Dirt Roads and Thunderstorms
I’m hiking today. I fill the car, grab some rations – water, fruit, crackers and muesli bars – and head to the visitor centre to work out a plan. I’ve got no idea where to start with the hiking, so I ask for recommendations of a relatively easy hike to start with. I’m interested in the slot canyons as I’ve seen them on postcards and they look amazing. The woman at the centre is not the ideal information provider – she’s filling in and really doesn’t know much, but says I should be able to get to the first canyon in my non-four-wheel-drive rental car, although the road isn’t sealed. I decide to start with that one, then move on to easier routes. The GPS is, of course, no use in getting me to the canyon, but I’m now loaded down with maps and information sheets. I can do this.
I find the Hole-in-the-rock road, unsealed, but not too rough. I’m not sure how far the entrance is down this road, but it should be around 20 miles or so. I go past the landmarks on the map, so I know I’m heading the right way. The further in I travel, the more the road deteriorates. I start to get a little nervous – I’m on my own, on what is now a dirt track, with no mobile signal, in a 2WD economy rental car. I keep thinking I’ll just go to the next bend and then if I can’t see the turn off, I’ll give up. Then I go to the next bend. After 30 miles, I reach a section of road that has its own special sign saying “road damage”. This is the point that I give up on the canyon and turn around.
Twenty miles or so back is the turn off for the Devil’s Garden. This is a relatively small sandy area, covered with weird shaped rock formations in sand, tan and brown. Some have little mushroom caps. There are only two other people braving the baking heat. It’s seriously hot out here, and it is still, not even the whisper of a breeze.
My next attempt at hiking is to Lower Calf Creek Falls, which sounds promising. I start on a track that meanders through rust red rocks, with views of the lush green surrounds of the river off to my right. I see a cute furry animal that I think is a squirrel, but with a bit more education, I now think it was a Prairie Dog. The walk is not too strenuous and the clouds have moved in, so it’s a little cooler. Then there are a few spots of rain.
The spots quickly turn into a torrential downpour. There are not many drops, but every drop seems to be the equivalent of a full glass of water, so two drops in a direct hit and you’re soaked. I figure I’m going to get wet no matter which direction I walk, so I may as well keep going. Then the thunder starts. A few minutes later, it’s accompanied by lightning. This is scary, especially as I’m alone. I’m trying to remember what you’re supposed to do in a lightning storm. I know you don’t get in water. Since trees get struck by lightning, I’m thinking sheltering under a tree may not be the wisest either, and the cliffs are red because of something to do with iron traces, so with my limited scientific knowledge, that makes them conductors. That doesn’t leave me with much. As I’m having this mental discussion, a huge bolt of lightning hits the cliffs so close to me that I stop in my tracks. As I deliberate on what to do, a couple passes me the other way and I ask if they think it’s safe to continue. They reassure me and I move forwards through the storm, rain rivulets running down my face. It stops 15 minutes before I reach the waterfall, which is nothing spectacular. I eat a muesli bar and a banana for lunch, then turn around and hike back. It’s about a three-hour hike in total and the first time I’ve hiked solo, so I’m quite proud of myself.
The other hike I was told about is at the Escalante River. The full hike is quite long, but apparently if you take the small unmarked tracks off the main trail, they lead to petroglyphs on the canyon walls. I decide to make this a short walk. Five minutes in, I have to cross a muddy river. I take off my hiking boots and slowly make my way across. Twenty-five minutes later, the trail crosses the river again. I can’t be bothered taking my shoes on and off and it’s getting late, so I take one of the unmarked trails to the canyon walls. No petroglyphs. I hike back to the river, cross again, then jump in the car and head back to my little log cabin for the evening.
Is Bryce Canyon made from Magic Sand?
This is the day I learn Google Maps is not always accurate on timing. I get up extra early because I think it’s going to take me several more hours than it does to get anywhere. My first stop is Kodachrome Basin State Park. It only covers a compact area, but has a lot of nice short hikes, and again is full of weird and wonderful rock formations. I start with a nature walk, following numbered posts with a brochure that tells me about the different rocks, plants and scenery I’m taking in. I then go for a more ambitious hike uphill, which has great views across the park. There’s one section where you walk out on a narrow ledge with no barriers on either side. Even though I know there is plenty of room, my brain is not happy with the idea of a sheer drop on either side.
I would have liked to stay longer, but I’m hoping to get on a mule ride at Bryce Canyon. I have no mobile reception and the public phone at the park’s entrance is out of order. Turns out there’s another phone on the way out, so I call through to the mule people and book in for the 1pm ride. Means I have to get a move on, according to Google Maps. I arrive early and vow to put faith in the GPS over Google. I drive to one of the scenic viewpoints while I wait. Bryce Canyon is phenomenal. It is a large canyon, covered in hoodoos, all of which are bright, bright orange. They are so bright it’s hard to believe the colour is natural. It reminds me of the magic sand I had a child, where you poured dry, coloured sand into a water-filled bowl and it grew gnarled towers.
At the lodge, I check in and wander down to the corral. There are a lot of people milling about, but it’s all quite organised. They divide us into smaller groups, choose our steeds based on our professed horsemanship, then line them up in order of which mules will not kick or bite the ones in front and behind. I end up directly behind the cowboy, whose name seems to be Tin Bear. We head into the canyon, riding past all manner of shapes in the orange dirt. We settle into our saddles just in time for the afternoon thunderstorm. It drizzles, then pours, then hails, then pours again. We get a brief, damp respite, then the same cycle repeats itself. The steaming summer temperatures are gone and we are all shivering in our t-shirts and shorts. We reach the halfway point in time for another downpour and huddle miserably under the trees. As the rain eases, we climb back onto our mules, shivering and leaning on our beasts to steal some of their warmth. The rain slowly scales back to drizzle, then it’s just overcast and by the time we get back to the top of the canyon, the sun is peeking out from the clouds again. We all dash to the lodge for a hot chocolate warm up.
I drive around the canyon for a few more spectacular views, then head to Panguitch, where I have a motel booked for the night. I have a television and all. I head across the road to the Cowboy Blues Smokehouse Café for dinner and have brisket. Apparently it’s a strip cut of beef from the chest of the cow. It comes with homemade BBQ sauce and is served with a huge baked potato with sour cream. I have a fruit cup as my optional side dish so that’s dessert. Full, I stumble back across the road to wash my clothes in the sink. If they don’t dry overnight I can hang them across the back seat of the car during the day to finish the job.
Monuments and National Parks
I’m in the car and on my way by 8am. I spoke to a couple in the restaurant last night who recommended Cedar Breaks National Monument. The way it seems to work here is that places of natural beauty are first declared national monuments, then if they are big enough, they become national parks. Very few people go to the national monuments, but as soon as they become national parks, their visitation increases sharply. The road winds through cedar forests and round one bend there are three deer grazing by the side of the road.
At the visitor centre, I cash in my receipt from Bryce Canyon and upgrade to a full annual parks pass. I will use the parks enough to go over the $80 cost. Given that it’s early and Cedar Breaks is only a monument, there is hardly anyone here. The ranger recommends a two-mile trail, which I decide will be a good pre-breakfast stroll. I walk to the viewpoint first, expecting a forested canyon. Instead, it is a bright orange amphitheatre, similar to Bryce Canyon, but more compact. The trail starts a little further down and meanders along the rim. On one side, there are views of the amphitheatre (and again the steep drop), and on the other is the forest. It is lovely. Chipmunks play around the logs in the forest and at one stage, I see a fox run along the rim and disappear. The trail ends at a railed-in viewpoint on a promontory over the amphitheatre. I continue on to the second viewpoint, another mile away.
This trail winds down through the forest. There are wildflowers amongst the trees and it’s nice and shady, keeping me cool. When I reach the end of the walk, there is one other person just leaving. We seem to be the only two on the entire track. The views are amazing in the clear morning air. I can see all the way down the valley to Cedar City in the distance.
The walk back is harder as the first half is uphill, but I’m proud of the fact that I’ve walked four miles before breakfast. I’ve earned a reward, as well as the bananas and muesli bars stashed in the car. My reward is in Cedar City. A big latte with an extra shot so it tastes like coffee.
My next stop is Zion National Park. It’s lucky that the days are long here in summer. Especially lucky when the GPS takes me to a secondary entrance called Kolob Canyon. That would have been fine as it was closer, but the entrance and all walks are closed as there’s a bushfire. I have to drive another hour or so to get to Zion. Parking is often a problem as it is so popular and there are a few signs on the way saying that the parking is full. I try my luck anyway. When I get to the gate I ask the guard whether it’s going to be possible for me to park inside. “Absolutely”, he says. They put the signs up, but there’s always a few spots available as people come and go. I drive in and immediately find a park, which makes up for my detour.
Zion is quite different from the other parks I’ve been to. For a start, the lodge and hikes are from the bottom of the canyon, rather than the top, and the canyon walls are browns and greys. There is quite a lot of greenery as there is a river running through the canyon. I head to the Riverside Walk on the free shuttle bus. It is the last stop, so I get a good overview of the canyon as we go along.
The Riverside Walk is a couple of miles long and is paved, so is a nice, gentle, flat stroll. It runs along the river – as prophesised by the name – and chubby squirrels saunter across the path all the way along. They are not at all scared, so I now have a lot of close-up squirrel photos to sift through. The end of the Riverside Walk is the start of The Narrows trail, the most famous walk in Zion. I’m planning on walking part of it. It is entirely in water – an upstream walk as the canyon narrows. It starts at ankle depth, creeps up to the knees, and the next minute, you’re up to your waist. People take walking sticks and hand them over to others as they come out of the walk, so I inherit a nice bamboo walking stick. I don’t go too far in, as some thunder starts and the canyon is prone to flash floods. Everyone is heading out, rather than in, so I follow suit.
I catch the bus to the Weeping Rock to do the miniscule walk there. It is paved, and is only a few hundred metres up the canyon to see a group of rocks that continually seep water. When it rains, the water enters into the rock, but it can’t penetrate the denser rock in the lower segments, so it then traverses the more porous rock to find an exit. They have had the water tested and found that this process can take up to 500 years. Despite this, it really is just water dripping off a rock, so it’s not a place for a long stop. The same can be said for the walk to the Emerald Pools. The walk is a bit longer and quite pleasant, but the pools are more like muddy little swamps. There’s nothing emerald about them.
I catch the shuttle back to my car and head out a different exit, stopping at a few more viewpoints as I make my way to Kanab. I’m staying at Hitch ‘n Post. It’s is actually an RV park, but they have cabins as well, which are the same price as a hostel. When I walk into the cabin, I’m pleasantly surprised – it is quite large, with a queen sized bed and a television. The bed is not made, so I go back to the lady and discover people usually bring their own linen. She offers to lend me some. I drive down the road to see what the dinner options are and stop for a steak. The special is cowgirl rib eye. Sounds good. When it arrives, it’s not so good. It’s stewed, not grilled and full of fatty chunks. The edible parts are peppered a little too much and the vegetables are so over-boiled that they are a soggy mash. The positive is that the root beer is bottomless. I need it to wash my dinner down.
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