So many canyons...so little time.
Many of my friends ask me why I don't write more about where I live. Wait no longer readers...today I post about a backpacking trip I just finished last night. It was one of the best short (and by short I mean two nights) hikes I've been on in a long time. The Escalante Canyons are mind-boggling in their beauty. They are like an attractive family of sisters. They are all really gorgeous with their own special qualities and sweetnesses. You just have to introduce yourself to them all to see their more intricate differences...then they are even more fetching.
My biggest problem with writing about these hikes is a) just sitting down and doing it, and b) finding ways to describe nature and the ecosystem around here that are not repetetive. I mean, how many times can you read about the big red canyon walls with black streaks? Really, when push comes to shove, they all look the same. Some canyon walls are just bigger and taller than others. So now that I have that out of the way, there will be no more descriptions of canyon walls.
We began the hike on Tuesday morning, June 20. It was hot. It was hot at 9:30 a.m. when we hiked from our very hot, unairconditioned, BLACK Chevy Suburban into the canyon. My husband and I had been cheerfully coerced into a mini-backpacking trip by our friends Ricki and Sandy. Since we don't get out very often from our day job in which, mercifully, we are the boss, we decided we should just leave and do the hike, even in 95+ tempuratures. After driving miles from town down the worst dirt road EVER, we arrived at the trail head.
From the parking area we slogged across sand, ultra-dried cow shit, crunchy weeds, and more sand until we found a very steep rock route into the dry end of the canyon. From there it was more dry hiking down in the canyon, through the worst dried grass that ever grew on the planet with seeds that stick in your socks and poke you. Suddenly, the beaten cow path veered hard right and we had to go downhill, where it was obvious that small springs were feeding into the canyon below at the bottom of the slope. We had to negotiate the path through a thicket of Utah Maples, Hawthorne, and Poison Ivy. Emerging from the flora, the canyon opened up more deeply and there was a sweet swimming hole on the left! So we swam.
To protect from Poison Ivy exposure, we washed as best we could. After scrubbing our ankles with mud and sand in the shallow creek bed that was running out of the pool, we walked on down the canyon. The water continued, and the canyon got deeper, and more narrow. There were places where the creek bed was pure soft clay and mud, and you would walk in and immediately sink up to your knees. That's what is going on in this picture:
Notice that I am smiling. Any day hiking with your feet in mucky, goopy, sloppy mud is better than a day at work. Well, I am still smiling because I don't know what the hell is going on inside of my backpack at that moment in time. If I knew I wouldn't be smiling. More about that later.
So we hiked on down the canyon. We had to wade in some sections with chest-deep water with our packs over our heads. Other sections had softball-sized, slimy rocks that were really difficult to traverse. My feet were really tired when we were done hiking that day. But we found an interesting camp site and when I opened my backpack up, one of the more interesting and disgusting food mishaps that has ever happened in the whole history of backpacking was occuring in my pack. I smelled it before I actually saw the mayhem which ensued.
Irish Creme Liquor is a force of nature unto itself. As it dries, it leaves a super-sticky but delightful smelling mess. I had brought the smallest of flasks to enjoy with the coffee. To my dismay, after a long day of throwing, hauling, schlepping and tossing my pack, the lid had somehow become looser, and although I did not have a catastrophic lid failure, the leak occured for long enough that the whole inside of my pack was an Irish Creme air freshener. And where the liquor rested, it began to congeal, and was quite sticky. Where it was still liquid, it was very slimy in a buttery, creamy kind of way, which worried me because instructions on the official bottle said it didn't have to be refrierated, just stored in a cool, dark place.
Look...I'm not trying to disparage Irish Creme makers. I love Irish Creme, and I would have loved it in a cup of coffee as a treat. But after seeing what happens to it once it dries, I'm not really interested in having whatever that concoction is inside my arteries, veins, liver, stomach, or kidneys. Because of its consistency, it took a long time to clean up, and I had to finish the job once I got home with cleaner water. It could have been worse. At least it wasn't a DEET accident. Good god, that would have sucked. When I got up to put some of my things back into my pack the next morning, there were teeny tiny ants all over one sack in particular that was drenched with the stuff. I think the ants were drunk, because they weren't acting like ants at all. It was strange and funny.
My husband and I slept outside on our Therm-A-Rests and a sheet. Earlier we had set up the tent, but it was just too hot. I wasn't exactly into having a sweatlodge experience if it wasn't going to be the real deal. So we found the most perfect spot on top of this sandstone dome. My husband told me that he didn't expect to sleep--but then, suddenly, it was morning! We both slept very soundly. I was thrilled to have slept outside with the stars.
The next day we all walked on down the canyon to where Lake Powell officially began, which was where water backed up and the creek stopped doing what it was doing--running. On the way the walls of the canyon got taller and taller, and there were different colored stripes where the lake used to be in wetter years.
From there we walked on back to the car, this time heading up a different canyon. It was now Wednesday evening, and it was even hotter than it was hiking in on Tuesday morning. Oddly, as we hiked in the canyon bottom, in and out of the water, it was fairly cool, and we had lots of natural shelter in big, stone alcoves. It was actually pleasant hiking, as long as there was water. We decided to stop and take a long break in a little alcove heading back toward the car, and I fell asleep. I didn't think I would since I slept so well the night before. We continued up and out, away from the cooling water, and finally got to the car and got back to town at 8:30 last night.
I could go on and on here, and even get into more detail (and perhaps I should) but I think I've said enough for now.
My biggest problem with writing about these hikes is a) just sitting down and doing it, and b) finding ways to describe nature and the ecosystem around here that are not repetetive. I mean, how many times can you read about the big red canyon walls with black streaks? Really, when push comes to shove, they all look the same. Some canyon walls are just bigger and taller than others. So now that I have that out of the way, there will be no more descriptions of canyon walls.
We began the hike on Tuesday morning, June 20. It was hot. It was hot at 9:30 a.m. when we hiked from our very hot, unairconditioned, BLACK Chevy Suburban into the canyon. My husband and I had been cheerfully coerced into a mini-backpacking trip by our friends Ricki and Sandy. Since we don't get out very often from our day job in which, mercifully, we are the boss, we decided we should just leave and do the hike, even in 95+ tempuratures. After driving miles from town down the worst dirt road EVER, we arrived at the trail head.
From the parking area we slogged across sand, ultra-dried cow shit, crunchy weeds, and more sand until we found a very steep rock route into the dry end of the canyon. From there it was more dry hiking down in the canyon, through the worst dried grass that ever grew on the planet with seeds that stick in your socks and poke you. Suddenly, the beaten cow path veered hard right and we had to go downhill, where it was obvious that small springs were feeding into the canyon below at the bottom of the slope. We had to negotiate the path through a thicket of Utah Maples, Hawthorne, and Poison Ivy. Emerging from the flora, the canyon opened up more deeply and there was a sweet swimming hole on the left! So we swam.
To protect from Poison Ivy exposure, we washed as best we could. After scrubbing our ankles with mud and sand in the shallow creek bed that was running out of the pool, we walked on down the canyon. The water continued, and the canyon got deeper, and more narrow. There were places where the creek bed was pure soft clay and mud, and you would walk in and immediately sink up to your knees. That's what is going on in this picture:
Notice that I am smiling. Any day hiking with your feet in mucky, goopy, sloppy mud is better than a day at work. Well, I am still smiling because I don't know what the hell is going on inside of my backpack at that moment in time. If I knew I wouldn't be smiling. More about that later.So we hiked on down the canyon. We had to wade in some sections with chest-deep water with our packs over our heads. Other sections had softball-sized, slimy rocks that were really difficult to traverse. My feet were really tired when we were done hiking that day. But we found an interesting camp site and when I opened my backpack up, one of the more interesting and disgusting food mishaps that has ever happened in the whole history of backpacking was occuring in my pack. I smelled it before I actually saw the mayhem which ensued.
Irish Creme Liquor is a force of nature unto itself. As it dries, it leaves a super-sticky but delightful smelling mess. I had brought the smallest of flasks to enjoy with the coffee. To my dismay, after a long day of throwing, hauling, schlepping and tossing my pack, the lid had somehow become looser, and although I did not have a catastrophic lid failure, the leak occured for long enough that the whole inside of my pack was an Irish Creme air freshener. And where the liquor rested, it began to congeal, and was quite sticky. Where it was still liquid, it was very slimy in a buttery, creamy kind of way, which worried me because instructions on the official bottle said it didn't have to be refrierated, just stored in a cool, dark place.
Look...I'm not trying to disparage Irish Creme makers. I love Irish Creme, and I would have loved it in a cup of coffee as a treat. But after seeing what happens to it once it dries, I'm not really interested in having whatever that concoction is inside my arteries, veins, liver, stomach, or kidneys. Because of its consistency, it took a long time to clean up, and I had to finish the job once I got home with cleaner water. It could have been worse. At least it wasn't a DEET accident. Good god, that would have sucked. When I got up to put some of my things back into my pack the next morning, there were teeny tiny ants all over one sack in particular that was drenched with the stuff. I think the ants were drunk, because they weren't acting like ants at all. It was strange and funny.
My husband and I slept outside on our Therm-A-Rests and a sheet. Earlier we had set up the tent, but it was just too hot. I wasn't exactly into having a sweatlodge experience if it wasn't going to be the real deal. So we found the most perfect spot on top of this sandstone dome. My husband told me that he didn't expect to sleep--but then, suddenly, it was morning! We both slept very soundly. I was thrilled to have slept outside with the stars.
The next day we all walked on down the canyon to where Lake Powell officially began, which was where water backed up and the creek stopped doing what it was doing--running. On the way the walls of the canyon got taller and taller, and there were different colored stripes where the lake used to be in wetter years.
From there we walked on back to the car, this time heading up a different canyon. It was now Wednesday evening, and it was even hotter than it was hiking in on Tuesday morning. Oddly, as we hiked in the canyon bottom, in and out of the water, it was fairly cool, and we had lots of natural shelter in big, stone alcoves. It was actually pleasant hiking, as long as there was water. We decided to stop and take a long break in a little alcove heading back toward the car, and I fell asleep. I didn't think I would since I slept so well the night before. We continued up and out, away from the cooling water, and finally got to the car and got back to town at 8:30 last night.
I could go on and on here, and even get into more detail (and perhaps I should) but I think I've said enough for now.
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