The Red Rock Tour

---

When it got over 100 degrees, we started longing for the Northwest. June in the Northwest is often chilly, with its share of rainy days, and is only sometimes sunny. The idea that it's over 100 in Utah in early June is sort of overwhelming—and it's only going to get hotter. Lance even started talking wistfully about the high Sierras, so perhaps that was the sign that we should leave the Southwest--all a good reminder of why I normally never plan trips to Utah for my summer vacation. We barely made it through our last night in Utah, driving up above the Zion valley floor to camp out at higher elevation, Lance collapsing into the passenger seat after stripping to a bear minimum of clothing.

We went back to Zion National Park, it's true, but only after leaving for the Memorial Day weekend (happily, we don't know if they beat their record crowd levels or not). Our flee from the park landed us in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, just northwest of Zion. On the way we visited a lovely park called Kodachrome Basin, at which point we immediately began singing the appropriate Simon & Garfunkle tune. The cliffs here were striped in bands of pink, orange, and beige, and spread out to red-rock needles at the edge of the basin. Our scenic BLM campsite nearby was plenty quiet and remote, although we had visitors early the next morning. We were on their territory it seemed, and the cows ringed our van, peering attentively at us like we were the latest freak act. If we made sudden movements, they ran off a distance, but then crept back, curious as things settled down again. Eventually they seemed to accept us and Lance initiated a photo shoot. We wandered off later for a meeting of the minds at the Escalante Ranger Station, and left clutching a canyon map and permit, headed for a back-country hike.

Having avoided the fifty mile washboard road that leads to many of the hikes in the area (we'll come back another time for these hikes, after we've rented a car for the purpose), we drove quickly to our trailhead: Escalante Canyon. It was a beautiful hike up the canyon. We wove six miles through a wonderful variety of Utah sandstone, a rainbow of colors, textures, ponderosa pine, and cottonwoods. The only real obstacle was the river, which winds sinuously along the canyon floor, making it impossible to hike through without crossing the river innumerable times. We thought to hike in our big boots, until a fellow hiker in the parking lot recommended against it, warning us of the number of creek crossings. We ended up in our light trail-hiking shoes, prepared to slosh through the water. Nevertheless, the first time you submerge your foot, sock, shoe and all into the waters, it's a bit daunting. After the first mile though, multiple crossings behind us already, it was par for the course, and we splashed right in, squishing and squirting out on the other side. The canyon vegetation was fairly open at the beginning, but grew denser as we hiked, and as we neared our evening's camping spot, it was so dense at times that a trail became impossible to maintain, and one hiked right in the river. Fortunately, the current wasn't strong enough to make us unsteady, but it does take a fair amount of effort to pull a foot with shoe through the water. The river here looked like a road to me, the only clear, flat, wide place to be seen, a canopy of thick tamarisk and cottonwood surrounding like a tunnel. We camped at Death Hollow (nothing in particular evoked this name; it was actually quite vibrant with life), perched to look along the canyon walls for the desert's show of golden morning and evening light. Our hike the next day took us toward the far eastern extent of the canyon, where we turned and retraced our steps after reaching two lovely arches, high above in the red sandstone. Perhaps our favorite part of the trip was the next morning's hike up Death Hollow Canyon itself. A walk entirely in the water, we donned our tevas for the purpose. A narrower canyon than the main Escalante, this side canyon had more the feel of a narrows. The true narrows lay far up the canyon, but our winding ascent was between sheer sandstone cliffs about 200 feet high. We were entranced by the beautiful clear water (a perfect temperature for walking, something almost unheard of in the NW), the colors and streaks in the canyon walls, and the rocks beneath our feet. Much of the creek had almost a floor of rock, making it as though we were walking up a long sloped ramp covered with a skein of shiny smooth water. In many spots the cliff came to the creek with a sheer drop, creating deep eddying pools of water, all beautiful, and sometimes large enough to swim in. In other places there was lush vegetation, much of which was actually poison ivy, a good reason for staying in the creek (although we certainly didn't need one). Dark alcoves held pockets of maidenhair and lady ferns, pulling their moisture from the weeping rock itself. We saw almost no one on our walk, and truly felt we were able to experience the canyon and its many wonders as they have been for generations, a very different feel from many places in the national parks. Our hike back to the trailhead was just as engaging as the hike in; we firmly believe that navigating a canyon from the opposite direction is a new experience, seeing angles and shapes hidden from the other way. We reached our car just at sunset, turning to appreciate the continuing uplift of Escalante Canyon as it extends far off to the south and the Grand Canyon.

It was not far to Bryce Canyon NP, our destination the following day. A fairly small park, most of Bryce can be seen from a few viewpoints on the canyon rim drive. We dutifully visited a few of these, and despite the crowds, it is an amazing view. From the rim at 8500 feet, you look down over a cascade of light orange "hoodoos," as the upright columns of rock are called. The hoodoos flow down over 1500 ft. to the valley below, and are a sharp contrast to the surrounding pine trees. Quickly ready to avoid the crowds, we selected a hike and descended among the rock formations. The trails loop up and through the hoodoos, allowing one to view them from above, below, and across. The rock is quite different from Zion and Escalante, much softer and more mud-like. You can see the erosion patterns in the rock, and imagine the small particles flowing away the moment it rains. Flash floods and winter snow melt do their work to both form and wear away the hoodoos. A second hike took us on a longer loop with an imposing castle-like formation hovering above the more column-like hoodoos. Lance and I enjoyed imagining a kingdom of dwarves living there, their little triangular cone roofed homes flanking the central castle fortress. Examining this area from the rim, the collection of dome and point topped rocks wedged among pine trees appeared to be the perfect village.

After our Bryce Canyon jaunt examining the upper-most rock layer of the Colorado Plateau, we descended back down to Zion (the promised land?), for further slot canyon exploration. We wanted to hike something called "The Subway," but it required a permit. This time of year the permits are in such high demand, that we had to wait a full day before being able to get a permit, which was then issued at 7:30 in the morning for hiking on the following day. While doing some idle browsing at the visitor's center, we read the weather update, and found the expected high for the next few days to be 103 degrees! This was a bit shocking, but our much slowed pace was clear evidence that it was true. Thus, we spent the next couple days moving slowly around Zion, wading into the Virgin River (which carved Zion Canyon) whenever possible. One jaunt took us off trail, high onto the slick-rock mesas which surround the main canyon. Here, we could roam as we wished, following our noses through wide open gardens of pink and beige rock, bonsai-like pine trees, and various scooped canyons. The stark beauty was wonderful for photo-taking, and our aimless wandering finally brought us to a ridge-top with far-reaching views. Once again, being able to be off trail was a special treat of wilderness silence. Despite the danger of high-expectations, "The Subway" hike was everything we had hoped. The first part was a relatively familiar walk up a deep canyon, with walls that started wide and grew narrower, the lovely creek tumbling down the center. It got more interesting when we started to hike more completely in the creek, and the amazing flows of rock and water were part of the trail. One section was like a many layered grand staircase, except with water cascading over the hundreds of tiny steps we walked upon. The subway was at the very end of the part we could hike, where the canyon walls suddenly pinched inward in a round tubular formation, the ceiling 30 feet above us. The walls echoed loudly, and deep pools were carved in the otherwise even surface of the floor. We had to be careful not to fall into a pool, as the smooth water surface often camouflaged the deep pools. The very end led through several sharp corners of carved rock narrows, which we waded through in chest deep water, before being stopped by the waterfall in the final corner. We were sufficiently awed with this special place (a subway indeed), and lingered in the lovely pools of water as long as we could. Lance mulled over how to build a pool such as these in our yard at home, while I contemplated the differences between the immensity of a mountain-top view and the intimacy of a narrow canyon. As our final goodbye to Zion, and many weeks exploring an amazing number of sandstone rock parks (who knew geology could be this fascinating?), we drove the Kolob Terrace road at the edge of Zion, admiring a new section of park with its evening colors and wide open grasslands aglow.

On this trip of various extremes, it was fitting that leaving the wilds of Utah and the Colorado Plateau meant heading directly for Las Vegas. It was already over 100 degrees when we were at Zion, and it only got hotter en route to Las Vegas. The wisdom of the decision to remove the air conditioning from the van was questioned at this point, although there was little we could do about it. Lance got grouchy and Amanda drenched her shirt with a water bottle and we rode on, feeling we had been dropped into a giant convection oven. An idle idea to see a movie in a theater which had begun sometime in Utah became increasingly interesting at this point, and by the time we reached Las Vegas we were set on course for the closest theater. To get directions, we stepped into the lobby of a giant hotel, which felt like a dive into a swimming pool, and somehow we managed not to look too much like interlopers there. The details soon came together and we entered the theater (walking by way of an air-conditioned outdoor walkway, a bizarre, disconcerting novelty). Choosing our seats ten minutes before the movie was due to start, we marveled that no one else was there, and happily chose center seats. After a few minutes it seemed odd that not one other person was there, even if it was a matinee. Then the realization hit: entering Nevada we had crossed into Pacific Time, and it was actually an hour earlier. No wonder no one else was there. Fortunately we had lots of popcorn and the clerk offered us an extra hour for our parking voucher. We recommend "The Da Vinci Code" and the excellent air-conditioning in the Neonopolis theater (which we enjoyed for over four hours). Our Las Vegas visit wrapped up with a drive down the strip (it lacks something in the broad daylight and high heat), free internet at a computer store, and then a quick departure for higher elevation, with our emergency bag of ice in tow.

Amazingly enough, we spent the night at the edge of the Mojave desert (known for its blazing conditions), as it had highest elevation of anywhere for miles. Cool enough for sleeping, we were relieved, and this morning we were able to begin the last leg of our journey back to the Pacific Ocean. Passing through Barstow, we followed the path of Route 66 for a time, humming the song as we went along, then climbing up and over the San Bernardino Mountains (a momentary heat relief), and down to the desert just east of San Diego. This leaves us set to arrive in San Diego in the morning. We will now have a needed bit of time to fix things and do business (did we mention that our camera got broken?—it dropped out of the van....sigh). The cool air tonight is incredibly appealing, and we can almost smell the ocean.

---

Photos

Photo Op
The Bovine Standoff