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.