Colorado National Monument

10/10/09

We were finally coming to an end. We had left Mesa Verde early in the morning, stopped to see the Black Canyon of the Gunnison then veered off the highway to one last little green spot on the map - Colorado National Monument. It took a little wheedling but I convinced Michael that we should at least see what this was all about. He wasn't too sure - how could anything interesting be found so close to Grand Junction. He was wrong.

Nestled into the hills are a network of canyons and mesas, needing to be explored. Not by us, at least not yet. Ute Canyon was the most intriguing for me and the creek wove its way through the cottonwoods just starting to turn. It seemed like a fabulous fantasy world and I wanted to follow the creek into another world. It was not to be - we needed to be on our way.

Add yet another treasure to the list of need to see more.

Flagstaff & Sedona

10/5/09

While planning our trip, Michael & I decided we wanted to see the communities of Flagstaff and Sedona. Both were places we wanted to see as they were in our dreams of being places we might desire to live.

Flagstaff came first on our journey out of the Grand Canyon. I had been thinking a lot about this Arizona mountain town for several years. I was wholly disappointed. This was not the quaint mountain town I had been dreaming about, but an average place with sprawl and without personality. Needless to say, we didn't stay long.

To drive to Sedona, we went south through Oak Creek Canyon. From the rim as we started do to the end where we came out to Sedona I knew that this was the place for me. Close canyon walls, pine forest along oak creek, multi-colored sandstone. I was loving it and here I wanted to stay.

And then we entered Sedona. If there is a more perfect setting for a town I can't think of it. The sandstone formations surrounding town made this little piece of heaven feel as if we had driven into a faerie land. I was smitten.

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.

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.

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.