March 21-25, 2004

By Tim Briese

The canyon country of southern Utah is one of my favorite places to visit in the Spring. The colorful and spectacular scenery, endless hiking opportunities, and generally mild weather make it a wonderful destination at this time of year.

During the last week of March I went on a Spring Break trip to the canyon country with my wife Teresa and daughter Emily. We drove to Utah on Saturday and found a fine backcountry spot to camp at the mouth of Black Dragon Canyon a few miles west of Green River. That night we were treated to a dazzling display of stars in the clear desert sky as we sat around a pleasant campfire. We rose early the next morning and packed up before driving 30 miles south to Crack Canyon.

All of us had hiked Crack before but we wanted to return and do it again because it is one of our favorites. We drove south on Highway 24 across the San Rafael Desert about 23 miles from I-70 before turning west on the road that leads to Goblin Valley. After five miles or so we reached a junction and stayed to the right on the Temple Mountain Road and followed it between the towering walls of the magnificent San Rafael Reef. Just beyond the reef we went left at another junction and followed a winding dirt road along the west side of the reef. Crack Canyon is unmarked and not easy to find without good directions. I first heard about the canyon in Michael Kelsay=s book ACanyon Hiking Guide to the Colorado Plateau@ several years before. Kelsay vaguely directs the reader to Ago 8 or 9 km south@ on the road we were on, which is hardly precise enough to easily find the way. I measured the distance to be 4.2 miles to a cairn that marked a spur road to the left that led toward Crack Canyon. We followed the short spur a few hundred yards to a parking area by a few juniper trees.

The day was rapidly warming up, and we wanted to get underway before it got too hot. At 9:45 we left the trailhead with our lab Allie and headed southeast down a wash toward the opening of the canyon about a half mile away. A couple of other parties had four-wheeled down the wash a short distance and camped along the way. Presently we hiked into the canyon between towering sandstone walls glowing in shades of gold, beige, and orange. Interesting shapes were gracefully carved into the sandstone by the erosional forces of wind and water. We soon came to a fascinating place where water had carved a tunnel-like passage through the stone.

The canyon is typically bone-dry except for small pools of water that may stand here and there during parts of the year. We saw only three such pools on this hike, and they were no more than six feet across or so, just big enough for our dog to cool off and get a drink. The only time that water flows down the canyon is after major storms. This would be a very dangerous place to be during a flash flood, as evidenced by a piece of driftwood we saw lodged in a gap 20 feet above the canyon floor.  Crack Canyon has a number of pour-offs, or drop-offs along its floor where water falls over ledges during the rare times when it flows. These pour-offs can prevent easy passage for hikers up and down the canyon. There are three significant ones, involving drops of six to eight feet. They can be negotiated fairly easily by most able hikers, but a few would be turned back by them. Two of the pour-offs had pieces of driftwood leaned against the rocks to serve as crude but convenient ladders, while the third could be carefully circumvented by way of a ledge on its western side. We found it necessary to assist Allie in getting past two of the three major pour-offs.

On the way down the canyon we saw no one else except for a pair of hikers who had come up the canyon from below. After a mile and a half or so we reached a fine section of narrows about a hundred yards long, where it was pleasantly cool in the shade of the high sandstone walls. After this section the canyon continued to twist and turn to the southeast. The walls were now lower and we knew that the best of the canyon was behind us. We continued for another half mile before deciding to turn around and retrace our steps, induced partly by the heat of the midday sun. The temperature was a rather warm 75 degrees. I can only imagine what it would be like doing this hike in the summertime when the temperature is often over 100 degrees! We stopped for lunch at a shady spot and entertained ourselves with a pebble-throwing contest, seeing who could throw small rocks first into selected holes eroded into the opposite canyon wall a few feet away.

The pour-offs were simpler to climb back up than they had been to descend, and we rapidly proceeded back up the canyon. Near the upper end we met four older hikers with two large dogs going down the canyon. We stopped and talked with them about the pour-offs, and we wondered afterwards if they were able to handle them.

At 2:30 we returned to the truck and packed up to leave, after hiking an estimated six miles roundtrip. We drove south to the Hite Marina on Lake Powell, intending to camp on the shore of the lake that night. We were shocked to find the marina gone and the upper end of the lake dried up, as a result of the multi-year Western drought which had left the water level in the lake down 100 feet! We accordingly changed our plans and continued east on spectacular Utah Highway 95, with a brief stop to enjoy a sunset view from Salvation Knoll, before retiring in a motel in Blanding that night.

Day 2: Behind the Rocks and Tukuhnikivats Arch

On Monday morning we headed north from Blanding on Highway 191 toward Moab. At the crest of a long grade about 12 miles south of Moab we turned left on a dirt road and followed it a half mile before turning right at a fork and four-wheeling another mile to the edge of an area called Behind the Rocks. This vast and primitive 50 square mile area lies on a plateau just southwest of Moab, and consists of a vast labyrinth of slickrock domes, arches, fins, and deep canyons. Weeks could be spent exploring it, and it is said that parts of it may be yet untouched by humans. In all of the hiking we have done in the Moab area over the years we had never been there, and looked forward to sampling its wonders now.

From the spot where we parked we struck off to the northwest about 11 a.m. and bushwhacked up into an area of slickrock domes, climbing up over ridges on slopes of sandstone and loose sand. After a half mile we passed the upper end of Conehead Valley and continued up to the crest of a ridge to the north. It was a warm day again, almost uncomfortably so for hiking, but the enchantment of the scenery lured us on. The view to the east down into the Spanish Valley and across to the La Sal Mountains was most impressive.

Allie=s paws were painfully sore from hiking on sandstone the day before so Emily elected to take her back to the truck at this point. Teresa and I continued on and found an old four wheel drive road that we followed northward a half mile to its end. On a ridge high above to the northwest we spied Tukuhnikivats Arch, and followed a lightly cairned trail a quarter of a mile up a small valley through the slickrock wilderness in its direction. The crude trail brought us to the crest of the ridge about 25 yards north of the arch, and we quickly scampered over to have a look at it. The arch picturesquely frames Tukuhnikivats (Aland where the sun shines longest@) Peak in the La Sal Mountains across the valley. The arch is a rather small one compared to other ones we have visited in Utah, but its spectacular location makes up for its lack of size.

We sat in the shade of the arch and enjoyed the panoramic view off to the east while we ate our lunch. Afterwards we climbed a hundred feet to the summit of a slickrock dome a short distance to the south where we were rewarded with a commanding view of the Conehead Valley and other points beyond far to the south.

At this point we retraced our steps to the truck. We arrived there about 2 p.m., completing the three mile hike. Then we drove into Moab, where we met our other daughter Nicole, who drove from Colorado with her lab Jorie that day, and we stayed at a local motel that night.

On Tuesday morning Emily left with Nicole for Phoenix, leaving Teresa and I to hike by ourselves for the rest of the week. We decided to visit some new places we had never been to before and headed for Escalante in the southwestern part of the state. We drove through magnificent Capitol Reef National Park and then went south on Scenic Byway Utah Hwy.12 up over Boulder Mountain to the tiny village of Boulder. South of Boulder the highway passes through an incredible ocean of white slickrock that is carved by stunningly picturesque canyons. Highway 12 from Boulder to Escalante enjoys a reputation as one of the more scenic routes in the nation, and I would not disagree.

Far below to the right lay the depths of Calf Creek Canyon, and the highway made daring sweeps along the brink of sandstone cliffs at the canyon=s rim before descending sharply at a 14% grade to the bottom of the canyon, where we parked at the trailhead for the popular three mile hike up the canyon to Calf Creek Falls.

At about 3:30 we headed up the sandy trail in the canyon bottom with our two labs Allie and Jorie. We had purchased some dog boots for Allie in Moab to protect her tender front paws, and she was quite a humorous sight running up the trail with her boots making a sound that closely resembled a horse=s gallop. The easy trail climbed gently up the canyon beside the stream that flowed along its floor, winding amidst bushes and trees that grew there. Colorful sandstone walls towered above. Several other hikers were on the trail, too, most of whom were returning from the falls since it was now late in the afternoon. A couple from Iowa with two small children were hiking up the trail behind us. I thought the children would soon fade and slow down but surprisingly they almost kept up with us.

After about an hour and 15 minutes we rounded a bend and saw Calf Creek Falls pouring gracefully over a high sandstone cliff just ahead. The majestic falls are about 125 feet high, and are said to be among the finest on the Colorado Plateau. They were indeed quite a picturesque sight flowing over an orange sandstone cliff and splashing into an emerald green pool below. A delicate mist cooled the air, and the cascading water created a most pleasant and refreshing sound. Water is a precious and vital sustainer of life, and nowhere is this more strikingly apparent than in the arid reaches of a desert. The falls were located at the end of a deep box canyon, and cliffs barred further access up the canyon.

The dogs took a refreshing dip in the chilly waters of the 100 foot wide pool at the base of the falls. I would have probably joined them had it been a hot summer day, but not today. A few other hikers soon arrived. Hushed tones of voice seemed most appropriate in this hallowed place.

After a half hour or so we began to retrace our steps back down the trail. We completed the six mile hike at 6:30, and continued down the scenic highway another 20 miles to Escalante, where we stayed that night.

Escalante, Utah is a small, remote town of 900 people that lies at the threshold of the vast and primitive Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. This recently established monument is an incredible 2700 square mile wilderness that encompasses much of far southern Utah, and is one of the most remote areas in the continental United States. The AGrand Staircase@ refers to an ascending series of technicolor cliffs that rise in bands of vermillion, white, gray, and pink over many miles in the southern part of the monument, exposing 200 million years of the planet=s geologic history in a grand and dramatic sweep. There are almost no established trails within the monument, and only a handful of dirt roads offer limited access into its interior. It is a land of scenic, geological, and archeological wonders. It is far removed from the pressures of civilization, and parts of it are perhaps not even yet fully explored. It is a place that is best explored on foot, preferably on multi-day backpacks.

Early on Wednesday morning I went to the BLM office in Escalante and inquired about good dayhikes in the area and was given several excellent suggestions by a helpful woman there. At 8 a.m. Teresa and I drove southeast out of town on the graded dirt Hole-in-the-Rock Road, which penetrates the northern portion of the vast monument. This 54 mile long road eventually terminates at the historic Hole-in-the-Rock site at Lake Powell, where Mormon pioneers cut an impressive notch into the cliffs in order to descend several hundred feet in a dramatic wagon crossing of the Colorado River. After driving about 12 miles down the road we took a short side road to the Devil=s Garden, a fascinating area of colorful rock hoodoos that stand in silent watch over the area. After a half-hour stroll here we continued down the road and took a fork to the left and drove ten miles on a rough unimproved dirt road to the Egypt Trailhead, which lies on the rim of the vast and scenic Escalante Canyon system. There were over a dozen other vehicles parked at the trailhead, most of which belonged to backpackers who were somewhere down in the wilderness below. In the distance about three miles away we could see a splash of green trees in a canyon bottom, which we thought might indicate the location of the Escalante River, our goal on this primitive hike.

At about 10 a.m. we headed down a steep slope on beige slickrock and descended several hundred feet into the drainage below. We bushwhacked across the rocky wilderness, generally following the upper reaches of a drainage which we assumed was Fence Canyon, a tributary of the Escalante. There was no real trail to follow, and cairns scattered about did not seem to mark any definite route, but they at least told us that someone had been this way before. The bottom of the drainage became troublesome to follow, with steep pour-offs and sharp steps often impeding our progress. The sketchy written route description I had been given at the BLM office that morning casually suggested staying on a ridge that separates two forks of Fence Canyon, advice which we would have been well-advised to follow more closely.

After hiking some distance down the drainage we went through a short section of narrows and came to a cliffy pour-off over a hundred feet high that barred further passage down the canyon! Here we found another pair of hikers, the only other ones we saw on the entire hike, facing the same dilemma and wondering what to do. It may have been possible to stay above the cliffs on the right and eventually find a way back down into the canyon, but we elected instead to retrace our steps a couple of hundred yards and get up on the ridge to the left above the canyon, a route that looked more sure of yielding success.

Sure enough, we found a nice cairned route up on the ridge that took us easily in the direction we wanted to go, and soon we switchbacked down into Fence Canyon on a sandy trail. The bottom of the canyon=s lower end was filled with bushes and trees that thrived on precious water that trickled down a tiny stream that flowed there. The dogs eagerly jumped into refreshing pools of water and lapped up a well-deserved drink, for it was a warm day. We clipped on down the trail in the canyon bottom and in less than half a mile reached the sandy bank of the Escalante River, where we sat in the refreshing shade of a boulder to enjoy our lunch.

The river was about 30 feet wide and 2 feet deep, and flowed rather swiftly with Spring runoff from mountains a long distance away. I was surprised that this major river that drains hundreds of square miles was no larger than this. I had to remind myself that this was, after all, a desert, where water is scarce and precious. We had descended about 1100 feet from the canyon rim to reach the river in a little over two hours, on a route somewhat rougher than we had anticipated. While we rested Allie lay beside us and took a nap while Jorie repeatedly plunged into the river to retrieve leaves that she saw floating by. After a half hour we left this refreshing place and began the climb back up out of the canyon. I did not look forward to going back up the loose sandy slopes to regain the ridge but it turned out to be easier than I expected, for we were often able to find rocky slopes beside the sandy trail that afforded better footing. We stayed out of the bottom of Fence Canyon and stayed up on the ridge as long as possible, which proved to be a much better route than our earlier one. We worked our way across the slickrock wilderness and then made the final grueling push back up the slickrock slope to the trailhead, where we arrived about 2:30.

It felt good to finish this strenuous hike. The exhausted dogs flopped down to rest after drinking a bowl of water. We chatted briefly with a friendly male backpacker who had just completed a solo five day backpack through the maze of canyons below.

After driving back out to the Hole-in-the-Rock Road we continued ten miles further down the dusty, washboardy road to the Dry Fork Trailhead. Our goal this time was to hike into Peekaboo and Spooky Gulches, reputed to be two of the best slot canyons anywhere. These canyons are among the most popular destinations in the area because of their easy access and spectacular scenery. We parked our truck in the shade of a juniper tree and left the dogs inside this time, since they had had enough for the day. We found out later that dogs are not permitted in these slot canyons anyway.

At 4 p.m. we struck off down a trail that descended into Dry Fork Canyon below, and met several hikers coming up, including two families with small children. The sandy trail quickly descended 300 feet to the canyon floor. After hiking a quarter of a mile down a wide, sandy wash in the canyon bottom we saw the narrow slot of Peekaboo Gulch on the left. Peekaboo is a small tributary of Dry Fork, and it is a hanging canyon, with its entrance suspended on the face of a cliff. We found it necessary to climb a 12 foot pour-off to climb up into its lower end. Fortunately there were some convenient steps cut into the sandstone to assist in this undertaking. Peekaboo was quite unlike any slot canyon I had been in before, with sweeping, rounded twists and turns as well as arches above. There were some challenging steps and pour-offs to negotiate, too, four or five feet in height, which proved to be rather tricky to negotiate. One of these steps gave Teresa fits, for she slipped into a pool of mud at its base and then found her boots too slippery to get adequate traction on the smooth sandstone. After numerous tries she finally removed her boots and climbed up over the step barefoot, with some assistance from me. Our progress up the canyon was very slow, and available time of daylight was rapidly diminishing, so I began to wonder what we had gotten ourselves into. After a couple of hundred yards the going got easier, though. We did not care to return down the rough canyon and downclimb the entry pour-off, so we found a place we could climb up out of the canyon on the right side and then hiked a third of a mile across a sandy ridge on a faint trail over to the entrance of Spooky Gulch, following the suggestion of a hiker we had talked to at the trailhead.

Fortunately this route took us to the bottom of Spooky rather than its upper end, so we could just go in partway and back out, if need be, rather than have to go its entire length. Indeed, Spooky Gulch is not for everyone, for it is an extremely narrow slot canyon, only 11 or 12 inches wide in some places! It is impassable for portly hikers, and certainly for the claustrophobic as well. We hiked up its narrow confines for a hundred yards or more, finding it necessary to remove our packs and squeeze through sideways in some places. It turned out to be simpler to negotiate than Peekaboo, though, because its bottom was smooth and sandy and didn=t have any steps.

After we had seen enough we returned to the mouth of the canyon and hiked back up the sandy bottom of Dry Fork in the direction of Peekaboo Gulch. After hiking a while I began to wonder if we were in the right place, for nothing looked familiar and the map we had been given was quite crude. This was no time to get lost because the sun was already setting! I think my sense of routefinding was dulled by tiredness after our long day of hiking. We presently reached familiar ground, though, and climbed back up out of the canyon to the trailhead. We arrived there at dusk, a little past 6:30, having completed about two and a half miles on this loop hike.

We headed toward Escalante and drove back up the Hole-in-the-Rock Road in the dark. I noticed that not a single manmade light could be seen anywhere on the vast horizon in this remote place, probably one of the few places in the United States where this is so. We stopped at the Devil=s Garden and started a cozy campfire at one of the picnic sites there and cooked our dinner and drank a cold beer while gazing at the desert stars blazing in the sky above. It felt wonderful to relax around the warm fire and reflect on all the scenic grandeur we had seen that day. After a pleasant hour or two we returned to Escalante and turned in for the evening.

We were in no hurry to get going today after our long day of hiking yesterday, so after a leisurely breakfast in Escalante we continued west on scenic Highway 12. It was a beautiful day with a deep blue sky, and the canyon country colors shimmered in their finest hues of orange, gold, and beige. At Cannonville we headed down the Pariah River Valley on the paved road that leads toward Kodachrome Basin State Park, and after nearly three miles we turned right onto the dirt Skutumpah Road and followed it six miles southwest to the trailhead. There was one other vehicle parked there, a Subaru from Colorado. It was interesting to note that there were more vehicles from Colorado than from Utah at most trailheads we visited this week!

Shortly before noon we left the trailhead and headed downstream along Willis Creek in the warm spring sunshine. It was a rare and pleasant treat to walk down a canyon beside a flowing stream in this arid land. The stream was only a small one, perhaps three feet wide and three or four inches deep, but size was unimportant. Most of the Utah canyons we have hiked have not had a stream at all. The canyon walls soon narrowed and we walked down an exciting and beautiful section of narrows, frequently crossing from one side of the stream to the other or walking right down the middle of it.

It was quite a surprise to go around a bend and find a section of ice lying in the canyon bottom, the first of many we encountered in the shady confines of the canyon=s narrow sections. It was a shocking reminder that winter had not long since departed, in spite of the 65 degree temperature today. Numerous shelves of ice lying in the canyon bottom were being melted away from beneath by the stream, leaving unstable surfaces to walk across in many places, so we had to carefully skirt around their edges. We were treated to several scenic sections of narrows, with high golden sandstone walls towering above. This canyon hike turned out to be a finer one than we expected.

The portion of southwest Utah that we visited lies generally at a slightly higher elevation and receives more precipitation than the state=s southeastern deserts, which allows more junipers and pines to grow, adding an element of living green color that augments the colorful desert hues. This was a refreshing change from the more desolate but still colorful scenery we had seen earlier in the week.

Our labs were certainly in their element on this hike, with our route following the stream all the way down the canyon. They exuberantly ran in and out of the water all the way. The mud along the stream consisted mostly of a sticky clay, which clung to their fur like glue. They didn=t mind a bit, but we wondered how we would get them clean later!

After hiking about a mile and a half we met a friendly couple from Englewood, Colorado hiking up the canyon and we chatted with them for a moment before continuing. After going a short distance further I noted a gigantic conifer tree standing on the floor of the canyon a few feet from the stream, perhaps four feet in diameter and 75 feet tall. It was an unusual giant of the desert, and was no doubt well-watered and nourished in this prized location in the canyon bottom.

The canyon walls became taller near its lower end, perhaps 100 to 200 feet high. After hiking a little over two miles we came to a junction where Willis Creek Canyon joined Sheep Canyon. Sheep Canyon was dry upstream, but the waters from Willis continued merrily on downstream in Sheep. We hiked a couple of hundred yards down Sheep and then decided to turn back. We found a pleasant shady spot near the junction of the two canyons and sat on a rock and ate our lunch.

The hike back up the canyon was a pleasant one beside the gurgling stream, back through the narrows and along the icy shelves. A cool, pleasant breeze blew out of the northwest under the deep blue sky. At 2:45 we returned to the truck and headed back up the road.

As we drove over a ridge we were treated to a fine view of Powell Point several miles to the north. It is one of the highest points in the area, with an elevation of 10,188 feet. We continued west on Highway 12 through the north end of Bryce Canyon National Park and were treated to nice views of some of its classic colorful spires along the highway.

Before heading home we decided to drive through Zion National Park, one of the finest showcases of Utah=s canyon country scenery. We approached the park from the east from Mt. Carmel Junction. It had been at least ten years since we had been there, and I had forgotten how stunningly beautiful this place is. The highway traverses an incredible area of massive slickrock domes and colorful cliffs before going through a mile-long tunnel and descending sharply into spectacular Zion Canyon. There is no place quite like Zion Canyon in the world, and its 2000 to 3000 foot sheer sandstone walls are among the tallest on the planet.

We drove slowly up the scenic road in the canyon, gazing up at the neck-bending views of the walls and pinnacles above. The late afternoon sun provided spectacular colorful lighting on the white and reddish sandstone. The Great White Throne (6744') was an awesome sight, its summit towering a vertical half mile above. We stopped when we reached the end of the road, at a point where the canyon narrows considerably, and walked about here for a few minutes, in hushed silence. A small waterfall poured over a cliff more than a thousand feet above. We were nearly surrounded by sheer vertical walls that soared to tremendous heights above.

I felt that I was in a sacred place, and reverence and awe seemed most appropriate. I was filled with a quiet and hushed spirit. I have been graced to behold many scenes of grandeur in the mountains and other places over the years, but it has been a long time since I have been touched by the spectacular grandeur of Nature as I was in Zion Canyon on this magnificent evening.

We returned slowly down the canyon, and drove out of its lower end just in time to see the last rays of sun shining upon The Watchman (6545') at sunset. That evening we stayed in the nearby town of Hurricane, and then drove home the next day.

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