The Chili Incident at the Paria

This trip is our 6th into Utah for this type of fun and games, and for the first time, we camped in exactly the same place when had in a previous trip. Our first visit to the Paria was 3 years ago, both of us remembered exploring the valley quite extensively before setting camp by Juniper just under the white cliffs. We liked it then, no reason to reinvent the wheel.
After being cooped up in hotels and on guided tours, we took advantage of good afternoon weather to get in a quick hike into Buckskin Gulch.

Our first night on the Paria was a bit reminiscent of the reasons we left the bush in the first place . . . cold and windy. Wilson talked me into packing snow pants because he had designs on skiing somewhere on this trip, that hasn’t happened yet, but those pants were the key to staying warm that night as we experienced mid 20’s and frozen water in the morning. Cooking, however, was a completely different story. Our first attempt was at Chili and grilled cheese. With the wind blowing hard, the coleman stove is just okay, so Wilson decided to give the chili a head start on the edge of the fire. With my stomach growling, and my mouth vocalizing that fact, Wilson stepped up the pace, putting the chili on a bed of coals. He bragged about his prowess in cooking cans on pea combine engines, and claimed the fire would just speed up the process. A few minutes later, both us were fussing with the tent when we heard a rather loud explosion. The chili had blown it’s pull top lid. The collateral damage was impressive, the entire contents were blown throughout camp, with chill bits making over 20 feet to the bikes. We didn’t find the lid until the final day, 37 feet from the campfire.

One of the reasons we like the Paria is the tremendous color pallete you can see from the valley floor. The valley was inhabited until 1930, then Hollywood discovered it in the 60’s, with The Outlaw Josey Wales being the last film in 1976.

On our previous visit, we wanted to hike Hackberry Canyon, a 400 foot slot canyon about 2 miles from our campsite as a bird flies. But as we all know, Curt and Amy can’t fly, so we are faced with two choices . . . walk across the weirdest muddy alkaline soil plain I have ever seen (for one mile), then walk down the Paria River through a box canyon (another mile), then walk up the Cottonwood wash until we find the gravel road (another mile), and then finally 2 miles of the Cottonwood road to the mouth of Hackberry Canyon. We tried that 3 years ago, and had no time or energy to explore the canyon. We chose the second option this time, a 33 mile (each way) drive to get to the same place. In hindsight, riding bikes to the Paria, then down the River to the gravel road may have been the best option. Nonetheless, we had ample time to explore the Hackberry, negotiating the entire slot portion then finding a nice lunch spot near an abandoned cabin in a broad valley.

Night #2 was a bit more pleasant, no wind, but it still cold, but not chilly enough to keep us from cooking up spicy Italian sausage and making a big vat of spaghetti.

Our second full day at the Paria left us with two choices . . . we had a pass to the South Coyote Buttes area, but after yesterday’s bone jarring drive, we both concurred that 17 miles down another non-maintained road was not our idea of a good time. (apparently there is an argument between Kane County, Utah and the BLM about the roads, a federal judge has intervened, but Kane County has chosen to read the decision one way, while the BLM reads it another way).

So . . . we settled on option two, which did not even require the use of the FJ . . . a bike ride, a river crossing, then up a narrow century old cattle trail to the slick rock mesas between the Paria and the Hackberry. What’s the last thing you would expect to run into on this hike ? I know that a real live cattle drive was not on our radar. As slow has that herd appeared to be, they kept gaining on us, we finally admitted defeat, climbed some rocks and watched them pass.
This hike happened on a Sunday, how do I know that when the actual day of the week just disappears when camping in the bush ? I knew it was Sunday, because the Old Man was mysteriously hiking with one arm outstretched and holding a device. What could this be ? His portable satellite radio of course, carefully held so it always had good exposure to the southern sky so that he wouldn’t miss a play from either the Seahawks-Cowboys and the Vikings-Packers game. This pic is from after the hike, note he still listening to football, and one of those empties is mine.
Last time we camped here, we had an unexpected visitor, a BLM ranger stopped by the make sure we a permit and offer advice as to the area, and don’t you know it, at about the same exact time of day (when we’re enjoying our coffee) we got another visit from a ranger. In all the many days I’ve spent on other BLM land in Utah, I have never even seen a ranger, much less had one stop by and say hello.

Another good meal and chilly night awaited us. We’ve finalized our closing plans . . . Las Vegas for the Breeder’s Cup, but that still leaves us with 3 days and nights . . . we’re undecided between Zion and the Grand Canyon. We’ll decid during morning coffee just after our patented 9:30am sunrise. We just love to find camps spots with gigantic mesas to the east.