It Is GRAND, and a New Policy

Although Zion promised to be warmer, we chose the Grand Canyon. The temps would be about the same as the Paria, and warmer in the canyon. We’ve been to Zion quite a few times in recent years, and we haven’t been to the Grand Canyon since my birthday in 2000. At that time, we hiked down to the Cedar Ridge on the Kaibab Trail. A puny 1123 ft decent. We were back at the moto lodge by noon. And the ‘cowboy’ bartender started feeding me White Russians. The next day was rough.

We roll into the park with time to pick a nice spot to photograph the moonrise. With all of our time outdoors, we were in tune to these things, and the moon is now full. Wilson pulls out one of his “by my calculations” and picks an overlook. The road to that overlook is bus access only, so we will jump on the bikes. Uh oh. Flat tire. We start walking up the road. OK, we need to walk quickly to make it on time. I spend the brisk 1.25 mile walk wondering why he couldn’t pick one of the dozens of other pull outs right off the road. Nonetheless, here is the result. We scan the only park campground that is open. There are plenty of sites, but it is already past dusk. We figured a motel was likely tonight, and the temps are dropping quickly. Besides, I need a shower. The afternoons have been too short to get in our camp showers. We’ll be better set up to succeed hiking in the canyon if we get a room. We settle in to our comfort, and Curt is busy on the computer. After checking the weather, he announces a ‘new policy’. We are campers, but there is no shame in sleeping indoors when temps are in the 20’s, the hotels are only $60 more than a campsite, and only 3 highway miles away. We add another night and hope to make it to the inner gorge tomorrow.

The hike was great. I was happy to see stimulus $ at work on the trail. The maintanence crew was using McClouds, but they didn’t have a LFD or a blaster, like my crew. I thanked them for their work. Millions of people will enjoy the trail for decades the way they are rebuilding it.

We quickly negotiated the first 1123 foot decent to Cedar Ridge in just under 40 minutes. Our next destination, Skeleton Point, is down there in the shadows, with the Inner Gorge running through the bottom of the tree. We reached Skeleton Point, another 1200 feet down, an hour later. Now it was decision time, we had a nice perch on a rock over looking the river . . . should we continue down to the inner gorge, or relax here and face just a 2300 ascent ? We both felt like our tanks were full, so we headed down to the inner gorge, another 1000 feet below. We're headed to the plateau just above my PB&J sandwich.

The day hikers were thinning out, it was us and some German guy in white sneakers and jeans. We reached Tipoff, found another nice rock ledge, and enjoyed lunch (my final Italian meat sandwich) and tried to take in the scene without thinking of the 3300 ascent that awaited us.

I was jealous of the hikers who continued down the trail, all were staying at the Phantom Ranch, a great option if you can plan your stay 23 months in advance. When we started the Kaibab trail, there were hundreds of people slogging up and down, the further we went, the less people we saw. After the German guy sped past while we ate lunch, we were nearly alone. It was still 4 hours until dark, and the trail was deserted except for us, a lone Ranger, and a group of folks who looked like they would be challenged to reach the bottom before next week. It was kind of spooky on the way up, the shadows lengthening, the rim seemingly out of reach, and no people for the final two hours. Curt divided the ascent into three stints, and we just focused on keeping the feet moving between each stop. Ipod’s helped, as did the warm temps. We based our return plan on the setting sun, and were rewarded by catching up to the warm sunlight, and keeping the shadows a comfortable and consistent 300 feet below us. Surprisingly, the 5 mile ascent took almost exactly the same amount of time as the descent, 3 hours and change. We were both thrilled to have tripled our distance from our last Grand Canyon foray, and figured we could have done the Rim to River if we had started earlier in the day. Perhaps, we will take that one on next March during Spring Training, or we could plan like normal people and spend the night at the bottom.

Obviously, Grand Canyon is spectacular. However, the gateway town of Tusuyan left much to be desired. I knew the food was going to be crappy, as was most of the service. I kept wondering what the overseas visitors were thinking of the crappy breakfast buffet, and piss poor dining options. Is this the best we can do? Both Tusuyan and Ruby’s Inn (Bryce) should take note of Moab (Arches, Canyonlands) and Springdale (Zion). Those gateway towns have become destinations in their own right.

After having spent several hours in the Canyon, and witnessing 2 dazzling sunsets, we decide that and another day of riding bikes along the Rim would be nice, but repetitive. Thus, we decide to head out the following day and stick to the Colorado River theme by camping on Lake Mead or Lake Mojave before heading to Las Vegas so Wilson can pay for the trip by crushing the Cup.

Good idea by us, poor execution by the National Park Service. Apparently, campers are not welcome in these parts. Our first stop was Lake Mojave, just below Hoover Dam, a wonderful oasis in Black Canyon. Perfect for boaters, but no camping allowed. Across the desert we went, this time to Temple Bar on Lake Mead, no camping allowed anywhere except the official campground which happened to be under construction. We took this as a sign, and looked to the western sky, was that another astounding sunset, or was that the light display from the newly built Trump Tower in Vegas? We are officially out of the bush. There will be no pics from Vegas, unless of course, I hit 3 straight 00’s on the roulette wheel, or Wilson cashes an IRS trifecta. We’ll recap the weekend and the overall trip on the way home! Good luck to us.

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.

Snoab

High winds and cooling temps in Hite forced us indoors for a break. We made good use of our time in Durango, but now 8-16 inches of snow has been forecast, so we’ve decided to move west to Moab. We checked into another Best Western, and quickly headed out of town to a slick rock area for some riding before dark and/or snow set in. With temps in the low 40’s, I chose to stay in the car and read while the Old Man got in a solid one hour ride. After returning to town, we updated the blog until we got hungry, then bundled up for the 50 yard walk to a favorite Italian place in Moab, only to find it closed for a Halloween Party on October 27. We settled for some decent Baja style Mexican food and called it night early without even stopping by one of the wild and crazy Utah bars.

We woke to snow on Wednesday morning, and decided this would be perfect weather to attack the Fiery Furnace in Arches N.P. We packed our lunch and all the warm clothes we had and headed out early. A quick stop at the Arches visitor center resulted in 2 passes for the 2:00 tour of the Furnace. The nice lady said this had been the first day in six months that there was same day passes available. With a few hours to kill, we headed into Canyonlands N.P. This park is located above Moab on a mesa between the Colorado and Green Rivers, and I emphasize the word “above”. It was a balmy 42 in Moab, but only 28 degrees at the Islands in the Sky. We bundled up and hit the rim trail.
Once again, we found ourselves saddled with a “guided tour” instead of exploring on our own at the Fiery Furnace. The visitor center doesn’t advertise the self guided permits, they lead you to believe that the guided tour is the only way you can access the Furnace. This part of Arches is a series of vertical fins about 100-200 feet tall with narrow pathways in between. Some of those trails lead to another trail, while others are dead ends via a canyon wall or a cliff. In hindsight, a guide was nice but not necessary, but once again we had an engaging park employee who seemed genuinely interested in educating us about the fragile and adaptive desert environment. No pics from here to post, my camera made the trip into the Furnace.

We felt satisfied, snow flurries throughout the day and we managed to stay warm and see something new. With the October 27 behind us, the Italian place was open for regular business. Curt got the whole bar in an uproar when he asked for the World Series, it turns out they couldn’t find FOX and once Curt asked, the more obnoxious patrons chose to carry the torch kind in a loud manner until the hostess was able to locate the game.

After 2 nights in Moab, we’re antsy to get back into the bush. We check out Thursday morning and head south to Page, Arizona and drive through a storm that only northwesterners can appreciate . . . the sun poking through the clouds for 20 minutes, snow falling, and more snow drifting actross the road.
In spite of the bad weather, the drive was quite entertaining. The route takes you through Monument Valley, which we happened to hit with good skies and patches of snow on the Mesas. Page felt like Baja when we arrived to 58 degrees in the late afternoon. With temps forecast in the 20’s that night, the bush will wait one more day, thus we checked into our favorite moto lodge and paid the princely sum of 62 dollars with breakfast included. Then the Old Man left the complex instead of going to the room. Apparently, he learned from my reluctance to visit the Golden Spike or the Powell Museum and chose not to disclose our location until we arrived at Glen Canyon Dam (just one mile down the road). Six dollars later and we were the proud holders of two passes to the 4:00 Dam tour. Out we went, onto the top of the dam and then a long elevator ride to the bottom. Curt spent too much time looking at the turbines, I have fears that he is going to try and generate power on his own. We finished the night with a joke that doesn’t seem to get old. . . we dined at the Dam Bar, I had Dam Barbecue, Curt had Dam Chicken Fried Steak, we had a few Dam Beers, (all real names on the menu) we a Dam decent time. Tomorrow, we head to the Dam Paria River, set of that Dam fine movie, The Outlaw Josey Wales.