 

I hadn’t heard of it, either. But it turns out there’s a name for the irrational fear of getting a flat tire. For me, the roots aren’t hard to trace: In the summer of 2019, while researching a book about ghost towns, I punctured a tire on a remote stretch of dirt road in 113-degree heat. I changed the tire and made it to safety, but ever since, I’ve dreaded hearing an unexpected chime and seeing that little orange light on the dashboard.

Nevertheless, I’m about to visit a place that eats tires for lunch: Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument, a land of solitude, diverse terrain, dark night skies and incredible views of its namesake gorge and the Arizona Strip. It’s a place I’ve been dying to visit — and a place that, if I’m not careful, will happily oblige.

People were practicing social distancing at Parashant (pronounced PAIR-uh-shont) long before the pandemic made it fashionable. At more than 1 million acres, the monument is nearly as large as Grand Canyon National Park, which sees about 6 million visitors annually. But...