Tree in Solitude

"I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity." - Albert Einstein

I read this quote from Albert Einstein and almost passed it by, before scrolling the page back up to look at it again. Then I imagined this tree, hunched over the canyon rim of Dead Horse State Park in Utah.

How fitting.

I had spotted this tree years ago on a trip to the southwest. The setting was simple - nothing in the background to distract except a dark grey sky. It was a vision of solitude. As a sapling, it must have struggled and fought for every inch gained for its roots and drops of water. Wind must have buffeted the poor young tree, threatening to tear it from the cracks in the rock. Maybe, if it had  other trees surrounding, the elements would not have been so harsh. Yet the tree withstood to grow in maturity with strength and beauty.

How many times in our youth do we yearn for someone to stand with us against the elements and when we turn to look for someone to buffer us we're standing alone? The only action we can take to survive is to dig in and hang on to our vision, beliefs, and selves. And in time, we too grow into our beauty and strength. We find we can stand on our own.

Cedar Breaks

10/3/09

I was quiet here. No sound except the crunch of leaves under my feet, the twitter of small birds and the wind through the trees. It was easy to lose myself in the solitude. No-one was here. We had nodded at a few people at the overlooks, watched as kids finished their Jr Ranger badges with one of only two rangers on duty at the visitor center. But it was late, in the day and in the year. A beautiful place such as Cedar Breaks must attract attention during the height of tourist season. Right now I was enjoying the fact that tourist season was definitely over.

A break in the trees beckoned me closer. I gingerly stepped to the edge of the amphitheater walls to admire the sandstone colors and formations spreading out below my toes. Clouds raced overhead hurried along by autumn winds carrying the cold of winter. The "canyon" or amphitheater of Cedar Breaks has eroded over the centuries from the same formation that has given us Bryce Canyon. They are sister canyons; Bryce faces east, Cedar Breaks faces west. Both are breathtaking. But I fear Cedar Breaks does not get the attention her more famous sister gets just a few miles away. Standing on the edge of the cliff right then, I was selfishly happy for that.

Thinking of Michael waiting for me in the car, I turned to continue along the trail the sun at my back. I knew he'd be napping, but the shadows were getting long and I didn't want to give him undue worries. As the trail turned up the hill away from the rim, I stopped to admire the autumn forest with it's browns and golds and spotted my first bit company of company on my journey - a young stag resting at the base of a tree. I said hello, he chewed. I thanked him for the photo opportunity, he watched me leave.

The pond was there at the top of the hill - a pretty little tarn filled with algae and reflections. I stopped to contemplate the color of light bouncing from the leafless trees to the pond to me. The sounds around didn't change; the wind rattled the high limbs of the trees around the pond as I left, my feet stepping on the dried undergrowth fallen across the trail. My heart jumped when my footsteps multiplied off to my right. I looked up the hill to see a pair of doe eyes staring back at me. We had startled each other. I excused myself and walked up the trail a few yards before turning around to watch as she and her fawn came out to the meadow.

Alone again on the trail, my spirits rose with the knowledge I alone saw these beauties. The last little bit of the trail passed before I was ready for it to end. I met Michael in the parking lot as the sun started to make its last dash to the horizon. Sure enough he had been napping, but that's what vacation is for. We drove to the northern overlook for sunset. Unprotected by a ridge as I had been on the trail, the wind was bitter and cold and sent me flying as the clouds back to the warmth of the car.

Fall Road Trip 2009

Four Corners, 10/2-10/9/09

There is a fabled land of strange yet beautiful landscapes. A place I visit every so often. Not nearly enough. Each image reminds me of what I love about the southwest and why I desire to return. I come from a land that is green and moist. I dream of a land that is brown and dry. The grass is always greener? For me it's either brown I desire or no grass at all.

Michael & I decided to hit a few places on this road trip that were either old favorites or something one or the both of us had never seen. Makes for a long list and an exhaustive trip, so we slimmed it down a bit and still almost tried to put too much in to our trip. We ended up cutting a few things out along the way and added a special place or two.

Read on and you'll visit four amazing states and places that mark them as extra special.

Winter Storm Advisory

4/4/09

The radio warned throughout the day that a winter storm was coming. And it hit Olympia and I as we hiked the rim trail. How bad it would get would only be discovered in the morning.

Wind buffeted our tent all through the night, even though the forecast was that the winds and storm would subside by midnight. To sty warm, I stuffed several hand-warmers into my sleeping bag and curled up with Olympia, covering her with the extra blanket I had brought along. Occasionally during the night I would wake up to snow drifting through the bug mesh - blown under the rainfly by the winds. We would awake to a desert winter wonderland.

The winds had not stopped at midnight, and with all the blowing snow I wasn't certain that the snow had stopped falling. I packed up as fast as I could, but first had to empty my boots of snow that I had left in the vestibule of the tent. Both the tent and rainfly were coated with snow. Six inch drifts formed against the tent and the tires of the car. I had to stomp around in the snow to find Olympia's water dish buried.

Our drive out was eventful. Winds shoved snow into drifts in the road. The bumper of the Subaru played snow plow through the drifts. The wind tried pushing the car around. And even in all this misery, the Moab Marathon was about to begin as I drove past the starting line.

Next year I'm going at the end of April.

Big Horn View & Rim Trail

4/3/09

I woke in the morning excited about hiking along the rim of Dead Horse Point. Clouds drifted through but there was enough sucker-holes to make me want to get on with it. So I grabbed my pack and the dog to explore the rim views and formations - hoping to see potholes and maybe a few animals.

We first went north from the campground to Big Horn View to see the potholes and at least get a couple of miles in just in case the weather turned yucky as it was predicted to do. Hiking in the desert is a lot different than hiking here in the northwest. The trail isn't always obvious and is often marked with little stone cairns which are easy to miss if you're not paying attention. I got side-tracked several ties where needed to stop take stock of the "trail" and turnaround for the real one. Even though the country is so open, I could easily see how I could get lost.

I let Olympia's leash drop so she could explore a little wider scope. But I held her close as we approached the cliff walls. I could also quickly grab it when people came by to both give the others a sense of security that my dog wouldn't jump all over them and give them kisses, plus the added sense that we were following the rules of the park. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, but come-on - it's Olympia, you know, Ole-Gimpy? All she wants to do is get belly rubs from anyone willing. And wildlife? chasing them is out of the question. She couldn't even chase her own tail with the legs she's got right now. So if letting her drag her lash behind her in the sand is evil, then I am sorry for you poor state of judgement.

We got back to camp for lunch and I downloaded the images I had so far taken on my trip. Then the sky cleared and Olympia jumped on the trail heading southward to the point. I figured we could hike that and be back in camp in time for dinner, relax a bit, get up early for sunrise then mosey on home. Yeah, I noticed that, I was already stretching beyond the day in my plans. Remember I mentioned the weather report? That the weather would take a turn for the worse? Well, what we had was the largest sucker-hole I'd seen in a long time. We were out for 2 hours enjoying the warmth and the views when the wind kicked up. Followed by rain, which in turn was followed by snow. and wee weren't even o the point yet.

The image above illustrates the drama a storm has as it slowly moves across the canyonlands. By the time wee made the point, both Olympia & I had had about enough but we still had a couple of miles to go before it was over. We hurried through the second half of the hike. I kept note of some of the views I wanted to see again but mostly wee just walked as fast as we could through the wind and snow.

Olympia went straight into the tent as I quickly heated up a can of chili and we ate in the pseudo-comfort of the tent. Winter was not quite over in the canyonlands.

6th Stop - Dead Horse Point

4/2/09

How this little section of Utah's canyonlands didn't become part of the National Park system is beyond comprehension. Utah definitely got the better end of the deal. The scenery from the rim all around the state park is jaw-dropping. I honestly believe that Dead Horse Point State Park contains better views than Canyonlands National Park. Michael was right, I was going to enjoy my stay in this little park.

Dead Horse Point got its name from an unfortunate incident back in the pioneer days. Cowboys would round up wild horses on the "point" of the mesa which with its narrow neck made a natural corral. The cowboys would then pull out the horses they wanted and release the ones they didn't. However, they didn't always release the horses and the captive horses would soon succumb to death from dehydration. Sickening, really. But that was the way they thought back then. So glad we know better now.

Still, the views are well worth any effort to see them.

5th Stop - Canyonlands National Park

4/2/09

After my drive through Arches, and a quick stop to set up camp at Dead Horse Point State Park, Olympia and I ventured into Canyonlands National Park. I hoped to catch sunset at one of the many overlooks. The late afternoon sun made the spring growth glow with color and light. And I saw many opportunities for hiking at a later date. We parked at an overlook and had dinner in the back of the car. Cold wind blasted us every now and then - and to think, earlier in the day I had contemplated putting on my shorts.

There is a certain beauty in the desert. I had fallen in love with it a few years earlier on my first trip here. It's almost a sense of complex simplicity. The colors and textures of the land elicit both a tension in your sight and a calming presence in your soul. And then there's the ability to see for miles. In western Washington, trees get in the way of the views. That's one of the reasons I love hiking in the alpine zone - no trees. I love the trees, the green, the moisture of life. But the desert tugs my heart to a different view of life.

4th Stop - Arches National Park

4/2/09

It was cold when I woke up. Cold pains shot through my fingers as I pulled down the tent. But I had to keep going, a reservation at Dead Horse Point awaited me. I kept thinking about a luke-warm shower would also await me after I packed up the car. Disappointment instead was my reality - the rangers had turned off the water during the cold snap. I almost cried and in fact did when I finally talked to Michael on the phone. The loneliness hit me hard and I was ready to head home. But Michael convinced me that I would enjoy my stay at Dead Horse Point.

There are two national parks near Dead Horse Point: Arches and Canyonlands. Even though Olympia was with me, I could not pass up the opportunity to visit either. So I turned off the road just before entering Moab into Arches.

I am often disappointed if I just drive through a park without getting out of the car for a hike or two. Although I enjoyed seeing the new scenery, I wished I could walk through some of the sandstone canyons and features. Too bad the Park Service has such a negative view on dogs. I understand their reasoning but Olympia is practically lame so wouldn't be chasing after anything - except maybe a tumbleweed - and I do pick up after her. I will just have to come back at some point for more exploration.

Temple Mountain and South Temple Wash

4/1/09

With satisfied appetites, I looked at the map for an adventure close to the park. An 8-mile canyon hike looked promising except for Olympia's inability to walk farther than just a few miles. As I was contemplating how to get Olympia through the canyon another nearby land formation caught my eye - Temple Mountain.

The guidebook stated that Temple Mountain is the highest point along the San Rafael Swell. This was something I just had to see. After getting warned of the old uranium mines in the area - highly radioactive, lots of radon . . . and bats - Olympia and I set off to explore the area leading to Temple Mountain. We wouldn't be able to reach the top as most of the upper trail had been destroyed by erosion, but I wanted to get a good view and get a little more walking in.

Along the way, we stopped to look at some ancient pictographs. chunks of sandstone with the paintings had fallen away either by erosion or stupidity. If it was stupidity, I'd like to kick a few chunks off the idiots who thought it would be fun to destroy this ancient art.

Olympia and I walked up old roads past abandoned mines and equipment. At one point this area was a thriving community of uranium miners. Then the bottom fell out of the market - odd thinking that since nuclear power had been the ideal power source for so long and is still highly recommended in some circles. We turned around after a good look at Temple Mountain, thinking this would be a great place to come for sunset.

On the way to Temple Mountain, I had noticed white rounded sandstone hills that looked like they might be fun to explore. And explore them we did. Little pockets of vegetation and expansive views of the prairie were what awaited us. Olympia even tried her paws at rock climbing when I climbed up a rock for a better view. She must have thought I was leaving her behind because I heard the scrabbling of claws on rock and turned around to see her hoist herself up the same incline I had just scrambled up myself. The determination of a dog, even a gimpy one.

By the time we ate dinner the wind had died down quite a bit and I was able to clean out the tent before heading back for sunset. Still, I would be shaking out sand even after I got home.

Carmel Canyon & the Valley of the Goblins

4/1/09

The wind continued to blow throughout the night, showering sand and grit through the bug-mesh on my tent. There was no escaping the grit. When I would leave the next day, I was still eating grit that found it's way into the cracks and crevasses of my gear. I was still cleaning grit out of my ears two days after I returned home. Just because it was the morning, the wind didn't let up. In fact it brought a little snow with it. Olympia & I huddled in the car, warming up a little and letting the band of snow pass before heading to the valley and one of the trails I wanted to scout - Carmel Canyon.

Desert hiking for a Northwesterner is a little disturbing. there are no easy trails to follow - in fact there are at times no trail at all. Just rock cairns spaced along the general route you want to follow. Several times along the Carmel Canyon trail, I had to stop to look back the direction I had just come from to make sure I hadn't somehow missed a pile of rocks. Olympia was happy just to roam from one sage to the next, smelling what had passed before. After we got through the open sandstone section of the trail, the cairns were easier to follow and we soon found ourselves meandering along with an arroyo.

There were distant views of sandstone mesas and the openness of the land made me want to run free or spread my wings and fly. Which could have been very easy as the wind still hadn't relented. Soon Olympia & I turned up in the canyon and followed the narrow channel as it twisted through the steep cliffs, becoming even narrower turning into a slot canyon. The last time I visited the Southwest, I spent much of my time in the slot canyons of Arizona - I fell in love. That love was one of the reasons I wanted to return to the Southwest. I feel as if cradled by my mother when I walk through the dark reaches of the earth.

We came back out into the parking lot, again buffeted by winds - the canyon walls had shielded us from the blowing onslaught. I figured this would be an opportune moment to explore the bizarre sandstone formations which give Goblin Valley its name. There are three sections to the valley, I stayed in the 1st one. Next time though I will spend far more time exploring them to the end. The variations of erosion on the land make for amazing shapes and shadows. I spent only a couple of hours weaving through the formations but could easily spend a whole day. As my stomach started rumbling and lunch still in camp, Olympia & I made our way back shielding our eyes from the sand carried by the gusting wind looking forward to our afternoon adventures.

3rd Stop - Goblin Valley

3/31/09

Such an ominous name - Goblin Valley. Brings up fairy tales of lost little girls in the wilderness besieged by monsters in the shadows. But no frightening creatures were there awaiting me and Olympia. What did great us were prairies, bluffs, sandstone cliffs . . . and wind.

This time I was ready. I staked down the tent to hold it still while I set up and grew quite envious of the campers tucked away behind sandstone outcrops - the wind didn't seem to buffet them around as much. I am sure the grit in their tents was considerably less.

Olympia and I scouted out the campground and wandered to the entrance station admiring the late afternoon light on the prairie. we snuggled into our tent when we returned. The winds coming across the prairie brought with them sand and grit that found their way under my rainfly and through the bug mesh on my tent. There is just something nasty about eating grit in the middle of the night. I began to understand just a little of what Helen Thayer went through in the Gobi.

The next day we would explore the goblins.

Spring Road Trip 2009

3/28/09-4/4/09

Another Spring and another road trip - and boy was I ready for this one. Early in the winter I learned that Frans Lanting would be speaking in Spokane for the PSA conference held there at the end of March. This time I would not miss the conference for Frans is one of my photography idols. I decided to plan this trip around going to Spokane and kicking off a fabulous photo vacation for myself.

This year I had the strongest desire to head back down to Utah planning 4 days near the Moab area: Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, Goblin Valley, and Dead Horse Point. There would also be a slight layover at Bruneau Sand Dunes as I had been wanting to visit there again.

Olympia would be my traveling companion. I enjoy this time by myself but I really do like having someone with me. Olympia's conversations aren't the best but she good company never the less.

So continue reading the stories are adventuresome and I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I had experiencing them.

The Perfect Image

I took this picture while driving through Southern Utah on my solo road-trip of exploration. (Previous blog entries detail my trip - too many to link here) Just south of Cedar City, the snow began to flutter down, at first looking as it was raining but definitely whiter and lighter. I zipped past this old abandoned ranch while looking for a rest area and knew immediately in the split second to see the old cabin in the trees that this was my shot. The perfect image for my trip. I quickly turned around to this spot in the highway, jumped out of my car into the wind and snow while wearing shorts and t-shirt, shot a couple of shots and continued on my way, a smile on my face. This is the image that defined my trip - solitude in the wilderness even close to population, with the weather whipping up its own troubles. I saw myself as that cabin that stood partially hidden in the trees with civilization so close yet with a feeling of being alone in the wilderness. Even with the snow I felt a sense of perfection while on my trip and am reminded of my thoughts as I gaze into this image. For me, this image sums up my trip, standing with the trees even in the snow. I wouldn't trade this image for anything, nor would I trade my experiences on the trip.

Zion

3/30/07-3/31/07

I arrived at Zion just as the sun was setting. I knew I would need to get to the campground as soon as possible - this is where I planned to stay but Zion fills up rather quickly on the weekends. And sure enough, I backed into one of the last two campsites available - handicapped. Hey! The campground host said I could. My plan was to take a few little day hikes then start my long journey home. The ranger at the visitor's center gave me a few ideas including Emerald Pools, Weeping Wall, and the River Walk to get a good feel of the park.

I visited the park on a Saturday, the last day before Zion went into their busy season. I would hate to tell them this but if their busy season starts on April 1st and April 1st is a Sunday, they had better darn well fire up the shuttle buses the day before the busy season. By 10 in the morning, cars were lining the road at the trail heads - not a parking spot was found. I was able to slip into the Emerald Pools and the Weeping Wall, but there was no way I could get into the River Walk - there were just too many people, too many cars.

However, the beauty of Zion is remarkable. I found the scenery more of a reflection of what I had seen before in New Mexico and dry high mountain areas. Unlike Capitol Reef and Bryce, where I gazed in wonder at the desert and sandstone formations, I admired Zion for its comforting trees and high valley walls.

As I left Zion (past a line of cars at the fee station a 1/2 mile long), I realized I would need to plan vacations for the next 10 years to fully explore just the places I had seen on this 1 trip.

Wire Pass

3/28/07

Now that I had one of my hiking fears put to rest, I decided to try out another one - hiking a slot canyon. The same BLM officer who recommended the Toadstools Trail also sent me down for a hike near the Coyote Buttes area in a slot canyon named Wire Pass. Both hikes were short and fairly close together so I was more than willing to hike them both in one day before heading down to page.

It was the idea of flash floods and Aaron Ralston that unnerved me so. All my southwest hiking books warned of the dangers of flash floods. My friends who have hiked in the southwest warned of the dangers of flash floods. All throughout my trip, my obsessive brain reminded me of the dangers of flash floods. And even though, the BLM officer assured me that no rain would fall anywhere today, I kept eyeing the heavy (snow-laden) clouds above and kept an ear open for the warning sounds of rushing water.

Not that it would help once I entered the canyon itself. Then there was Aaron, the poor guy who had to cut his arm off with a pen knife after the got pinned by a boulder while hiking through a slot canyon. I knew I would never be able to do that and would lie languishing in my fate, lost forever. Or, until the next hiker came by as this seemed to be a rather popular route.

This route was easier to follow. Just meander along the wash to the narrows of Wire Pass. As I entered the pass and the walls began to close in around me, I relaxed a bit. Still concerned with my own little fears but ready to experience this place: the sandy floor strewn with rocks, the smooth-looking walls with a fine texture, the curves, the swirls. I came to a drop, several feet over a boulder wedged between the walls. Buckskin Gulch was somewhere ahead but this would have to be my turn-around. I didn't have my pen-knife with me, nor a buddy to push me up on the way out. This will need to be explored later.

Toadstool Trail

3/28/07

So far I had hiked under a natural arch, up a canyon to a graceful waterfall, around rock chimneys, and a into a canyon filled with wondrous rock formations. However, all these hikes were trails, well signed and well marked. I arrived at the Toadstool Trail to another type of trail - actually not a trail at all but a route marked with cairns. This was the type of hike that bothered me so when I was planning my trip. I was filled with questions of doubt. What if I lost my way?

Toadstools is a short trail, close to the highway - a perfect hike to tentatively push my comfort zone. Test the edges, see how I do and maybe I'll allow myself a longer excursion next year. Yes, I had already decided that I would be returning to this dry, sky-filled country next March . . . or maybe next April. But for now I needed to find my way from cairn to cairn to the toadstool formations and back again.

A path meandered through the sage and grass, easily followed at this early stage. But I was soon deposited into a wash full of footprints. So far this wasn't too bad. As I traveled to each cairn my confidence grew and I could see the 1st of the toadstools perched on a tumble of rocks ahead. Toadstool formations have a skinny neck of sandstone supporting a round rock that looks as if touched would tumble to the ground.

I meandered around the sandstone plateau that is home to several of these formations. I could see and barely hear the highway off in the distance reminded of a few trails back home that run along the highway. Except for the occasional truck, a hiker may never know the road is just a few yards off through the trees. Here I was a little less than a mile away, in open country and smiled at the effect. I a lot of ways, this trip reminded me home - not only in the differences but there are also similarities.

Bryce Canyon

3/26/07-3/27/07

A fairy wonderland. That is what I thought as I stood on the overlook above Bryce Canyon, the hoodoos and clouds reflecting the light of the setting sun. I couldn't wait until morning when the sun would make them glow. But it was the canyon floor that beckoned. I spotted a trail below and thought, that's where I'm going tomorrow - down into the canyon and on that trail.

I greeted the morning with excitement; the early evening and orange juice seemed to have chased the developing cold away, or at least kept it at bay. I had scoped out my sunrise spot the evening before and headed there to watch the hoodoos glow with the reflecting sunlight. Sometime in the evening, the wind had picked up which made the already cold morning even more brisk. The weather report had predicted snow that evening and the clouds rolled through quickly. I wouldn't be there to watch the snow fall into the canyon, but I was going to go down in the canyon hoping to be out before the weather turned real nasty.

After figuring out the best loop through the canyon, I descended in awe at the towers as they ascended overhead. The wind immediately cut, the sun seemed to break free of the rolling clouds, and the clatter of the crowds on the rims diminished. It was the warmth I had felt on the plateau; the silence, the comfort. I was at peace here. This is what home feels like. There was no hurry, so I meandered along the canyon floor until the clouds started rolling back in and as I climbed my way out the wind buffeted me about.

It was time for me to go and true to my word, this became my mos favorite place yet. I had no doubts that tomorrow would show me another favorite place, but for right now, this one would do.

Kodachrome Basin State Park

3/26/07

I knew I wanted to stop here - a small corner of Utah scenery, beautiful but not magnificent enough to gain notice from national eyes. A few friends had been here and recommended I swing by if I got the chance - pretty things to see and not the crowds of the surrounding national parks. Sounded perfect to me.

Kodachrome Basin's claim to fame are its sandstone chimneys. More than 70 of these sand pipes dot the landscape between mountains and prairies. The sand pipes are a denser sandstone than the surrounding sandstone and as the softer sandstone eroded away it left these chimneys standing alone.

I was feeling rather ill when I arrived at he gate so decided to just drive around the park and get my bearings. Out in the prairies of Utah I would expect to see cattle roaming free and I had a a few occasions before reaching the park. Inside the park, however, I was surprised by a small herd of cattle slowly grazing around one of the chimneys. Chimneys inside a state park - I was a long way from Washington.

Thinking the solitude and loveliness were too good to pass up, I decided to at least walk around the nature trail. Assisted by the trail guide, I learned more about the sandstone in the area, plants and animals, and photographic opportunities. I was a little saddened when I left Kodachrome Basin - if it was in Washington, I would make it a favorite haunt - but I was still feeling sick and was hoping to make camp soon and curl up in my sleeping bags with a big jug of orange juice.

Lower Calf Creek Falls

3/26/07

I was concerned as I planned my trip with hiking in country where I had no experience hiking. I read a book about desert travel which only made my concerns grow. You see, I'm a northwest girl where finding your way is a matter of following the trail through the trees and knowing where you are by the look of the trees. In Utah, I would not have these benefits, in fact the trail may just be a route marked with cairns. I would certainly need all my route finding skills. But my skills were developed here at home. Did I mention I would be pushing the limits of my comfort zone? Cactus, scorpions, rattlesnakes, flash floods, deserts.

I felt comfortable hiking in Capitol Reef - the trail was short and I was never really alone. Someone was always nearby. Lower Calf Creek Falls was another story. The hike - just over 6 miles round trip with a negligible elevation change - was certainly manageable. However, I was the first on the trail and, it being a weekday, didn't have high hopes that a crowd would soon follow. I signed in at the trailhead, grabbed the trail guide and started out following the sandy trail.

Much to my relief, the trail was easy to follow through the loose sand. My trail guide stated that the best watermelons in Boulder were grown in the sands around the creek, sadly there was no evidence of this endeavour. More historical agricultural activity was noticed later as I passed fencing for frontier calf pens.

As the trail climbed over rocks so did the cairns and I dutifully followed. Passing a side canyon, I heard a wild turkey call. Spooked me a bit as I had just been thinking these rocks surrounding me would be perfect for mountain lions to ambush me. Luckily, no cougars were seen, neither did I see the turkey, saw his prints on the trail along with lizard tracks and a few dog prints.

The canyon narrowed slightly and I was soon struck by how close the waterfall seemed - and that it seemed to be coming from across the creek where no water fell. The echoes, would I get used to those? In a land where sound in dampened by the thickness of the moss, I don't experience wilderness echoes as I had here. Within no time, I was at a pool, standing across from the waterfall as it cascades over the mossy rock. I am so used to moss that I was surprised it stood out so much to me here. But moss in an area known to me as dry was a bit of a surprise. That and the richness of the green contrasted with the yellow of the surrounding rock.

It wasn't until I reached the side canyon of the turkey that I met my first hikers on the way to the falls. I returned to my tent without incident, packed up and went on my way proud that I had made it through my first significant hike in the southwest.

Hickman Bridge

3/25/07

My first hike on my little adventure went to Hickman Bridge in Capitol Reef. It's a short 2-mile round trip hike under a natural arch that took me two hours to complete. Hey! Leave me alone - I was playing snap-happy tourist. I started out on the trail at about 11 and figured I could easily run through these 2 miles then head up the road to hike the Chimney Rock trail. But playing tourist can take time and I wanted to see all that I could.

After grabbing the trail guide near the parking lot, I climbed slowly away from the Fremont River and soon stood atop the cliffs of Capitol Reef. The shimmering white stone of Capitol Dome filled my view eastward, the Fremont River valley stretched out to the west. From here I traveled through wash and desert, over and around slickrock. Up in the cliff, the trail guide pointed out, was a granary built by the Fremont people who had inhabited the valley centuries past. I got as close as I dared, without disturbing the site, but close enough still to peer inside. It was, of course, empty. Still I tried to imagine what it might have been like at the height of Fremont civilization when the granary was stocked and ready for leaner days.

I soon came upon Hickman Bridge: 125 feet high with a span of 133 feet. The first arch I had ever seen was when I was a child at Rialto Beach in Washington. My parents had taken my sister & I out to Hole-in-the-Wall, which had been carved out by centuries of waves. But Hole-in-the-Wall had nothing on Hickman. I sat below the arching span for a snack and listen to the sounds of the desert. A breeze wafted by, carrying with it the sounds of a family exploring the desert in their own way. A chipmunk scuttled by in search of crumbs, eyeing me suspiciously - or was that hopefully?

I later worked my way to an overlook that gave my a wondrous view of the Fremont Valley, the orchards lining the river's banks, and the plateau on the other side. It was difficult for me to go, but I promised myself that next year I would return here; explore this country and sit for as long as I wanted to listen to the wind - or listen to nothing at all.