An Early Season Hike

Barclay Lake 4/29/07 4 miles

To round out my weekend of hikes, I took my friend M.M. on a short but sweet hike to Barclay Lake. Only a scant 2 miles in to the lake with a minimal elevation gain it's a wonderful way to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon. Barclay Lake is overlooked in many hiking guides, but it's not to be missed.

I first discovered this little alpine gem nestled in thick forest when my father died. After a week of funeral preparations and mourning, I was ready for a hike. However Michael, worried about my physical endurance after such an ordeal, limited our outing to no more than 5 miles round trip and as flat as possible. I stumbled across Barclay Lake on the forest service website and thought it fit the bill perfectly. And in more than one way it did.

My father was one of my greatest inspirations when it came to both my love of photography and my love of the outdoors. A hike to a little lake nestled amongst the trees at the base of towering monoliths of the proposed Wild Sky Wilderness Area gave me time to reflect on what all dad had left me with. I left there with a renewed sense of where I wanted to be in life and the desire to accomplish my goals.

As M.M. is one of my best friends, I wanted to share this special hike with her on this April Sunday afternoon. We meandered through the woods, over and past blow-downs from the previous winter's storms, stopping to examine a few wildflowers and admire the lush greenery around us. After crossing Barclay Creek, it's only a short climb to the lake shore, almost hidden in the thick greenery. Snow lingered here still, but we made our way to a little log that over looked the lake. The clouds were lying low on the mountains so we weren't able to gaze on immense Barclay Mountain. But that didn't matter to us - we quietly sat on our log, eating cheese and crackers admiring the view, the silence, and each other's company. It wasn't until a few raindrops splattered on our faces that we packed up and head back out to the trail head.

"Dry" Run

Mt St Helens 4/28/07 5 miles

In preparation for our climb in May, Michael and I decided to hike as far as we were allowed on Mt St Helens to get a feel of where we'd be heading in a few weeks - it would be our "dry" run. I emphasize dry because within a few yards of the trail head for the winter climbing route we ran into snow. Well, duh, this is the winter climbing route. Normally, people who want to climb to the crater of Mt St Helens head to the climber's bivouac and then the Monitor Ridge route. In the winter, climbers start at the Marble Mountain sno-park trail head and add another mile to their climb each way.

We were a bit apprehensive before climbing out of our car and heading up the trail after the climbers heading to the top. We appraised the climbers' gear - everything from daypacks to skis - and their fitness level - everything from Joe Average to Adonis. OK, we thought, this gives us no idea how other people are preparing for the climb. Sure we had the list from the Forest Service web-site but we wanted to see what people actually brought along with us. As a fall-back we decided to follow the recommended list from the Forest Service for our climb in two weeks. Better to be over-prepared than under, I always say.

We climbed to treeline about 2 1/2 miles in and found a nice perch to sit and have lunch as we watched the climbers make their way up the mountain. The climbing ranger had mentioned it before she skied off down the hill. I thought, skis would be nice to have - too bad I'm such a klutz on them as I watched her gently glide away.

We watched for some time, as the line of ant-like climbers made their way up the snow, the clouds drifting apart every now and then to expose the crater rim. Must have been a beautiful sight from the rim - I could imagine the crater below and stretching off north, the Cascades and Puget Sound and at the center of the scene rose Mt Rainier. I was still somewhat apprehensive, remembering my failed attempt several years ago. But the thought of seeing for myself that fabulous view made me want to try all the more.

Micheal was there to evaluate the trail and happily he came back with a healthy prognosis - we could do this. All we need to do is take our time, play it safe and we'd have one more accomplishment under our belts. Come back in a few weeks to find out how we did.

Springtime Wildflowers

Twin Falls 4/27/07 3 miles

Due to computer maintenance at work, I was able to take an early day on Friday. And what better way to spend a free Friday afternoon than to go on a short little hike? I had recommended Twin Falls near North Bend to a friend who was needing some alone time in the woods - it's an easier hike to a waterfall cascading through a black rock canyon. I however, invited another friend to go with me.

J.H. is from Georgia, she's been here for some time but seeing the northwest woods through her eyes made me appreciate my home all the more. For instance, did you know in Georgia the rivers are brown - not clear as they are here in the northwest? I was also pleased to point out some our woodland wildflowers: trillium, bleeding heart, scouler's corydallis, woodland violet, siberian miner's lettuce.

We ventured along the trail as it rambled next to the river, watching as the spring run-off bounced and tumbled over the rocks. The trail then head's up over a hill to an overlook looking across the canyon to the falls. We sat admiring the horsetail shaped falls before heading down the hill and up the other side to the bridge spanning the river.

We took our time along the trail - admiring all that nature had given us on this day - in true trail turtle mode. We weren't out for any speed records, we were out to enjoy each other's company, nature's brilliance, and a little time off from work.

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.

The Road Home

3/31/07-4/1/07

When I left Zion and headed north towards home, I was ready to leave. It had been a long week, full of adventure and beautiful sights. I thought I may make a detour or two, but ended up driving straight home - back the way I had come. North through Utah, Idaho, Oregon and Washington. In all I had driven over 3000 miles to see the southwest a glorious wonderland.

But the northwest beckoned and I needed to heed the call. I was going home with stories to tell and pictures to show. I hope you enjoyed the stories and images I have shared. And maybe, you might decide to travel there yourself.

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.

Springtime Snow

Rattlesnake Ridge 4/15/07 8 miles

Continuing on our conditioning for climbing Mt St Helens, Michael & I decided to traverse Rattlesnake Ridge near North Bend. This hike is 11 miles from start to finish - from the east end of the mountain to the west with a 2000 foot elevation gain. Not the conditioning hike Mt Si can be, but a good stamina booster. However, we didn't expect the late season snowfall that would contribute to our turning around.

Our plan was to start at the Rattlesnake Ledge trail head and continue to the other end at Snoqualmie Point. The last time we hiked the trail all the way through, the WTA had still been working on it. I was interested in seeing what they had done. We saw the dusting of snow atop Rattlesnake and the other mountains surrounding North Bend as we drove to the trail head. I thought this might make for an interesting hike.

Our initial climb to the ledge went smoothly, fog had settled in around the lake which gave the new green of the forest a soft quality. A few birds could be heard calling back to one another, possibly catching up on overnight happenings. The view that greeted us from the rocky ledge was partially obscured as the clouds drifted about the mountains - Mt Si and the other mountains across the valley played peek-a-boo with us.

We continued up the mountain. It wasn't too long before we reached the snow we had seen from the highway. Already the glimpses of sun had started melting what snow rested in the branches overhead. The resulting melt felt as if we were hiking in the rain - big heavy drops splashed on our packs, arms and hats. Every now and then a small frigid clump of wet soggy snow would let loose invariably hitting my neck or ear.

But that wasn't the worst of it. When we had hiked Mt Si the week before, there was no snow at the top. Mt Si is higher than Rattlesnake. We didn't envision the amount of snow we would run into on the trail. Approximately two feet of snow still lay in wide trail that once was a road. We were not prepared for this. On top of the snow on the ground, more snow had begun to fall around us. After a brief discussion, we decided not to chance it and turned around to head back to Rattlesnake Ledge and the lake below. Our day of happy springtime hiking cut short by snowfall.

Antelope Canyon

3/30/07

When you've been saturated with images of a special place and then finally make your own pilgrimage there one of two things can happen. Either you stand in awe that here you stand in this very special place, or it just won't stand up to you expectations. Happily I can say that I stood in awe of Antelope Canyon - at least the lower canyon impressed me, the upper one left a bit to be desired.

This day at least started out bright. Charly took us first to the lower canyon, however the steam from the coal plant on the hill above sufficiently blocked the sun from view. We meandered through the canyon admiring the twisted and curves, the striations and colors - hoping the steam would drift away and the sun would shine in on us. And finally our patience paid out, the sun streamed into the canyon reflecting off the walls and sand, to create that wonderful glowing effect I had so wanted to see in the previous slot canyons I had adventured in - that I had witnessed in Bryce.

Around mid-day, we made our way to the upper canyon and the circus that ensues there. Seems most people head to the upper canyon - this is were the iconic images of Antelope Canyon are taken. The undulating walls, the shafts of lights streaming from above, the open passages. But because of these images, people flock to this spot to huddle around each shaft of light as the tour guides throw dirt in the air to make the shaft of light stand out against the walls. There was yelling, screaming, pushing, and a bit of shoving. I somehow got mingled into the crowd and as the party ensued, I glanced around hoping his calm frame could pull me out of the madness. I finally broke free of the crowd and made my own way quietly following Charly through the canyon.

Later in the afternoon, we made out way back to the lower canyon for a few last minute shots. A tribal member, wandered through the canyon, playing his guitar - serenading the few photographers, exploring this less visited canyon. It seemed to add a special touch to the afternoon, the day, and my trip.

Canyon X

3/29/07

When the four of us tourists asked our guide, Jackson Bridges, why this canyon was named Canyon X. He replied that they were looking for a name on the way to the site. They came up with Canyon X because it was the mysterious canyon.

Few people go to Canyon X. Charly and Overland Canyon Tours, who have the rights to lead tours here, limit the number of people they take to this out of the way slot canyon to help keep its pristine appearance. And so it remains a bit mysterious.

But it is worth a mention, for the twists and turns within the canyon rival those I would later see in Antelope Canyons. If only we had a bright day to see the walls glow in all their wonder. And if you are hearty, then the trip might be worth it. The road is not an easy one, criss-crossed with washes every rain seems to take a little more earth and road with it. Nor is the hike into the canyon easy, a descent through an unimproved crevasse.

Even though the day turned chilly and I needed to take refuge in my new friends' RV to warm up, the trip was well worth it to me. Jackson is quite a knowledgeable fellow (check out his website http://www.jacksonbridges.com/) and the scenery inspiring.

Mt Si

4/7/07 8 miles

I have, for the past 10 or so years, avoided with all possible strength hiking Mt Si. I've gone up Little Si, Mt Teneriffe, Green Mtn and Rattlesnake Mtn. But to Mt Si, I gave a resounding NO. Why is that? Because everyone has done her. I referred to Si as the town ho - everyone has been on top of her so why should I? But in our quest to climb Mt St Helens in May, I made the ultimate sacrifice. I suggested climbing Mt Si.

Mt Si is used by climbers as an early season training hike. 4 miles of up followed by 4 miles of down can take it toll on you leg muscle and is considered prime hiking for conditioning your legs and lungs for larger more intensive climbs. It is not unheard of for climbers who have their hopes set on the summit of Mt Rainier or Denali in the summer, to be blasting up Mt Si in April. But there are also the casual hikers, those wanting a nice view at lunch and have heard Mt Si is a good place for that. And when I say casual hikers, I'm talking about the people who wake up in Seattle on a sunny Saturday and say, "Wow, what a beautiful day. Let's go on a hike." Which isn't to say that's a bad thing, a little spontaneous foray into the natural world is a wonderful thing for the body and soul. But what that creates is a superhighway of hikers. And if you are looking for a bit of solitude, Mt Si and it's superhighway is not where you want to be.

After my solo road trip to the southwest, this superhighway quickly became a irritant. I started grumbling almost immediately about how many people passed us, both going up and coming down. "See?" I would say. "This is why I hate this hike." At one point I even mentioned being afraid of catching some sort of hiking venereal disease. But who was I kidding? I already have the worst kind of hiking venereal disease out there (and whole hardily plan to infect as many people as possible) - Wilderness Obsessionitis. Yep, I am not happy unless I get to pee behind a tree then crawl into my sleeping bag with just the wild critters for neighbors.

In the end, I enjoyed my lunch with a view, worked my calf muscles into a knot, and felt a little more confident to climb Mt St Helens later. I won't search out Mt Si for much more enjoyment than that, but training - she serves her purpose. All I needed to do was get off my pretentious high horse and admit that once in a while something that the rest of the huddled masses enjoys can't be all that bad.

Page, Arizona

3/28/07

Page, AZ. I finally arrived. This town marked my halfway point in my time frame and it seemed to make all the difference. I no longer sorely missed Michael and my friends, although the ability to talk to Micheal gave me a bit of relief. I was able to settle for a couple of days, for my plans were to stay in Page 2 nights and explore the slot canyons with my hired guide - Charly of Overland Canyon Tours. If you are ever in Page and want to go on an adventure give Charly a call. He is a fabulous guide. Born in Weisbaden, Germany and came to Page by way of LA, he is a man at ease with the desert. Quiet, but has an easy laugh. The ordinary doesn't seem to be ordinary to him. He spent several minutes watch a caterpillar inch its way across the canyon floor as I took picture after picture of the canyon walls. I will be hiring him again and would recommend him to any who ask.

Charly met me at my campsite to go over our schedule for our tours and let me know I would have company. Perfect, a little company would be nice to have: Greg, from L.A. and Bonnie & Roy from Idaho on day 1 and then just Bonnie and Roy on day 2. Came to find out that Bonnie & Roy were camped in their RV right behind my tent - their nice warm cozy RV. Which came in very handy on Friday when the temperature dropped, as did the rain - the wind however picked up.

After our first trip to the canyons (described in a later post), Bonnie and Roy invited me in to their RV to warm up. The canyons had gotten very cold as we photographed their curves and twists. By lunch my hands were freezing and a slight shiver had set in - and I was wearing layers and fleece. I have to thank Bonnie and Roy for the comfort of their RV, a little hot chocolate, and the use of their microwave.

The campground had a permanent resident - a little black cat. My first night camp kittie stopped by my tent to welcome me to the neighborhood. The second night camp kittie decided that both he & I needed to share our warmth and he joined me in my tent for the evening. Really, I don't blame him. I awoke the next morning with my rain-fly encrusted in ice. The rain the previous day and the freezing overnight temperatures had turned my tent into a giant snow cone. Camp kittie was not interested in heading out of the tent, but I had to shove him out anyway. He didn't hold a grudge, for he came back at lunch to help us eat our sandwiches.

Page was a nice rest on the trip, with beautiful scenery both from above and below. And knowing a great guide is there makes future planning all the easier.

For Charly's website at Overland Canyon Tours go to www.overlandcanyontours.com

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.

Highway 12

3/26/07-3/27/07

While planning my trip, several friends mentioned they loved the drive along Highway 12 through Boulder and Escalante. It is said to be an extremely scenic roadway. I would agree with them.

I left Capitol Reef early in the afternoon to head toward Boulder Mountain, a long snow-covered ridge line that enticed me from the plateau in the park. With several overlooks, I was able to get a somewhat birds-eye view of the sagebrush covered land below with the cliffs looking so much smaller and less spectacular than when I sat below them gazing up. Along the way, I noticed several signs depicting trail heads that I knew I'd have to come back and visit to hike and explore. So many trails, so little time. Already I was frustrated with my inability to stay longer - I would have to designate base camps the couple of trips so I could explore these areas more deeply.

After passing through the town of Boulder with a quick stop at the Anasazi State Park to view the pueblo ruins there, the road took me along a ridge line so sharp I immediately slowed down in fear of propelling myself off the side. It would have been a long way down. After a night at Lower Calf Creek Falls that I intend making a separate entry for, I continued along to the Kiva Koffeehouse, which luckily had opened earlier than normal. I needed to recharge my batteries (both internal and electrical) and an hour sitting on their deck, sipping iced tea, watching the ravens drift on the air currents, and listening to the breeze in the trees replenished my energy.

My joy with wide open spaces soon came jumping through my heart. Before me lay slickrock formations from long ago hardened sand dunes. Would I be able to stay here forever? There were more places for me to go and see and started out this day feeling ill. I wanted to make camp and sleep as long a s possible. So I left this treeless wonderland and continued on. Tonight I would be in Bryce.

From mountains and valleys to slickrock and prairie, Highway 12 became a journey I look forward to retaking.

Capitol Reef

3/24/07 - 3/25/07

Capitol Reef National Park hadn't been on my original plans for my road trip. I was expecting to get all the way to Boulder, UT and go hiking out of there before moving southward. But, a friend had asked me if I'd be heading there and to check out the Diablo Cafe in Torrey if I did. As I was looking at the map after crossing into Utah, I noticed how close Capitol Reef was to my original destination and decided to swing on through and check it out. After all, this was an exploratory trip.

I saw Capitol Reef before I knew it was there. The red toned cliffs glowing in the afternoon sun rose above the prairie floor, a creation of nature's monumental brilliance, set off by the grey clouds overhead. I eagerly drove closer, becoming more excited as the cliffs grew larger against the sky. This was exactly the scenery I was hoping to see. I have lived most of my life on the wet side of the mountains where you can't see the trees for the forest. As a child, I looked forward to the vacations that took us to the sparse pine forests east of the cascades - to open spaces and views through the trees. To be able to see these cliffs long before I reached them was a perfect vision.

I found camping in the park, a little relieved as I hadn't made any camping plans prior to my arrival. In fact about half of the open spaces were still open - their season had yet to start. So there I set up my tent at the base of sandstone cliffs, under the cottonwood trees surrounded by deer poop - at least I would know what footsteps awakened me in the night. I was able to settle in for a contented night's sleep in a wondrous land.

Morning came as a bit of a surprise; it is rather amazing how well I sleep without Michael snoring in my ear. I could have stayed in my warm sleeping bags (yes, that is a plural and I'm happy for them) but it was the sunrise I was after, so quickly dressed to drive up the scenic road behind Fruita. The sun comes up over the waterpocket fold from the "wrong" direction, however I stood atop the plateau and watched the sun warm the cliffs as it progressed above the formations to the east. As I stood there photographing the beautiful site before me, I realized that nothing stirred - not a breeze, nor a bird. It was silent, a perfect silence that I couldn't break. it enwrapped me in it's embrace - a comforting silence holding my unease at bay. Here I didn't feel alone in a desert but welcome and surrounded by friends.

Then a bird sang and another answered - the spell had been broken. I drove back to Fruita and the visitor's center to explore the old buildings and orchards. A few of the fruit trees had already started to bloom, their pink and white blossoms set like glittering gems against the red cliffs. Here I saw a critter I hadn't seen before, familiar but not at the same time. Upon asking the ranger later I was told it was a yellow-bellied marmot. That made sense - as it did look a little similar to our hoary marmots here in the cascades. My encounter with the marmot was soon followed by the largest herd of mule deer I had ever encountered, grazing around the old schoolhouse. They paid me little mind as I photographed them and the school. I had no idea they traveled in such large herds - almost like elk in a way.

The hike I decided to take - Hickman Bridge - will have to be detailed later.

The Diablo Cafe, however, was closed for the season.

Bruneau Sand Dunes

3/24/07

I had traveled I-84 several times while living in the Rockies and visited home, but I had missed the sign on the highway in Idaho pointing the way to the Bruneau Sand Dunes State Park. Sand dunes in Idaho? Cool! I had to take the side trip to see them. Living in Denver, I had taken a weekend trip to the the sand dunes at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains before the area became a national park. I knew these wouldn't be quite the same, but I was on vacation to see sights.

Driving the country road through Mountain Home, ID, I came across an odd form sitting atop a fence post. I didn't pay too much attention to it as I'm familiar with farmers who decorate their fences with odd sorts of memorabelia. I soon realized that is was tras on the fence but a golden eagle getting a sparrow's eye view of the field below. Descending to the Snake River valley, I pulled into the state park and found the dunes overlooking the prairie.

A series of sand dunes, the tallest reaching 470 feet above the prairie, greeted me as I parked the car. A pair of jackrabbits hopped through the sagebrush, uncertain if I were predator or friend. Early moring sunlight bounced off the dunes and cast interesting shadows in the curves of wind-shaped sand. Of course I had to walk p on of the dunes and slipped off my shoes as I approached the closest. Brrrr! It had been cold the night before and the sun had yet to warm up the sand. I didn't mind though, sand through my toes (even cold sand) brought back childhood trips to the beach with my sister, playing "chicken" with the waves, laughing as we ran up the beach away from them. I felt that giddy urge to just run to the top of the sand dune and slide down the other side. I did refrain from sliding down - no need to ruin such a melodius shape created by the wind.

The ducks in the marshes below squacked and flapped their wings, preparing for ther morning bath, I supposed. Birds twitered and a breeze ruffled the sagebrush, other than that, I was alone on my dune, drawing shapes in the sand with my big toe, watching the light change the shapes and directions of the shadows. I don't know how long I played in the sand, the sun was still lower to the horizon than not when I drifted back to my car. The jackrabbits had already taken refuge for the day. I made a quick stop in the visitor's center and read more about the nature and history of the area and thought June would be a nice time to return - when the flowers colored the prairie. But for now, I had other places to see.

Roadtrip: Spring 2007

March 23-April 1

There I stood on the overpass leading the commuters from the train to their cars. I watched as the Sounder disappeared down the tracks, thinking about doing the same. I was lost in the idea of traveling on, away from the city and my daily grind. Where would the train take me? Where could it take me? I shook myself from my thoughts to follow the rest of the commuters fighting their ways to their cars.

That was in October. From there, I told Michael I needed a vacation - to somewhere - in the Spring. March would be nice. Somewhere I had never been before. Sadly, after changing jobs, he didn't have the vacation time so wouldn't be able to join me. However, he encouraged me to go on my own, explore the world and have a wonderful adventure. But where to go?

Should I take the train to Montana as a friend suggested? I could play in the snow-covered hills outside of Glacier National Park. But then I really got to thinking. If I head somewhere in March, I would want to head south - to warmer climates. Get some sun, warm up the bones. South was where I turned. After reading and article on Glen Canyon and the Grand Staircase-Escalante area, my mind was made up. I would tour Southern Utah & Northern Arizona for a week near the end of March, a place I had never before ventured into.

In the following days, I will tell you all about my adventures in the prairies, canyons, and plateuas of Utah and Arizona. I saw Golden Eagles larger than life, more Mule Deer than I could count, and a Bobcat running across the road. I made new friends (including a black kitty who kept me warm on one very cold night). I hiked into canyons of all shapes and sizes, over slick rock and through arches and drove over 3000 miles round trip.

So come back for further installments of the fun and fascinating RoadTrip: Spring 2007.