Playing the Slots

On Friday, we headed out with our friends, Brett and Paula, to do a loop hike through a pair of narrow, “slot” canyons. 

The route to the trailhead took us down the Hole in the Rock Road, which follows the 1879 route of a band of Mormon settlers sent to establish a settlement in what is now southeastern Utah.  While it was just a pleasant wagon track for the settlers, we were treated to a graded roadway with washboards as high as the average speed bump but far closer together. 

At the trailhead, cars displaying license plates from across the country filled the parking lot.  We would not be alone playing in the slots.

Our goal was to hike up Peek-a-Boo Gulch, cross overland to the head of Spooky Gulch and descend back through it.

A sign warned us about the narrowness of Spooky. 

We tested it out.  While Dianne’s body fit through, we were worried about her hat.

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The two slot canyons feed into the Dry Fork of Coyote Gulch.  Our first obstacle involved sidestepping down the slickrock to get to it.

Fortunately, the route was well marked with cairns.

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Entering the mouth of Peek-a-Boo Gulch requires ascending a steep chute of slick slickrock.  A pile of rocks at the bottom helps one get a foot onto the lower Moki step someone had chiseled long ago into the rock.  We watched as another hiker struggled up.

When we found out that from there, we would need to wade through knee-deep, canyon-bottom potholes of icy water, we decided to skip Peek-a-Boo and go directly to Spooky, which we would hike from the bottom up.  Along the way, we passed a sandy bench covered with evening primrose blossoms.

We reached the mouth of Spooky and began heading up.

It wasn’t too bad at first…

…but that changed in a hurry.

It soon got worse…

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…and worse.

The hike wouldn’t have been bad if all the traffic traveled in the same direction, but that wasn’t the case.  While we were hiking up, others were coming down, and passing each other in a slot canyon narrower than potholes in a Colorado highway was a pain.  One by one our group turned around, exited Spooky and hiked back to the car.

On the drive back to the campground, we detoured off the washboard road to track down some dinosaur trackways located up on a sandstone bench…

…followed by a stop at some photogenic rock formations in a place known as the Devil’s Garden.

“Why is it always named after the Devil?” Dianne pondered.

“Why not name it the Angel’s Garden?”

Back in town, we tried to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with a nice Mexican dinner.  Let’s just say that while Escalante may be named for an 18th century Spanish priest, it does not abound in indoor Mexican eateries.

A Day of Sun and Solitude

Saturday was a day of issues. Dianne is having knee issues, I’m having hip issues and the trailer is having battery depletion issues. A day of rest along with some little blue pills should help mitigate the knee and hip pains.

As for the trailer, a day spent moving our trio of 100-watt solar panels around as the sun slides through the sky should help alleviate the battery depletion issue. A touch of generator assistance may help, too.

Kodachrome in Color

On Monday, we made the 40-mile drive to Kodachrome State Park, which noted experts (us) have declared to be the most beautiful state park campground in Utah.  Our site was in a nicely private, large pull-through site near the cliffs…

…with an excellent view of the park’s signature rock formation.

It’s not what you think it is.  This is a sedimentary pipe, one of around 67 in the park, that formed when pockets of water-saturated sediments became cemented together.  When the softer surrounding rock eroded away, the tougher caprock remained, forming vertical columns.

Narrow Misses and More

On Tuesday, we set off to do the narrows of Round Valley Draw.  Getting in requires descending a pair of vertical drop-offs using rock climbing techniques.  Our friend Brett, an accomplished rock climber, had no trouble chimneying down the first drop. 

He had a short length of rope with him and offered to belay the rest of us down.  The only problem would be if we got blocked in the canyon and had to actually come back up this way.  My policy is to never get myself into a situation that I can’t get out of. 

When we were down at Devil’s Garden a few days ago, an elderly woman hiked across one of the natural arches. 

Across the span, the woman got on top of a small dome and froze, totally afraid to go back.  She ultimately had to be rescued by an accomplished rock climber. 

I didn’t want to be stuck down in a narrow canyon and have to be rescued.  When the option to hike around to the canyon’s exit and hike up the narrows, I was all for it.

We followed a trail up on a bench hoping this was the Round Valley Draw exit route.  Along the way, we passed beautiful scenery…

…and spring flowers…

…but we never did find the right trail.  We turned back and headed for another set of canyon narrows to explore.  Our replacement objective was the Cottonwood Canyon Narrows, which offered a no-brainer trail to enter and exit.

The narrows are only about a mile or so long…

The walking was easy and the walls picturesque…

…and we were even treated to some wildflowers in the more open sections of the canyon.

Best of all, unlike that elderly lady stuck on the natural arch, we needed no assistance to get out of this canyon.

Sloshing up Hackberry

So far, all of our canyons we’ve hiked have been dry.  Hackberry is not.  For this hike, we needed to don our water shoes.  (Try to not notice the knee scars in this image.  Of the six legs pictured, four have medically implanted, bionic knees.)

The lower end of the canyon offered towering sandstone walls hemmed with cottonwood trees…

…with the occasional rock spire to admire…

…and only a few minor obstacles to negotiate.

Our goal was to make it to Frank Watson’s old cabin about a four mile hike from the trailhead.

The hike out with the afternoon light painting the desert varnished walls proved to be just as mesmerizing as they were on the hike in.

Reaching canyon’s end, all that remained was a 25-mile drive down a somewhat graded road to get back to camp and waiting brews.

Revisiting an Old Friend

The first time I ever visited Utah’s canyon country was in the early ‘70s.  A hiking group to which I belonged offered a backpack trip into Escalante River country near Escalante.  To get to the trailhead meeting place, I took a shortcut up a 40-mile dirt road through Cottonwood Canyon.

For our last day at Kodachrome, while Dianne would go do a canyon hike with our friends, I would solo drive the Cottonwood Road to its terminus at U.S. 89 and back again.

Departing at the crack of noon, I decided to drive straight through and save my photo taking for the late afternoon return.  I wanted to make sure I had time to make the detour to the abandoned Pahreah townsite and the nearby old movie set where films ranging from “Desperados” (1943) to “The Outlaw Josey Wales” (1976) were filmed.  The two lay off another road a few miles up U.S. 89.

Back in the ‘70s, some old buildings still remained here.  On this trip, the best I could find was an old rock wall and an cemetery filled with a number of identical, unmarked headstones.  If there is anything more remaining, I didn’t see it.

I returned to the Cottonwood Road, keeping the camera handy.  Here are a few shots of scenery along the drive:

Heading Home

On Friday morning, we packed up the trailer, said goodbye to our friends and drove back toward civilization.  Our final night in Utah would be spent at Fremont Indian State Park near Richfield.  It offers full hookup sites in an intimate location.

Our 2023 Utah Spring Fling began with a drive to see some ancient Fremont rock art.  As a fitting finale, a few small panels of Fremont Indian petroglyphs decorate the rock behind our campsite.

To our Chicago friends who had never been to Utah before, I promise that next time, we’ll show you pictures of the pretty part of Utah.

Heading for the Coast

We’re off on a 42-night tour of the Left Coast.  Our first night’s stay was at the KOA near Brigham City, Utah where we reserved a basic site.  Temperatures were nearing triple digits and the site we were given was a gravel pad with nary a lick of shade to be found. The young man directing us to the site looked at Adelle, our plastic Adélie penguin, and asked if we’d be interested in upgrading to a patio site with shade.

“How much more?” I asked.  He said it would be a whopping $4 additional. 

“We’ll take it!” my lovely heat-hating wife responded. I warned her that the additional charge was coming out of her allowance.

It turned out to be one of the nicest KOAs we’ve ever stayed in. Next time we’ll reserve a patio site to begin with.

The next day, we headed north to Lake Walcott State Park near Rupert, Idaho.  We have a back-in site here bordered by well-watered grass.  The sprinklers were watering the site as we arrived, making setting up initially a damp endeavor.

After getting everything set up, we did a three-mile walk around the park.  What a beautiful place with damn few people staying here. 

Ah, the joys of camping after Labor Day when the kids are in school and not playing on the playground leaving room for adults wanting to relive childhood!

Tomorrow, if I can tear Dianne away from the playground, we’ll tackle a long hike around the north side of the reservoir. It’s time to get some exercise.

Lakeview Trail

After two days of driving from the vineyards of Colorado’s Grand Valley to the French fry farms of Idaho, Dianne and I both thought it was time to lace up the hiking boots, pack the 10 essentials and set off on a long, scenic trail.

We didn’t do that.

Instead, we laced up our tennie-runners, loaded nothing more than cameras plus water in our packs and set off on the Lakeview Trail, which borders Lake Walcott for a mile or so.  It might be considered scenic to those who love tall golden grasses with an occasional view of coves in the reservoir. At least we had nice park benches to rest on.

Flush toilet restrooms at the park are not working because of some sewer pump issue.  Instead, the park has scattered a number of porta potties around.  It appears they were last emptied during the Obama administration.  At least by providing housing for numerous spiders, the quantity of flying insects inside the porta potties was minimal.

Spiders of the cob species were a problem on the trail where they built their webs across the walking path.  We were constantly pulling cobwebs off our arms as we headed up the trail.  Dianne finally picked up a stick and waiving it like a maestro’s baton at a symphony, she beat down the cobwebs along the trail.

A mile down the trail, we reached an old gravel two-track road, which we followed until nearly the crack of noon. 

Then it was back to camp where we were greeted by sprinklers, which were once again watering our campsite.  My Garmin says we hiked just under nine miles, with me burning over a thousand calories. That can only mean one thing.

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Another State Decal

We awoke Friday morning to a brilliant, Ferrari-red sun reflecting across the waters of Lake Walcott.  We were engulfed in forest fire smoke, supposedly from a blaze 20 miles upwind.  That apparently was not the only wildfire in the area.  We had smoke obscuring the views on our drive all the way to Boise.

We planned a stopover in the Idaho capital so we could visit one of Dianne’s favorite nieces.  When we stayed in the area before, we booked a site at an upscale RV “Resort” in neighboring Caldwell.  Since we are now platinum-level, elite, first-class, gold-encrusted members of KOA, we elected to stay at the Boise-Meridian KOA where we get a 10% discount.  It’s a nice enough RV park for those who don’t mind being packed in like sardines camping in can.  Our neighbor’s picnic table was maybe two feet from our sewer hose and ours about two feet from the next guy’s.

Since niece Laura had to work until 6:00 p.m. in the evening, we had time to do a bit of shopping for treasures we can’t get back home.  That meant a trip to Trader Joe’s so we could pick up Dianne’s favorite boxed wine.  Apparently, there are two TJs in the Boise area, but our truck navigation only knew of one.  We endured a traffic-clogged drive downtown where we had to squeeze our 19-foot-long Titan into a Miata-size spot in TJ’s parking lot.

Back at the sardine camp, we had a nice evening visit with Laura and her offspring.  This morning, we drained our trailer sewer tanks, filled up the fresh-water tank and hit the smoke-blanketed freeway for a drive across eastern Oregon.  Our next campsite would be just across the Columbia River in Washington state.

We have a map on the back of the trailer showing states in which we’ve camped with either this trailer or its predecessor.  While we’ve truck or tent camped in Washington and Oregon many times before, we’ve never dragged a trailer up there until now.  The Washington decal went on minutes after arrival.

We’re staying in a beautifully kept, Corps of Engineers campground along the Columbia River.  We have electric and sewer here, but currently there’s a boil notice for the water. That’s why we brought our own.

Unfortunately, there’s a wall of veggies blocking views of the Columbia River from the campground.  We put on our tennie-runners and set out to see if we could find a break in the greenery that would allow a glimpse of the stream.

We only found a few passages to fishing spots along the edge of the campground. Views were choked.

Hoping for more, we continued down an old roadway that cut through the snake-infested brush.  We found nary a single buzz worm along the way.

We did, however, find spiders.

When the webs got too thick, we cut over to the paved roadway that led to a parking area used by anglers. 

A pair of fishermen there told us that if we continued through a culvert under the freeway, we’d soon reach a tunnel.  On the other side of the tunnel, we’d have a great view of the McNary Dam on the Columbia River.

We followed their suggestion and were treated to a view of the nearly 1½-mile long structure spanning the river.  The trail continued and so did we, stopping only when we reached a NO TRESSPASSING, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY sign.

We checked our GPS watches when we got back to the trailer.  What was going to be a little stroll along the edge of the campground turned out to be a five-mile walk. 

Of course, I celebrated with yet another brew from the fridge.