More than 30 years ago, my friend Howard and I thrashed our way to the top of Granite Peak in the Mineral Mountains. The Minerals are just west of Beaver and east of Milford; they have striking granite crags and domes that attract rock climbers. The bad news is that they have few trails and the bushwhacking can be miserable. My memory of the bushwhacking from the first trip has dimmed, so I felt that it was time to brave it again.

I should point out that on that first trip, Howard and I spent several hours to go about 2 mi round trip. We faced grabby mountain-mahogany trees and scrub oaks, huge granite fins and domes that required elaborate circumventions, granite boulders in awkward places, loose dirt and slippery vegetation, plus tons of downhill-pointing deadfall. When we reached the summit ridge, we couldn't tell whether we were north or south of the summit, and we were ready to bag it. I went off into the bushes to the north to take a leak, and I discovered that the summit was just on the other side of the bushes. The summit register was a aluminum film can containing a label from a can of pineapple, on the back of which were the records of (I think) 4 groups spread over (I think) 12 years.

When I first scheduled the new trip for Memorial Day, I found multiple descriptions of alleged trails. With trails, we could be up and down in (say) 6 hours! Later on when I was researching the trip in detail, I realized that these trails were imaginary. Yes, there are a handful of new use trails lower down, created by climbers who tackle the Milford Needle and other crags, but no trails go to the top. Ouch.

On Friday, Keith, Roman and I scouted the climber trails near the Rock Corral picnic area. We found a route that would take us behind the first rank of cliffs, and I decided that it would do for Saturday's hike.

I didn't have a lot of confidence that we'd be able to make it to the top of Granite Peak, but I figured it was worth a try, if only to demonstrate to everyone just how obnoxious the brush is.

Somewhat to my surprise, the group didn't immediately surrender when we got our first taste of the terrain. We squeezed through the oak brush, scrambled over boulders, broke off lots of dead mahogany branches and managed to make headway, with lots of advances and retreats.

Eventually we came to a spot where it looked like we would have to lose a lot of elevation and thrash through some really dense mahogany. There was a chute just above us that cut between two crags, and although it was very steep, it looked more attractive than the brush bashing below.

The chute was steep, narrow and fairly brushy. It was also full of loose duff and slippery sand and gravel. We kept going in spite of this, and eventually we came out to a fine view of the peak above us. Alas, this view also revealed a big cliff below us, and three more big crags between our position and the correct route. We declared victory and bashed our way back to the Rock Corral parking lot.

It took us about 4 hours to go maybe 1 mile round trip, with 1000 ft of elevation gain. My kingdom for a trail!

go to the Granite Peak photo gallery

Some of us still had a little energy, so I organized a visit to Granite Peak Reservoir. In spite of the name, this pond is not actually very close to Granite Peak; it's hidden near Soldier Pass to the south.

The route takes a couple of switchbacks up to the top of a granite outcrop, then descends somewhat steeply to a line of crags. Some clever person built a dam between a couple of crags to provide water for cattle. The location is very photogenic, not just for the water and the crags, which are very fine, but also for the profusion of spring flowers. We saw balsamroot, lupine, phlox, woodland star, daisies, paintbrush and violets — not bad!

go to the Granite Peak Reservoir photo gallery

On Sunday, we went up into Ranch Canyon, north of Granite Peak. Keith, Roman and I had scouted the road on Friday, and it turned out to be drivable to the parking area below South Twin Flat Mountain, with several minor fords. Some kind person had cleared the deadfall from the road and filled in the washouts from the spring runoff.

I figured that we'd have a great view of Granite Peak and the Milford Needle from the undrivable jeep track that climbs South Twin, and I was right. It was just amazingly gorgeous, with scads of flowers and bright green aspens. The track heads steeply up through mahogany to the flat top of the South Twin volcano. The footing is pretty bad, with lots of loose rocks and deep ruts. I guess the good part is that there are actual switchbacks, and the views are stunning.

After taking a snack break at the top of South Twin, we went down the track to a spur road to a location called the Park. The views in this nook were wonderful. You could believe that you were in a much higher and wetter mountain range, with the scrub oak and white firs filling the couloirs in the granite. The Milford Needle loomed to the south and the mighty wedge of Peak 8473 dominated the view to the west. We speculated about how we might be able to conquer Granite Peak from the northwest; maybe I'll return in the fall and give it a shot.

go to the South Twin Flat Mountain photo gallery

I had long wanted to visit the Wildhorse Canyon obsidian mine in the north part of the Mineral Mountains. After descending Ranch Canyon, we headed up a well-graded road. The spur to Wildhorse was in much less wonderful shape, and Simon decided that he didn't want to risk his vehicle on the pointy boulders and stumps that littered the track. I decided to brave it, and Katherine and Rick and I got a chance to wander through the huge pile of volcanic glass at the end of the track. Obsidian tools from this location have been found in many areas of the West, and it really is pretty stuff. I sucked it up and went home without any glass in my pocket, but it was damn tough.

go to the Wildhorse Canyon obsidian mine photo gallery

Most people left on Monday morning. Rick and Roman and I went for a jaunt in the canyon behind our campsite. Even in the foothills of the Minerals, the crags and pinnacles are still formidably attractive.

go to the Rock Corral photo gallery

Since it was still well before noon, I offered to take Rick, Sheila and Roman over to Pahvant Butte, in the desert east of SR 257 and south of the village of Deseret.

There are really two locations to visit — the rugged summit of the cinder cone, and the weird rock formations on the north called the Lace Curtain. I'd read about the Lace Curtain in a geology book and I'd visited it in 2017. It's quite out-of-the-way; imagine my surprise to discover that the BLM or the county has put in plaques and signage to direct you there. They've also graded an impressive new gravel road almost all of the way to Pahvant Butte. I say “almost” because just before reaching Pahvant Butte, the new road gives way abruptly to the old crappy, bumpy track that was there back in 2017. I'm not sure whether they ran into problems with money or with permitting; it was very surprising.

The Lace Curtain is still odd and unique. The cliff swallows love it; the new plaques mention that golden eagles nest higher up in the holes.

go to the Lace Curtain photo gallery

For my first camping trip of 2023, I decided to go back to the section of the San Rafael Reef north of the San Rafael River. On a previous trip, I had hiked up the slanted slab that forms the north wall of Archtower Canyon, and had visited Cottonwood Canyon. On this trip, I was thinking that it would be fun to do Archtower Canyon itself and see the arch, which is invisible from above.

On Friday, the group met at a campsite in Tidwell Draw just north of the Smith Cabin. Our trip happened to coincide with a convention of the Rocky Mountain Mule Association. The first indication was a sign for the RMMA on the road to the cabin. Paula stopped and gave a ride to one mule rider who was waiting for his companion and his mule to show up. There were several horse trailers with mules and horses taking up the campsites in the immediate vicinity of the cabin. We drove a few hundred yards north on the Tidwell Draw road and camped next to a little stream flowing from a spring further up, within view of the RMMA sites.

One mule was especially picturesque on the skyline from our camp. Also photogenic was a fingernail crescent moon with earthshine, accompanied by Venus, setting over the San Rafael Reef. We were serenaded by frogs all night, procreating in the stream next to us.

go to the Tidwell Draw photo gallery

The Archtower loop hike was a bit harder than I had expected given the description in the Steve Allen guidebook, but our group was up to the effort.

We drove south on a fairly bad section of the Tidwell Draw road and parked at a camping pull-out before the road reached the sandy bottom of the draw. The weather was windy and chilly, with alternating sun and clouds. We hiked south, taking note of the return route via Archtower Canyon, and turned west up Sheep Cave Canyon.

The potholes in the lower section of Sheep Cave Canyon were very cool, and full of water from our wet spring this year. Soon after passing the Sheep Cave (a deep alcove high on the north wall of the canyon), we hit our first significant obstacle. We were able to work around the first drop in a multi-level pour-off by traversing up the north slope, but the only way to pass the top level pour-off is to climb it. The pour-off isn't very high (maybe 5 feet?) but the handholds are terrible and the lip is undercut, with no good footholds either. The best way to attack it was to mantle up the crack on the left, get a boot up on the right lip (braced by the next climber), then get a knee down and crawl. Kevin, the tallest member of the group, was willing to go last so that everyone else could get a boost.

It took us a minute to figure out that we needed to drop into the canyon to the left — it was not super obvious that we'd just climbed up the right side of a double pour-off. Once we were on the right track, it was a pretty stroll over occasional rockfall and some very fun tilted slickrock floors. There's a spot where it looks like you might want to go up and left to follow the canyon, but the canyon actually digs a trench and curves sharply right.

It seemed to take a long time to get to Ednah Natural Bridge, but it was pleasant going, and the bridge really is a nice spot to stop. The bridge is strikingly flat, like a road bridge; at least a couple folks walked across it. The shade was welcome, until the clouds got thicker and began spitting raindrops.

The threatening weather never got any worse, fortunately. We traipsed over hill and dale to a low spot on the rim above the San Rafael River. The view is just as staggering as I remembered it from my previous visit. For some reason, I always think that Mexican Mountain is smaller than it really is, but the view from the saddle showed its actual bulk. The river was a tiny thread of gray-green far below. I tried to make out landmarks along the Black Box, but I didn't find any that I recognized.

After this break, it was more hill and dale across the tilted plateau to reach Archtower Canyon. Because the north wall of the canyon is so big, it was hard for me to appreciate the size of the Archtower until we were underneath it. The immense arch revealed itself slowly; the best view is from a little ways downstream.

The next section of canyon had several rockfalls. These were pretty slow to navigate, with many twists and turns through car-size boulders. Eventually the going became a bit smoother, and the canyon grew narrower, until...

The canyon made a sudden 10-foot drop into a deep, wall-to-wall pothole, shaded by a bus-sized boulder wedged just above it. Stupidly, I failed to take a picture! I'll have to use someone else's photo for the WMC Rambler write-up. Kevin explored the south rim and Paula and Stanley scrambled up on the north rim. The situation didn't look good — I was getting worried that we were going to have to swim the frigid pothole. Stanley was getting ready to come back down, but at the last moment he decided to go higher and see whether it might work out. Amazingly, he spotted a steep class 3 route down from the ledge to the canyon bottom below the pothole. We gathered the group and followed. The rock was a bit rotten and sandy, but everyone made it down without complaint. I was rather surprised that this obstacle didn't rate a mention in the trip description in Allen's book; maybe the pothole was dry when Allen went through?

Soon we emerged at the northern Reef's fault zone and found a charming series of potholes running down a tilted slab. The last pothole was pretty big, and we worked around it on the south side. After crossing the fault, the canyon goes over an enormous vertical pour-off. The guidebook description said that you could descend a class-4 drop to the right of center, or go up and over to the left. I decided to scout the route to the left and ended up climbing a steep class-3 chute that left me stranded on a promontory above the pour-off. By the time that I got there, the others had descended the pour-off — it turns out that there's a shelf that runs under the right side of the pour-off, and dropping down to it isn't actually that hard. Happily, it all ended well.

That evening, the wind at the campsite made it difficult to start and run stoves. We moved vehicles and tables around so that we could cook in a wind break. It was amusing to me to see all of the camp chairs lined up in the lee of my 4Runner and Rick's big van.

go to the Archtower photo gallery

It took us 7 and a half hours on Saturday to do the ~8-mile Archtower loop. I reconsidered my original plan to visit Grotto Canyon; our pace would have made that loop as long as Saturday's loop, or longer.

Instead we walked over to the Smith Cabin and hiked up south fork of the draw that goes up from the cabin. This route was very pretty and it had some fun routefinding challenges. At the fault zone, the draw was very park-like, with hoodoos and towers surrounding a basin with grass and junipers. We went north and west into a random canyon and had lunch among the domes.

When we got back to the bottom (following a mule trail down the south side of the canyon), we ran into a couple who were just getting ready to load their mules into their trailer and head out. It turns out that the wife was a descendant of the Smith family that built the cabin and owned the grazing allotment. Although the spring stopped flowing in the 1940s and the buildings have mostly collapsed, these folks still come out regularly from Green River to visit the property, and this year they had hosted the RMMA. It was fun to meet them.

go to the Smith Cabin Canyon photo gallery

I had scheduled a WMC trip to Notch Peak for October 22nd, but the weather gods intervened. After two weeks of gorgeous, mild, sunny days, the 22nd was ferociously windy and wet.

Cassie asked whether I would reschedule the trip for the following Saturday. I asked the wmc-hike mailing list about the idea, to gauge the interest. Somewhat to my surprise, I got several responses. We met at 6:30 AM at the Bluffdale Park-and-Ride and took off.

I was a bit concerned about the potential for snow after the previous week's storms. There were a few inches of snow in the shaded parts of Sawtooth Canyon, and otherwise there wasn't much snow at all on the route. The bad news was that there was snow on the scrambly sections in the upper narrows, which made them pretty slippery and awkward.

Several folks on the hike had never seen the Notch before from the top. It's always fun to see Notch novices agog over the amazing view. Cassie camped out at the Notch overlook while the rest of us struggled up the last 400 ft to the summit. The view as as awesome as ever. Da couldn't stop taking pictures; Hong crawled out to the edge to get the view straight down to the Notch. Bruce and Lily had big cameras, and Lily also had a small camera which she attached to a selfie stick and extended over the abyss. I expect lots of great photos!

go to the Notch Peak photo gallery

I have been to the eastern end of (what is now) Grand Staircase / Escalante National Monument many times, but I had never done any hikes in the western end, the Paria-Hackberry basin. I scheduled a trip there for Memorial Day in 2020, but guess what happened.

I decided to put the trip on the schedule for 2022. The backcountry group size limit is 12 (per the original GSENM resource management plan, which is being restored after the Trump administration whacked it); I put a limit of limit of 11 on the number of participants. Naturally, the trip was immediately oversubscribed...

As the date approached and the number of queries increased, I realized that we could split into two groups for hikes and accommodate up to twice as many people. As it turns out, that was unnecessary; by that point, people had been making other plans, and in the end we had a group of 11 — a perfect size.

My other anxiety about the trip was the possibility that we might have trouble finding a campsite. The only official campground in the area is at Kodachrome Basin State Park, and all of the sites there had been reserved for quite a while. The national monument has only unreservable, undeveloped camping turn-outs along the main roads. My experience last year in Parowan Canyon made me wary — camping sites there had filled up early. I decided to drive down on Thursday 5/26 so that I would be more likely to get a site. A few other folks with flexible schedules joined me.

As it happens, we had nothing to worry about. Very few of the undeveloped sites were occupied. I wasn't really prepared for that; our people had to wait while Bob and I drove around looking at the campsites and deciding on the best one. We chose one that was reasonably close to the road, where people coming in later could see vehicles and the WMC signage, and there were plenty of juniper trees for shade.

(There was lots of sand, though. If you plan to camp in this part of GSENM, be prepared to get sand in your tent, your clothes, your car... Also, be prepared for loose, sandy stretches on the roads.)

Friday was warm and windy. There were 5 of us, so we could all fit into my 4Runner; I decided to drive us over to Booker Canyon.

Booker is the next major tributary on the east side of Hackberry Canyon south of the (much) more famous Round Valley Draw. We drove the bumpy road out to an unmarked parking spot and set off westward through the piñon-juniper forest. There were scattered tracks in the brush, but nothing resembling a trail.

Following some suggestions that I'd found on the net, we worked our way down the slickrock ridge that divides the upper part of the north fork. Bob found a workable way down into the eastern lobe, descending a very steep, long section of checkerboard slabs. Going downstream, we had to work around pour-offs; the left side seemed best until it wasn't, and then it was again. There are no cairns or signs or tracks, so you mostly just have to see what works.

One of the pour-offs had a nice little slot below it. We worked around it on the left, then when we could re-enter at the bottom, we walked back up to the pour-off and enjoyed a snack in the shade.

We went downstream to the junction with the south fork. This wasn't actually intentional — I didn't realize that it was the south fork until we'd already decided to turn back, and I walked up the slabs on the east side to have a look around. The views were really nice, with big slickrock basins both upstream and down.

When we got back to the parking spot, I asked Gretchen about a chalcedony (?) flake that I'd found, and she said that she had noticed lots of stone flakes and a core. Of course we had to go poking around through the trees looking for more. It was fun to think that folks in the past had spent some time here making arrowheads and spearpoints.

go to the Booker Canyon gallery

We then returned to camp and found that other folks had arrived. After helping people to set some gear up, we organized a trip down to the Cottonwood Canyon narrows.

Cottonwood Canyon runs along the foot of the huge monocline that bounds the east side of the Paria-Hackberry area. The monocline forms a long, straight valley that is paralleled on the east by a line of crags called the Coxcomb. Cottonwood Creek runs in a gorge in the sandstone on the west side of the road before coming out into the valley. At one point, the gorge comes close to the valley but doesn't connect to it; that makes for an upper trailhead. We left my 4Runner as a shuttle vehicle at the lower trailhead where the Cottonwood Creek comes out into the valley, and then we entered the gorge from the upper trailhead.

The canyon is a very easy walk with great scenery. It's worth walking a ways upstream from the upper trailhead, since there is a short section of nice narrows. Downstream, the gorge is pleasantly narrow for a while, before it eventually opens up a bit into a section with high white walls. It closes down somewhat just before coming out at the lower trailhead.

It was a very nice way to start the trip and for people to get acquainted with the scenery.

go to the Cottonwood Canyon Narrows gallery

Saturday was warm and windy too. Both Sue and I had a goal to get to the top of Yellow Rock, a prominence just south of the Hackberry gorge. I figured that we could do Yellow Rock in the morning, then go up Hackberry Canyon in the afternoon.

We parked at the Hackberry Canyon trailhead, then wandered downstream through the cottonwoods and willows to the next minor canyon. We followed a fairly well-established footpath up the canyon toward an enormous pour-off. Before reaching the wall, the path veered off to the right and climbed steeply up a slope to a saddle. After we all caught our breath, we followed the track back into the wash above the pour-off. The enormous bare mound of Yellow Rock loomed ahead.

Sue and Bruce crossed the wash and attacked the southern high point directly, while the rest of us took a northern route. As we picked up elevation, the wind became stronger and stronger. I had to cinch my cap down multiple times to keep it from sailing away in the blast.

The view from the top is fantastic. Castle Rock and its turrets stand out to the north above the Hackberry gorge. To the west, the top of the Grand Staircase is very impressive, from the pink cliffs at Bryce descending through the Gray Cliffs to the White Cliffs of Navajo sandstone, where we stood. The stairs descend to the south to the Colorado River. In the foreground, the sandstone is stained yellow and red and pink; it looks very colorful all the way to the Paria River gorge.

People were huddled together facing north in an effort to avoid the wind. It was hard to have conversations. Even as we descended the slabs, the wind kept blowing and whipping sand in our faces. The yellow-stained stone was really fun, though, and the scenery made up for the conditions (I thought).

go to the Yellow Rock gallery

After a stop at the cars, we entered the Hackberry gorge. All of the descriptions that I had read on-line said that Hackberry Creek has running water, but the creekbed was dry for at least the first mile. Even then, it was barely running. The ongoing drought is very evident.

After a stop for lunch in the shade, we headed up the wet section of the canyon. Some of us put on water shoes or sandals and splashed our way up the creek. It was a nice way to cool off on a hot day. After a while, the canyon opens up and becomes very red.

There are indeed hackberry trees in Hackberry Canyon. The vegetation didn't appear to be suffering from the lack of water (yet).

go to the Hackberry Canyon gallery

Gretchen had spotted a “cave” on the west side of the Cottonwood Canyon Road on an earlier trip. We stopped to investigate it. It's a pretty spot, shady with cottonwood trees. The cave is an alcove in a steep draw; Bruce and a couple others braved the exposed ledges to go up a level and get a view into the alcove. The approach to the upper cave entrance is blocked by a straggly tree, and no one wanted to force their way through it.

We stopped to take photos of the weird pinnacles and slopes of Carmel and Entrada sandstone around the upper Cottonwood Canyon trailhead. I had never been to Grosvenor Arch (apparently pronounced “Grove-ner”), so we made a quick side trip there too.

go to the Cottonwood Canyon Road gallery

On her previous trip, Gretchen hadn't made it to Lick Wash on the west side of the Paria-Hackberry area, so on Sunday morning we decided to give it a shot. It's a fairly long drive along the unpaved Skutumpah Road, which has many steep ups and downs. We stopped on the way at Bull Valley Gorge, where I was surprised to learn that the crushed pick-up that's stuck in the narrows is visible from the bridge above.

Lick Wash has somewhat lusher vegetation than the east-side canyons, probably because it's a little bit higher and is fed by run-off from the Paunsaugunt Plateau (Bryce Canyon). The narrows are walkable and pretty, although they're a bit short.

go to the Lick Wash gallery

We went back north on the Skutumpah Road to do Willis Creek. Willis Creek has fine, walkable narrows with dry, sandy floors. We saw lots of families, plenty of dogs, and a pet goat (!). Horse poop in the bottom shows that horse-riding tours also get down into the gorge. Parking was extremely crowded, but we were extremely creative and got all 3 vehicles squeezed into the overflow area.

I'd read that there were petroglyphs where Willis joins with Sheep Creek. I sent us on a bit of a goose chase heading upstream from the junction; when that didn't pan out, we came back down and discovered a Forest Service sign on the downstream side, showing where to go. The petroglyphs are not in the greatest shape, but they have some interesting patterns. There are (unfortunately) plenty of cowboyglyphs and tourist-glyphs too.

go to the Willis Creek gallery

On Monday, some folks were anxious to start on the drive home before the traffic got awful. However, 6 of us were still interested in doing the well-known Round Valley Draw slot canyon hike. We piled into two vehicles and headed to the inauspicious-looking trailhead. (Diana and Yi went for a hike in Kodachrome Basin.)

We walked down the open, sandy wash for about 2/3 of a mile, following a fairly well-established track that cuts off some of the bends. The narrows start abruptly. The 7-foot drop that I'd read about turned out to be pretty straightforward for our group, but there was some hesitation at the 17-foot drop, which comes shortly after. I pulled my rope out of my pack, and Christine knotted it so that it would make better handholds. I then went down the drop unaided and collected packs tossed down from above. The rest of the group followed, with Simon acting as the anchor at the top. Everybody was happy at the bottom to realize that the worst scramble was past.

The next mile or so went through really pretty narrows. There was beautiful light in many places; other places were dark, and made my camera confused (sigh). We all stopped repeatedly to take pictures. There were a few more downclimbs, mostly at rockfall, but nothing as challenging as the initial downclimb. The walls were curved and striated and seem to go on forever.

A small cairn marked the exit canyon. The trail was steep and loose, but we made it to the top without incident. As predicted by a webpage, there was a road that led away from the end of the trail across the plateau (Slickrock Bench). At this point, I should have re-read the directions that I'd printed and carried with me — instead, I just started walking down the road, keeping an eye out for cairns or an obvious trail.

By the time that we reached a dry stock pond, it was clear that I was off track. I re-read the directions, and they said to follow the road for just “a few minutes” before picking up a “hikers trail” on the south side. None of us had seen any obvious trail leading away from the road.

To make a long story somewhat shorter... We first tried to descend the draw to our south, but it was steep and loose and had lots of awkward brush. After some debate, I insisted that we should return along the road and look for the trail, rather than hike 4 miles or so back to the main road and then down the Round Valley Draw road. We didn't find anything resembling a trail leading away from the road, not even a use trail. We found footprints, but they seemed to be from people who were lost like us, and they faded away in the brush. Eventually we just struck out south toward the rim, and we picked up a use trail near the edge. That trail improved gradually as we got closer to the southern draw that we'd checked out before, and eventually the trail dropped fairly steeply into the bowl and took us back to Round Valley Draw just above the narrows.

When we got back to camp, Diana and Yi had been waiting for us for at least a couple of hours, and they were preparing to bail. The rest of us showed up in the nick of time, and we were able to get everything stowed and get people on their way home. Phew.

Many thanks to the participants for their company on a truly enjoyable weekend: Christine, Diana, Susan, Bob, Michele, Simon, Gretchen, Yi, Sue and Bruce.

go to the Round Valley Draw gallery

Starting in 2009, I made four annual trips, exploring the Behind-the-Rocks area just south and west of Moab. This area is full of fins and joints in Navajo sandstone, and navigating through it is really tough. It's also spectacular, with big walls and deep canyons, full of unusual topography. On each visit I worked out a new route, and it became apparent that in spite of the insanely difficult terrain, there might actually be a class 3 route through the maze from one side to the other that hit the highlights of all of my trips. I spent hours poring over maps and satellite photos and came up with a possible overall route. In 2012 I finally tried to put it all together, and we did succeed in crossing from Hidden Valley to Pritchett Canyon, but we ran out of time for the wonderful lower section and had to come out through an escape route in the middle of Pritchett.

Ten years later, I decided to try again. I figured that if I didn't need to spend as much time on routefinding, we could do the whole route in a day.

But first we had to battle the weather. The forecast for Friday kept getting wetter as the week wore on, going from a 20% chance of rain to a 40% chance and then to a 60% chance. On the drive down US 6 from Price, the rain and wind were brutal. My passengers, Hong and Bob, weren't excited about setting up tents in a muddy campground, and Hong used her phone to make motel reservations in Moab for the night.

When we arrived in Moab, there were heaps of hail in the gutters. After unloading Hong's and Bob's baggage at the motel, we drove to the reserved group campground in Kane Creek. I had warned some folks about the wet conditions by text, and a few of them had declined to come on the trip. Others showed up at the campground and set up tents in the mud. The campground had a couple of picnic tables under a shelter, and when the rain squalls passed through, we shivered under the roof. I managed to cook dinner in spite of all of this, and afterwards I drove Hong and Bob back to Moab. When I returned, there was another squall, and at the end of the squall the sun came out briefly and made a gorgeous rainbow.

go to the Kane Creek gallery

Saturday morning was cool but dry. I decided that we should prepare to do the long traverse hike, but be ready to bag it if the conditions at the start of the hike showed that it would be muddy and unpleasant. I let the starting time slide a bit, hoping that the landscape would dry out.

After leaving a shuttle vehicle and picking up Hong and Bob, we drove to the Hidden Valley trailhead. We hit the trail a bit after 9 AM. The Hidden Valley trail has been improved in the last 10 years, and it's much easier to follow now. We had fantastic views of the white-cloaked La Sals as we gradually climbed up to the Moab Rim. The trail was in fine condition, so after checking out some petroglyphs, we stepped off the trail and into the fins.

My memory of the route was actually pretty good, given that 10 years had passed. The scenery is still insanely gorgeous. We got to visit many beautiful overlooks and to admire the artistically stained Navajo sandstone walls. There was plenty of scrambling, and some of it was a bit challenging for class 3. The soil wasn't particularly muddy, although there were pools of water in places. I had managed to erase a lot of the bushwhacking from my memory, though, and we ended up in a few thrashes. It was chilly when passing clouds blocked the sun, but warm when the sun was out, so it was hard to decide what layers to wear.

The group did a great job of sticking together and helping everyone get through the tough spots. I was amused and a bit concerned at the notorious “5-foot drop” pour-off, though. As on every previous trip through here, everyone looked at the overhung drop and decided that it was too hard. I kept saying that it was just 5 feet, and that became a running joke for the rest of the trip. Eventually Hong volunteered to be lowered over the edge, and by standing next to the lip, she demonstrated that the drop was almost exactly 5 feet. After that, some people just jumped it, while we lowered others using muscle power.

I made my one major routefinding mistake shortly after. I managed to walk past the ramp that goes up to the final notch, and we ended bushwhacking down a narrow joint. Eventually I told people to wait while Gabe and I scouted the lower end, where I was forced to conclude that we were off track. We backtracked and quickly found the ramp. I got some fun photos of Connie and Hong in the notch, and we then descended the (much longer) ramp on the other side.

There were motorheads in Pritchett Canyon when finally reached the jeep track. We saw a couple of Jeeps with lift kits, which surprised me a bit, since the Pritchett track is in terrible condition — even dirt bikes have trouble on some parts of it. The BLM rates it a 9 out of 10 on its difficulty scale.

We made it back to the Kane Creek road at Pritchett in about 9 hours. That's really good time for this gnarly route. Everyone deserves a medal!

go to the Behind-the-Rocks gallery

Sunday morning was so lovely that we just had to do one more hike before leaving. I suggested Hunter Canyon, so we piled into shuttle vehicles and drove the short distance to the trailhead. It turned out that no one else on the trip had been there, which I found a little surprising since the canyon is close to Moab and it's absolutely wonderful. The trail is reasonably easy to follow, and it takes you past multiple arches and alcoves. A small stream runs through the canyon, and in the slickrock sections, it flows through curving water pockets and splashes over sandstone shelves. The cottonwoods were a glorious green, backlit by the morning sun. It was a fine send-off for a fine weekend.

go to the Hunter Canyon gallery

Last Thanksgiving, I left some chips on the table. (Hey, it's Nevada!) We ran out of time to do full justice to a really wonderful hike in the southwestern part of Gold Butte National Monument. (To be fully truthful, the hike is in the adjacent part of Lake Mead National Recreation Area, but accessed through Gold Butte). I decided that I'd collaborate with my friend Deborah, who came on that first attempt, and put a trip on the WMC schedule that would go the full distance, and add more fun hikes in the same area.

On Thursday March 17th, Hong and I drove down to St George and met up with Jim at the Costco gas pumps. Jim and Deborah then did the right thing and checked traffic on their cell phone apps, while I blithely drove with Hong into a 1-hour traffic jam between exit 118 and exit 112 on I-15 west of Mesquite. Urk. We finally hooked up and drove past the Bundy Ranch and Pyramid Bob's pyramid into Gold Butte.

We camped at the Connoly Wash corral, close to the end of the good part of the Cottonwood Wash road. I was ecstatic to get such a nice spot, so close to the hikes.

On Friday, we got an early start on the hike that ran out of time over Thanksgiving. We breezed up the burro trail to the saddle into Indian Hills Wash, then took our time heading downstream into the upper narrows. The ground was literally carpeted with flowers — it seemed to alternate between Coulter's lupine and a tiny yellow composite flower. The Mojave yuccas were in bloom, with spectacular cream and purplish inflorescences. The birds were also wonderful; Deborah and Jim pointed out the antics of the phainopeplas, little black birds with crests and white stripes on their wings. They can sit on a branch, suddenly shoot up and grab a bug, then return, making a lightning-fast loop.

We made good time through the upper narrows, then after a break of a mile, we entered what I had previously considered the lower narrows. This is all incredible territory, but I was really curious to know what came after the pour-off where we stopped in November. I knew that there was an easy way around that pour-off, but would there be a showstopper pour-off around the next bend?

The answer is “no.” There is a third set of narrows, the true lower narrows. The obstacles in it are all class 3, just as in the other narrows, so the entirety of this amazing canyon can be done without ropes or serious exposure. The walls remain tall and spectacular down into the Lake Mead high stand, where huge piles of driftwood show up. In fact, we had to clamber over one long pile that filled the canyon from wall to wall, which was a bit disconcerting.

After a while, we came out onto the dried-up mudflats which are the bed of (the former) Lake Mead. We bashed our way through dead tamarisk in search of the Colorado River, but that quickly grew tiring. We stopped for lunch on a knob of rock overlooking the “lake.” It sure would be nice if a flood would wash all the debris out of the bottom of the canyon, but if the weather were to be that wet, then the lake might come up again and drown it.

Unlike in November, we did see a few boot prints this time, proving that the canyon is not completely undiscovered. It still felt cool to have it all to ourselves, though.

go to the Indian Hills Wash gallery

On Saturday, we did a completely exploratory loop. The hike started from our campsite and went 0.3 mi north on the road to a very faint jeep track on the east side that descends into New Spring Wash. I was a bit surprised to see a concrete tank with water at the spring; I had assumed that it would be dry.

We then followed the wash downstream through an increasingly deep gorge. There are a couple of class 4-ish obstacles that can be passed on the south side, but otherwise it's pretty straightforward. The gorge exits into a broad valley and becomes Million Hills Wash. Million Hills Wash in turn has a short gorge of its own with a fun double arch at the top.

We continued down into the wide lower valley of Million Hills Wash until we got a view of the bottom of the Connoly Canyon gorge, our return route. It's pretty outrageous and hard to miss; we had lunch and admired it, and also admired the view down to the Colorado River gorge. A flock of hawks or turkey buzzards that was circling in the distance began to approach us, and I wondered whether we were on the menu, but we left before we could find out.

Connoly Wash is dramatic. I was expecting good scenery here, and it delivered even more than I'd hoped. There are two sections of exceptionally deep gorge, where steeply dipping sedimentary beds produce big walls that the gorge punches through. The terrain is so gnarly that I had a bit of trouble navigating — just go left at the first big fork, and right at the second one.

Once out of the gorge, it's still a long way back to camp. I was pretty relieved when we hit the Cottonwood Wash road again. But I was happy to have another beautiful day in the desert.

go to the New Spring Wash / Connoly Wash gallery

For Sunday, we decided to go to the granite country at the top of Cottonwood Wash. I had planned a loop; we left my 4Runner at the top of the loop, so that we wouldn't have to walk the road at the end of the hike. Instead, we walked down the rough road, past the starting point for the Indian Hills Wash hike, then picked up the rocky canyon that would take us into the hills on the west side of the road.

“Rocky” turned out to be an understatement. The wash was a narrow gorge that twisted its way over pour-offs and through huge boulder piles. It was very pretty, but the route-finding was so tough that it took us well over an hour to go a mile up the canyon. The next section involved a steep series of consecutive pour-offs, so I decided to pass it by going up the slope on the south side of the wash. That route was better but it was still pretty slow. When we reached the top, we discovered that it didn't just drop into the upper basin, and we had to go up and down through more boulders before we could drop in.

We were now finally at the foot of the granite peaks that we'd been looking at all morning from a distance. To make the loop work, we needed to cross the ridge just north of the northernmost peak, so we battled our way up the slabs and through the cat-claw acacia. Every time I thought that we were in range, another boulder-choked gully opened up and we had to work around it or through it. Eventually I spotted a relatively clear area below a knob at our level, and we scrambled our way there. We took a break for lunch and considered our options.

It was already 1 PM, and we had covered maybe 2.5 miles. At that rate, we'd be back to camp well after dark. I decided that we should give up on the loop and hunt for the jeep road in the basin to the north, then follow that back to the main Cottonwood Wash road. Although the terrain to the north wasn't quite as rocky and rugged as what we'd just come through, it still had challenges. Each little drainage leading to the basin was choked with brush and boulders. We kept contouring to the north, looking for an easier way down, when Deborah finally ran across an old bulldozer track.

The hike down the jeep road was much less stressful than the slog through the lovely but difficult granite slabs. There were huge tracts of gorgeous desert goldenpoppies, and grand views down to the puddle that was now Lake Mead. The bad news was that we had to hike a mile and a half back up the road to the vehicle, but I was grateful that we'd avoided getting stuck among the boulders.

go to the Cottonwood Wash gallery

My company forced all employees to take the entire week of Thanksgiving off this year. I was in the mood for some adventure, so I booked a WMC trip to southern Nevada, where I was hoping that the climate would be more agreeable than at home.

At one point I had 13 people signed up for the trip, but in the end, just 6 of us went. Only Bob and I went on all of the activities; other folks were present for different parts of the trip. It was fun to have a changing roster — new people and new conversation!

Hong and Gretchen wanted to follow me to the camp site, to avoid getting lost. I arranged for us to meet at the gas pumps at the Costco in St George. I was impressed to see a woman pumping gas while wearing a black down vest and beanie over her pastel green drop-waisted FLDS dress.

I had visited Mesquite in October and noted that there was construction on the I-15 bridge over the Virgin River just outside Beaver Dam AZ. On Saturday 11/20, we passed miles of northbound traffic backed up at the bridge; it made us very determined to avoid the bridge on Sunday 11/28 after Thanksgiving.

The road into Gold Butte National Monument between Bunkerville and Whitney Pocket is nominally paved, but the pavement so worn and full of potholes that dirt might have been better. The chip-seal is so eroded that the ancient pavement patches now protrude like traffic-calming bumps. It took us about an hour to drive the 21 miles into Whitney Pocket.

To my surprise, most of the camping loops around Whitney Pocket have now been furnished with port-a-potties. There were a fair number of people camped there; we found a loop that was occupied on one side of the port-a-potty, and we took the other side. The ground was mostly flat, with good dirt for tent stakes, and fantastic views of the sunrise and sunset. Around Thanksgiving, the sun rises at 6:15 AM PST and sets at 4:35 PM PST; we agreed to keep Utah time because dusk at 4:30 was just too hard to deal with. I brought my Coleman gas lantern and it was very useful for our evening get-togethers.

Speaking of evening get-togethers, the running joke of the trip was the bottle of Stella Rosa wine that Gretchen had bought on sale. Gretchen brought it out that evening, and to her dismay, she discovered that the wine was (a) only 5% ABV, (b) sparkling red, and (c) quite sweet. She shopped it around the table and no one could stand more than a taste. After that point, I kept expecting that Gretchen (or someone, anyone) would just pour it out on the sand and put it out of its misery, but instead it kept popping up at dinner times to surprise unwary newcomers. At one point I found the half-filled bottle in my own dining kit... Bob couldn't bear to dump the bottle, and it went home with him.

My 4Runner served as a 4WD bus on the trip. On Sunday morning, I hauled our group on a complicated route over rutted, sandy and rocky back roads to the upper end of the Nickel Creek gorge. Nickel Creek drains the scenic, cliffy basin on the north side of the Virgin Peak crest south of Bunkerville and Mesquite. It has a narrow gorge in its upper section that cuts through some pretty metamorphic rock.

I had visited the bottom end of the gorge back in January 2018 and found that it was too difficult for me to ascend, but it made me curious about the other end. This time, I navigated unsigned dirt tracks by GPS and ended up on a fairly terrible road into Nickel Creek just above the gorge.

The hike started out on a gravelly slope that funneled into the gorge, passing through clumps of narrowleaf cottonwoods, turning gold in the fall. When the streambed crossed onto the metamorphic rock, water came to the surface, first as a trickle and then as a chain of green pools in striped polished stone. Before long, the channel became steep, narrow and slippery, and we decided to turn around.

After returning to the 4Runner, I decided that it would be interesting to walk up the road into the upper basin. I wanted some good photos of the imposing limestone walls above us, but the low sun angle made it tough. The road here is very washed-out and rocky, but the scenery is pretty good.

The rocks in Nickel Creek were full of lovely patterns and crystals. Hong collected some great samples and loaded them into the 4Runner.

go to the Nickel Creek gallery

Our next stop on Sunday was the Falling Man petroglyph site. I had visited the site a couple of times before, but it's packed with rock art and I saw some new panels on this trip, along with many isolated glyphs. We had a blast just wandering around among the sandstone domes and exploring the nooks and crannies.

After spending more than an hour at Falling Man, we went over to the 21 Goats site, which has a fantastic panel with a chain of bighorn sheep [sic].

go to the Falling Man gallery

At dawn on Monday morning, we were roused by a crew who serviced the port-a-potty at our campsite. We were happy that the toilet was clean, a little less happy that we couldn't sleep in.

After breakfast, we went to the Kohta Circus petroglyph site. The trailhead is further down the same bumpy road as Falling Man and 21 Goats, but there is a steep hill and a washout before you reach the parking area. My recollection is that the hill used to have a nasty rut that restricted it to high clearance 4WD, but it appears to have been re-bladed and is now merely terrible rather than awful.

After starting up the sandy trail, it became clear that many people had driven around the signs and barriers that the BLM had erected to keep vehicles out. One set of tracks was so wide, they looked like Humvee tracks, trashing the vegetation on both sides of the former jeep road that we were walking on. Pretty stupid. The tracks stopped where the trail crossed a deep wash.

The trail follows the edge of an area of sandstone domes and canyons. Eventually it turns and drops into a canyon; the Circus panel is on a wall in a little side canyon. The Circus is an amazing, tightly packed assortment of all sorts of animals. Along with the usual bighorns, there are also people, deer, dogs, birds, snakes and tortoises.

Across the canyon from the Circus panel are more gorgeous panels, high up on a wall. We scrambled up as far as we could and got to see some very nice petroglyphs, but the best stuff requires some hairy exposure, so we admired it from a distance.

This is a fun area to explore. Hong and I went downstream through a mini-slot canyon, then went up a narrow joint that continued for a hundred yards or more. Bob and Gretchen checked out another joint system at the top of the draw that the Circus sits in. Using Google Maps, I had scoped out another joint system that looked like it might be an alternative route out of the Circus slickrock area, and we explored that area too, finding a somewhat circuitous route up to the top.

We walked back to the trail along the bases of cliffy sandstone domes, where Gretchen found plenty of agate / chalcedony flakes, discarded from the manufacture of stone tools. The flakes were quite pretty; we left them where we found them.

go to the Kohta Circus gallery

After a break at camp, we took off to visit Little Finland.

On the way there, we stopped at the Devil's Throat, a large sinkhole that formed in early 1900s. The site is a bit of an anticlimax — since the hole keeps getting wider and the edges are very unstable, the fence around the hole has been moved so far away from the edge that you can't actually see into the pit.

It was getting late in the day when we arrived at Little Finland. I had been there once before so I was in on the joke, but I think it didn't sink in for some people until we were on top of the cliff among the bizarre formations. The red light from the setting sun made the red blobs and holes look even stranger.

Cassie arrived that evening. She had originally planned to drive down on Saturday with the rest of us, but work stuff came up and she was delayed. She ended up flying from SLC to St George on Monday and renting a car, then driving the brutal road into Whitney Pocket. That takes real dedication!

go to the Little Finland gallery

I scheduled Tuesday for my big experimental hike to Indian Hills Wash.

Looking at Google satellite photos of Gold Butte, I had noticed a very interesting-looking canyon way down in the southeast corner, crossing into Lake Mead NRA. The canyon appeared to have some spectacular gorges cutting abruptly through tilted layers of rock. It also looked like it was in an area so remote that there was no human imprint on the landscape until you reached the lakeshore. A Google search didn't reveal any trip reports. I worked out an 11-mile round trip route from the nearest road. I was fascinated, and I had to check it out even if the route had obstacles that kept us from reaching the mouth of the canyon.

The hike was interesting enough to Deborah that she made the effort to join us at 6:40 AM Nevada time, leaving from St George and arriving at our camp just after sunrise. There's some more real dedication. Gretchen, on the other hand, left us for the day to hike on her own and then spend the night in Mesquite. (Hot showers!)

We drove from Whitney Pocket south to the Cottonwood Wash road. The road is reasonable inside Gold Butte NM — a bit rocky or sandy in a few places, but bladed and drivable by most vehicles. That changes abruptly when the road reaches the actual Cottonwood Wash and dips into Lake Mead NRA. The last ~3 miles to the trailhead are probably the worst that we drove on the entire trip. There are big boulders, steep hills, ruts and washouts; it's strictly for high clearance 4WD.

The start of the route is a draw that heads east off of Cottonwood Wash. It climbs moderately, then steeply, to the divide with Indian Hills Wash. There is lots of burro poop and many burro trails; the trails, when you can follow them, stay above the catclaw and boulders at the bottom of the draw.

On the other side of the divide, the slope is much gentler. We followed the drainage down through creosote and agave into a valley. The valley opens up again and flows toward a distinct dark wall. That's where the fun starts.

The limestone beds come out of the ground almost vertically here. The wash first punches through a brownish-orange wall, then appears to hit a dead end. At the last moment, it takes a hard swerve to the right and wriggles through impressive vertical beds in a narrows. There's a minor chokestone obstacle in the narrows, easy third class, which we passed without a problem. There are arches everywhere in this section. I think this is the spot where Deborah observed that the barrel cacti that fell from the cliffs and split open looked like durians.

After leaving this narrows, the streamcourse crosses another open area, then reaches a mountainous barrier. The stream runs north for almost a mile along this wall, then turns hard to the right again and enters a lower narrows. The lower narrows is deeper and longer than the upper narrows, and it has more obstacles. The obstacles once again turned out to be fairly straightforward class 3 scrambles.

Eventually we reached a pour-off. I decided that this was a fine place to have lunch and turn back, since I was worried that we could get back to the 4Runner after dark. I really didn't want to thrash through catclaw with headlamps, then drive the awful road in the dark. Deborah found a steep way to scramble around the pour-off and reported that the canyon just kept going. That motivated me to check for myself, and I found a class 2+ ramp on the left that completely avoided the hard part. At this point we were maybe 3/4 of a mile from the lakeshore in a spectacular gorge, and it was very tempting to push on, but I forced myself to turn the group around.

We actually made pretty good time on the way out, in spite of having to climb 2000+ feet, mostly on sand and loose gravel. We met a tarantula crossing the upper wash; Deborah got a fantastic photo. We got down to the 4Runner when there was still some sunlight on the mountain tops, and we made it back to camp while there was still a little light in the sky.

go to the Indian Hills Wash gallery

Deborah and Hong left us on Wednesday morning, so that they could be home for Thanksgiving. The rest of us packed up camp and headed into Mesquite to resupply. We met Gretchen there and convoyed over to the Buffington Pockets.

This area is about 50 miles west of Mesquite, in the northwestern part of the Muddy Mountains. Like Gold Butte, there are many exposures of red and buff Aztec sandstone (Navajo sandstone by another name), and lots of rock art. When we reached the area where I wanted to camp, the wind was brisk and chilly, so I hunted for a more sheltered spot and found one not too far away.

By the time we had set up camp, it was already late afternoon. (The sun went down around 4:30 PM Nevada time!) We still had enough time to walk into the Pockets from camp, however, so I organized a hike. We strolled up the awful road into the Pockets to an old concrete dam (which used to collect water for cattle?). Someone has creatively painted a huge image of an owl on the front of the dam, which makes it stand out. We went around the dam to look for the well-known petroglyph panel a short distance upstream. The panel turned out to be located next to a natural tank (with water!) in a short narrows. I'm not used to seeing petroglyphs in places like that, but I guess the artists had their own reasons for working there.

go to the Buffington Pockets gallery

Thanksgiving Day was dedicated to Valley of Fire State Park. We were camped off of the road to the western entrance to the park, so it was pretty straightforward to drive there.

The visitor center had Thanksgiving hours and didn't open until 10 AM, so we drove over to the Mouse's Tank trail. On the way we saw two bighorn sheep in the cliffs above the visitor center; what fun! I had misremembered the location of the best petroglyphs along the trail, but our detour didn't take long. By the time we returned to the trailhead, the parking lot had mostly filled up.

When we returned to the visitor center, not only had the parking lot mostly filled up, but there were two full busloads of tourists milling around. I tried to get a park brochure, but they were all out. By the time we left, the place was swarming with people; I was very impressed.

I had planned an exploratory hike into Fire Canyon, which is the central drainage of the southern section of the park. By some miracle we found a parking place at Silica Dome. From there, we walked east around the head of the basin on the Silica Dome trail, looking for cairns or other evidence that people had successfully descended through the cliffs. After a while we simply left the trail and wandered south onto the sandstone slabs on the east side of the draw. We contoured fairly high to stay above obvious pour-offs in the drainage, until Bob found a nice class 2+ crack that led down to a cairn in the bottom.

The soft sand in the bottom of the draw made hiking a bit of a slog, and there was plenty of catclaw. On the plus side, the canyon was narrow and colored a gorgeous shade of red. Like Indian Hills Wash, the obstacles were all fairly straightforward class 3. I think we could have easily made it down to where the wash leaves the domes, but we decided to turn around so that we'd have time to visit more of the park.

After returning to the 4Runner, we drove north to the White Domes area. The trailhead is at the end of the paved road, and it was very busy. We somehow managed to find a parking space, and we started hiking. Bob decided to do the class 4 scramble to the top of the dome on the east side of the parking lot, while the rest of us walked the loop around the west dome.

There was a bighorn traffic jam on the way back down to the park entrance. A ranger in a truck flashed his light rack at me, and I pulled to a sudden stop so that a herd of several bighorns could saunter across the road. Very cool — it's nice to see them bouncing back. On the drive back to camp, we passed an incredible number of cars that were still headed to the park, even though it was late in the afternoon. I had no idea that Valley of Fire was now so popular.

Back at camp, I made stovetop turkey tetrazzini as an experiment, using a smoked turkey breast that I had barbecued and frozen the previous week. It worked out very well, but I made so much that I ended up feeding myself, Bob and Cassie, and had enough leftovers for two more meals at home.

go to the Valley of Fire gallery

Cassie departed on Friday morning, leaving just me, Bob and Gretchen. I took our depleted group to two familiar places.

Hidden Valley is a huge bowl surrounded by the Muddy Mountains, with Aztec sandstone that forms walls and floors and domes and monoliths. We accessed it by walking up the outlet stream through a narrow limestone gorge, where monstrous fallen boulders occasionally block progress. The wide expanse of Hidden Valley is a bit of a surprise after the claustrophobic gorge.

In 2018, Nance and I had hiked up the gorge, then crossed the ridge to the north and descended through the Colorock Quarry, making a loop back to the car. This time, our little group spent hours exploring the maze of joints and cracks on the west side of the valley. We found flakes from the manufacturing of stone tools, as well as occasional rock art. The best panel was located in a little alcove along with the skull of a bighorn sheep.

It was very tempting to keep wandering, but we started to run out of water. We crossed the ridge to the Colorock area, where we found more rock art and flakes, not to mention fantastic rock staining reminiscent of wonderstone from Utah.

go to the Hidden Valley gallery

We had a bit of time left in the day, so I suggested that we drive the 30 miles to Arrow Canyon. Arrow Canyon is the defining feature of the Arrow Canyon Range, a rugged chain of peaks that parallels US 93 to the east as it heads north to Caliente and Ely. For some reason, the huge basin of Pahranagat Wash funnels through two narrow canyons in the Arrow Canyon Range to reach the Muddy River to the east. Arrow Canyon is the lower, eastern canyon.

In spite of the fact that I'd shot dozens of photos on an earlier visit, I couldn't resist taking more on this trip. We hiked past some really nice petroglyphs into the lower narrows, which was just as deep and slot-like as I'd remembered. Unlike my previous visit, this time we had plenty of company. The Southern Nevada Climbing Coalition has put up a sign at the trailhead, and the (small) parking area at the end of the (terrible) road was full. (Someone had managed to drive a Toyota Sienna minivan to the end of that road; I was (and am) amazed.)

We found climbers and bolted routes in the lower narrows. I remembered seeing climbers in the upper narrows on my previous visit; the lower narrows are taller and more intimidating, and I wasn't surprised that they are getting climbed. I still love the way that the barrel cacti on the walls defy gravity and stick out perpendicular to the slope.

We returned to camp after dark, sneaking past the “Trump 2020” encampment next to the Buffington Pockets road to reach our little camp. I made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for dinner. The next morning we packed up and headed home, hoping to beat the traffic back to SLC.

go to the Arrow Canyon gallery

When I was considering places to go camping for Labor Day this year, high on my list of concerns was finding an area that was unlikely to be on fire. As it happens, the north slope of the Wind Rivers had a little pocket where the drought level was not extreme, unlike the rest of the West. To sweeten the deal, I had done a couple of solo hikes in the Fitzpatrick Wilderness back in 2003 and it looked like a pretty cool area. I put a trip on the WMC schedule and hoped for the best.

As the date approached, I got a bit worried about finding a campsite amid the Labor Day rush. I arranged to arrive on Thursday, so that I could nail down a site before the sites were all overwhelmed. Bob and I carpooled up from SLC on Thursday morning, and we managed to snag part of a a large camping area at the outlet of Trail Lake. We arrived just in time, because sites filled up rapidly, and our own site was visited many times by people looking for a place to camp.

The site was located on a ridge about 50 feet above the water and it had a lovely view. Bob and I erected his canopy and as the afternoon went on, all of the other participants showed up. A storm also showed up, with some wind and rain around dinnertime. It quieted down before bedtime, with blue sky filling in from the southwest.

A couple of hours later, a huge storm crashed into the area, with lighting, thunder, downpours, ferocious wind — the works. I huddled in my tent and tried to get some sleep, realizing that all of the gear that we'd set up was going to blow away. I couldn't persuade myself to go out into the rain and wind to salvage the gear.

In the morning, Bob's canopy was a mangled mess. My tables and benches and camp chair were scattered around the site. Bob and Stanley disassembled the cold, wet remains of the canopy frame and piled it in a heap next to a big rock.

There was a little good news — the weather was clear and calm. I decided that we could do the Bomber Falls hike, up the East Fork of Torrey Creek to a 600-foot cascade, and then on to the top of the falls for a view up the next section of the canyon. The trails were muddy and full of puddles, but we were (mostly) spared from sloshing through thick wet vegetation. We started out on the Glacier Trail, which climbs a few switchbacks and then crosses to the east side of Torrey Creek on a bridge above an impressive gorge with many waterfalls and cascades. We followed the trail up over glacier-polished slabs and traversed into the valley of the East Fork. The trail alternated between meadow and forest, and we got some nice views of Bomber Basin below the falls, and eventually got a distant view of the falls themselves.

At this point we came across a sign pointing left to the Glacier Trail. I was hoping to see an official sign pointing to the Bomber Falls trail; instead, the sign had scratches on it pointing to the right to “BOMBER” and a faint trail through a meadow. My instincts failed me at that point — I decided to follow the main trail instead and look for an “official” trail junction. Oops. We ended up thrashing down a slope through deadfall to reach the “BOMBER” trail that I had cavalierly ignored.

Once we were back on the correct trail, it was much easier going. We did lose the track in a swampy spot next to a big gray bluff above the creek, but we picked it up again after crossing a talus pile. We met Greg as he came back from scouting the falls area. We followed him to the base of the 600-ft knob that the creek pours over. He and Bob elected to cross a talus field to try to find the base of the falls, while the rest of us went up the steep trail to the top of the knob. The trail goes up and down and sideways, like playing Chutes and Ladders. It's not too hard to follow if you look for cut logs and account for deadfall, but it could use some improvement.

When we reached the top, we decided that we would try to get a view down to the falls. We contoured around the west side of the knob on wet rock, made very slippery by mushy lichen. We were able to inch close to the edge for a view down — the falls roared down through a narrow gorge just below us. We started to have lunch, but then realized that it might be less windy near the top of the knob, where we had already agreed to meet Greg and Bob.

Naturally Greg and Bob were already there. We lounged around on the rock, finding nooks that protected us from the wind and exposed us to some sun. I admired the seriously special view up the canyon, with sunlight glittering off wet granite slabs. After a while, I noticed some different glittering through the trees on the other side of the creek — we had spotted the bomber wreckage, about a hundred yards up from the top of the falls.

The story goes that on August 14, 1943, a B24E bomber was on a training run from Pocatello with eight crew members. It was seen turning up Torrey Creek. Apparently it couldn't quite clear (what is now) Bomber Falls, but even if it had managed to get above the falls, it certainly couldn't have made it out of the canyon. The locals saw a forest fire, and found the wreckage when they responded. The cascade has been known as “Bomber Falls” ever since.

Back in camp, I noticed a huge osprey nest in a tree on the other side of the Trail Lake outlet. One osprey was perched on a nearby branch that bounced around in the wind, while another one was busy with something in the nest. The nest was so deep that both birds could disappear into it, and sometimes we could just see heads or wings bobbing above the rim. It looked like they were busy on some important secret project. Watching the ospreys was a fun pastime in camp.

go to the Bomber Falls gallery

For Saturday, I had originally planned an insane cross-country loop up the West Fork of Torrey Creek from Lake Louise to Ross Lake. The area is gorgeous, but it's so rugged that it probably would have taken us all day just to get halfway through the route. The clincher was the soggy lichen that we were slipping on on Friday — I didn't want to expose our group to exposed scrambling on the wet granite.

So instead we took the trail to Ross Lake. It's a 12-mile out-and-back hike that avoids the scrambling by staying high on sandstone ledges, only dropping down when approaching the lake. The route starts out on the Whiskey Mountain Trail, climbing from the Glacier Trailhead to a junction at 10,200 ft. The switchbacks aren't particularly steep, but they seem to go on forever. The scenery is excellent — there are fantastic views out over the Torrey Creek drainage, and closer in, the cliffs and forest are also very nice. We could see the Continental Divide ahead of us, with its distinctive uniform arc (the old erosional surface after the Laramide Orogeny that originally built the Rocky Mountains).

When we reached the junction with the cut-off trail to Ross Lake, a chilly wind was blowing hard. A couple folks decided that they'd had enough, so after lunch in the sheltering trees, we split up, with some of us soldiering on and the others heading back down. I put on multiple layers of wind protection, which predictably I then took off 10 minutes later.

The trail runs through alternating meadows and forest with gentle ups and downs. Eventually we reached a long meadow with a small pond in it, overlooked by a huge pile of rocks that reminded me of a grandstand. At that point, the trail cuts sharply to the south and descends on steep, rocky switchbacks. We stopped in multiple places to admire the view. After wandering through a delightful woodland, the trail pops out near the north end of Ross Lake.

Ross Lake is surrounded by amazing cliffs and towers cut out of the granite. There is basically no place to camp at the lake — the terrain is granite slabs and talus piles. This was going to be a problem for the multiple groups of backpackers that we encountered. Their dogs were very friendly; at least the dogs wouldn't have much trouble sleeping on the bare rocks. We did see a handful of places to camp along the trail below the switchbacks, none of them close to the water.

While I was wheezing my way back up the switchbacks, Greg came out at the top and encountered a couple of black bears. They were unsociable and camera-shy. I hope the backpackers didn't run into them at night.

On the hike back, the air got clearer and clearer. The smoke got pretty much completely blown out, and the views were spectacular. We could even see the Absaroka Range across the Wind River Valley to the north.

At the trailhead I had to inflate a tire on my 4Runner; that turned out to be a bad omen.

go to the Ross Lake gallery

I got some pushback against doing a big hike on Sunday. Instead, I put together a few shorter adventures.

In the morning, we went to look at petroglyphs. We heard from other folks that there were cool petroglyphs spread out all along the Trail Lake road, and specifically that there were some very nice ones right across the Trail Lake Road from our campsite. I had done a short recon to our local petroglyphs on the previous morning, and I led the group around to the highlights.

The petroglyphs were exquisitely weird and detailed. Some people wondered if the petroglyphs could be very old if they were so sophisticated; however, you could see lichen covering parts of some petroglyphs, so I'm guessing that the petroglyphs are in fact pretty old. A number of the petroglyphs looked vaguely like animals or human figures, but some of the big ones were impossible for me to categorize. Your guess is as good as mine — take a look at the photos and see what you think.

We then piled into our carpooling vehicles and headed for the trailhead, to hike to Lake Louise. Lake Louise is probably the most popular (and shortest) day hike destination from the Glacier trailhead. The trail is surprisingly erratic and poorly graded given its popularity, but that adds to the fun. We hiked across bare rock and through forest, next to some impressive waterfalls and cascades. Occasionally we had to follow cairns across the slabs. There was a massive logjam on the cascade just below the lake, which made some of us wonder if the logs would work as a bridge to get across the creek.

The trail ends at some boulders on the far eastern shore of the lake. We had lunch and enjoyed the awesome view. The lakeshore is quite cliffy in places; we watched people working around a cliffy section on the far shore. It looked like a tough route to take without getting wet. On our (north) side, the cliffs also dropped into the water; however, we could see people camped on the far side of the cliffs, so there was obviously a way to get there.

We were curious, so we decided to do a little bit of my crazy scrambling route. Greg led us up onto the granite dome to the north, then down steep slabs to a brushy draw, which we descended to the campsite. The campers were in the process of pulling down their camp. It turned out that some of the people at the camp had hiked over the slabs, some had waded, and some took a packraft ferry (!).

We walked over to the narrow strait that divides the eastern bay from the main part of Lake Louise. The shoreline gets steep again here, not quite a cliff. It looked to me like there was a class 3 route around the obstacles but it was hard to tell whether it went very far.

Stanley climbed up on some boulders to check it out. It was tempting to go further, but some folks in the group wanted to head back and I didn't want us to get separated when going cross-country, so we turned around. The slabs were an absolute blast on the hike back. We were having so much fun that we walked right past the trail and didn't realize it, and had to backtrack.

On the way back down the trail, we bumped into a small group with a big and playful Irish wolfhound. One guy was wearing a kilt. Yi asked him whether he was wearing anything under the kilt, and he cheerfully demonstrated that he was not. Some things you only see on Labor Day weekends.

Stanley's truck had at least one low tire now, as did Michelle's Subaru. All of us but Greg drove into Dubois (DOO-boyce, pop 971) to get gas and inflate tires. After visiting the gas station, we walked around the business district, such as it is. There is a boardwalk on both sides of the main street with people's names carved into it. A western wear shop was undergoing a bank-organized liquidation sale; Michelle and Bob tried on boots, but didn't buy anything. We stopped at the honey shop, which had zillions of different containers of honey, collected from hives all around the Wind River valley.

Back at camp, Rick and Reba came over to visit. Rick had been camping near us in a very rustic truck camper, and Reba was his 14-year-old border collie mix. Rick had worked for the Forest Service and other organizations in the Winds for 20+ years, and he had some fun stories about living in Wyoming and hiking in the backcountry with his “pack” of dogs. He's not a fan of wolves, but he did have some interesting experiences with grizzlies and moose. The next morning, he was taking off up the Glacier Trail to see if he could find the spot where he had met Bigfoot.

As for us, we packed up and joined the holiday traffic back to Utah. The smoke was thicker on Monday, and I was really happy that we'd had a few clear days in Wyoming.

go to the Lake Louise gallery

For the 4th of July, I went looking for a place that wasn't in “extreme” or “exceptional” drought status and which hadn't burned over in the last few years. Those places are getting harder and harder to find — 98.2% of Utah is at those drought levels. I noticed that parts of southwestern Wyoming were only at “moderate” or “severe” levels, although they had experienced a few big wildfires. Digging deeper, I found that the high point of the Salt River Range, Mount Fitzpatrick (10,907 ft), hadn't burned, and photos of it looked very attractive. Even better, the trailhead was 41 miles from pavement and there was a fighting chance that we could get a campsite. I put a trip on the calendar.

I took Friday as a vacation day so that I could leave early. I hooked up with Michelle in Wanship, and we caravaned into Wyoming, me in my 4Runner and Michelle in her Subaru pulling a teardrop trailer. The road in La Barge Creek was in reasonable shape except for a churned-up section near a ranch. We stopped for lunch at the Tri Basin Divide, marked by a sign that helpfully points in the directions of the three basins — south to La Barge Creek (Green River), north to the Greys River (Snake River) and west to the Smiths Fork River (Bear River). The three drainages don't quite meet; the Smiths Fork River headwaters are a mile or so away from the divide, but it's still pretty cool. The head of La Barge Creek was especially nice, with a vast carpet of yellow flowers.

The Greys River road drops through a very nice gorge before emerging into a big wooded valley. We could see wildfire scars on the east side of the road, but the west side was very green. We managed to claim a campsite less than a mile from the trailhead, with unburned trees and access to the river. Stanley, Paula and Craig all showed up before dark; what more could I ask for?

I was concerned about the possibility of monsoon rains on Saturday afternoon, so I twisted arms and got the crew to the Crow Creek trailhead by 7:30 AM. The grass was wet from dew as we set off. We crossed a footbridge over the Greys River and started up the trail into the Crow Creek valley, where we quickly ran into a problem. Crow Creek was running high and the trail wanted to ford it; could we avoid the ford? Yes we could, with a little bushwhacking and ingenuity involving streamside willows and a semi-floating log. After picking up the trail again, we walked through meadow after meadow full of flowers.

Mt Fitzpatrick seemed to sneak up on us. We came out of some woods and there was a massive cliff ahead. In fact, the cliff was so big it actually lifted Crow Creek up a hundred-foot step, blocking the valley with a cliff band. (I looked at a geological map later and found that a fault line runs along the base of this cliff; the mountains must be rising quickly, in mountain-rising terms.)

Near the foot of the cliff, we ran into the Way Trail, which runs north and south along the east side of the Salt River Range. We went north, climbing fairly steeply toward the north edge of the valley. The cliffs continued and access didn't look very promising, but we found a faint fork just a hundred yards or so before the crest. While we were checking it out, four dirt-bikers came across the crest of the trail and down past us — apparently this pristine-looking area is not wilderness.

We followed the side fork toward the cliff band, where it came to a weak spot and switchbacked steeply to a bench above the cliffs. The trail then traversed south into the middle of the hanging valley, where we found the first of the Crow Creek Lakes.

We took a snack break near the outlet of the lake. It's a very pretty lake, with deep blue water below striated gray cliffs. Snow patches came down to the water line. Craig joked that there was a dam at the outlet, and that's actually what it looked like — there was a bedrock shelf that the outlet had to cross.

It took a little while, but with some collaborative effort, we located a use trail a couple hundred feet above this first lake that headed west to the second lake. The trail faded in and out, but we were able to track it through the gorgeous upper basin. The upper lake had bathtub rings that indicated that the lake level was much higher earlier, but it was still a substantial lake. Huge rock glaciers came down to the lake from the south slope. To the west, we could see a pink-orange cliff band on the summit block. The summit approach looked moderately obnoxious: about 1300 ft of slogging up a steep talus pile to the ridge and on to the hidden peak.

We stopped for lunch at the foot of this final ascent. I studied the route and had the bad feeling that the numbers were not working out for a summit day. It was already after noon, and I figured that we had an hour and a half or two hours to the summit, then at least an hour back down, and then three and a half or four hours back to the trailhead. That could get us back down as late as 7 PM, and I could already see black clouds starting to collect in our neighborhood. Reluctantly, I decided that we should turn around and head back down.

Michelle's car thermometer read 85 degrees F on the ride back to camp. That was about 10 degrees higher than the forecasted high, and we were sweaty. Fortunately Michelle had scouted out a nice gravel bar on the near shore of the Greys River about a hundred yards from camp. We all trooped down there and took a dip. Very nice!

go to the Mt Fitzpatrick gallery

When I was looking at places to go hiking around the Greys River, I was a bit leery of hiking in the Wyoming Range because it looked like it had been badly damaged by two big fires (the Marten Creek fire in 2018 and the Fontenelle fire in 2012). It turns out that that a section between Wyoming Peak in the south and Box Canyon in the north was mostly spared from the fires. (Note that Google Maps' satellite view doesn't appear to show the more recent fire.) Box Canyon sounded pretty, so I picked it for Sunday's hike.

The trail stays mostly on the north side of the creek. The lower section goes up and down, alternating between thick streamside forest and dry meadowy slopes. There are a few sections where the trail cuts across huge rock glaciers. The slopes have cliffs, hoodoos and giant avalanche scars. At the junction between the north and south forks of the creek, the trail crosses the north fork and switchbacks steeply up the east wall, before cutting back to the north to reach the north fork again. We got glimpses of waterfalls and cascades in both forks, and the cliff bands came in pretty shades of pink, orange and purple.

Paula led the way into the headwaters of the north fork. We tramped through a flower-filled meadow to a lone signpost next to a lovely blue pond. The pond is the source of the north fork of Box Canyon Creek, and the sign points out the intersection with the Wyoming National Recreation Trail.

We took a snack break here and debated our next move. We agreed that the southbound stretch of the Wyoming Trail looked steep and snowy, while the northbound trail looked relatively gentle. We went north. At the crest of the ridge, we wondered whether we could beat the monsoon to the nearest bump on the main ridge, Peak 10590. The peak was only a mile or so away and the terrain looked pretty gentle, so we went for it.

It was pretty easy. We had to avoid a few lingering patches of slushy snow, but it wasn't much of a challenge. The clouds were developing more slowly than on Saturday, which was a relief. We dropped packs on the summit and enjoyed the view while eating lunch.

Box Canyon was a yawning gulf at our feet. We could see the big waterfall in the south fork, as well as the huge rock glaciers that fill its upper reaches. Further to the south, we could see the summit block of Coffin Peak. (I think you can just make out the pointy tip of Wyoming Peak in the photo that I took.) To the west, I was impressed by the spectacular wall of the high Salt River Range. It's spiky and cliffy and striped. The peaks in the Wyoming Range to the north seemed rounded and peaceful by contrast. Further to the north we could make out the Tetons, and off to the east was the shadow of the Wind Rivers. It was very nice to get on top of a peak after Saturday's disappointment.

We bathed in the river again in the late afternoon. That night, a very mild rainstorm drifted through. It wetted the roads, but the drive out on Monday wasn't particularly difficult. I was gobsmacked once again by the amazing flowers. All in all, a very fine trip with fine company!

go to the Box Canyon gallery

In 2021, I decided to celebrate Memorial Day by organizing a trip for the WMC to the Vermillion Castle area near Brian Head. Now that my friends and I are vaccinated, it seemed like a good time to celebrate by heading back into the woods for a long weekend.

I was last in the area in 2014. The scenery has changed after the Brian Head fire. The Castle area wasn't burned, but the east and south ends of the Yankee Meadow area were torched. The official Forest Service campground was burned over; one tree was left standing. Fortunately, there were still some sites at the “dispersed camping” area that didn't burn, and our group managed to grab the last two available sites on Thursday afternoon.

I had planned a mix of familiar and exploratory hiking for the weekend. Some of the hikes worked out and some didn't, but the weather was pleasant and the scenery was grand.

Those of us who had arrived early went to Brian Head and Cedar Breaks on Friday morning. To my amazement, Cedar Breaks was mostly open, with rangers on duty and the visitor center gift shop open. Only a few scattered traces of snow were still holding out. The drought and the heat this year have been impressive. We took a short hike on the Sunset Trail so that folks who hadn't been to Cedar Breaks before could get a taste of the scenery — Bryce-ish pink and red hoodoos clinging to cliffs at 10,000 ft.

We went back to camp and found that more people had arrived. I was impressed at the big shade canopies (three of them) and the giant tents; no slumming in backpacking tents for us! I thought that it was a fine afternoon to hike the Noah's Ark trail, which I had done once back in 2014, so we piled into our vehicles and carpooled down to the Five Mile picnic area. The Forest Service has made improvements here — the washed out crossing over Bowery Creek has been repaired, and the trail has been brushed out and the tread improved. We hiked up to the overlook through the colorful conglomerate cliff bands. There is lots of scenery there, with a fine view over to the Grand Castle, my destination for Saturday.

Happy hour back at camp was pretty swanky. I think Michele and Simon won the contest with cheese and champagne, but everyone did well. Shasta the dog got to chase lots of sticks.

go to the Noah's Ark gallery

My goal for Saturday was to hike into Dry Canyon, the “zeroth” left-hand fork of Parowan Canyon, and then cross back south into First Left Hand Fork Canyon while taking in the Grand Castle, the high point of the Vermillion Castle complex. All exploratory and mostly off trail, of course — the best way. I optimistically parked my 4Runner as a shuttle vehicle on the First Left Hand Fork road at the foot of the Grand Castle.

We navigated our way up an old logging road to a dry lake, then bushwhacked westward to drop into the head of Dry Canyon. The brush and deadfall on the slope actually weren't very difficult, and we found big chunks of agate on our way down into the canyon bottom.

The deadfall got a bit more obnoxious as we headed downstream, but the scenery was very nice. We were in a beautiful, park-like forest of ponderosas and aspen and white firs, with red and pink spires of rock poking up everywhere. We took a break at a scenic side canyon, and some of us walked up to see the triple towers about a half mile up.

Then came bad news and worse news. Not far below the side canyon, the main canyon was blocked by a pour-off. I had scrutinized the Google satellite photos for obstacles like this, but I missed it. I didn't see an obviously safe way around the pour-off for our large group, and I didn't want to waste a lot of time searching for a route, so I sent our group up the ridge to the south. It was a slow, steep slog up a pile of loose crap.

That's we had the worse news. Someone dislodged a rock high on the slope, and it bounced down and hit Cheryl's right knee. Cheryl managed to get above the worst section using sheer willpower. Her knee was bruised and swollen, and it didn't feel stable to her, so we brainstormed ways to wrap it. As it happens, there was a simple solution — Susan had a knee brace in the bottom of her pack (!). We had to take off Cheryl's ankle brace to get the knee brace on, but with Cheryl directing, we got everything in place. Cheryl was then able to put weight on the knee, and we bushwhacked back to the cars.

It was too bad that we had to skip the Grand Castle — it will still be there next time. I was also a bit bummed that we didn't get to see the middle section of Dry Canyon, which looked spectacular from a distance. I drove up the Dry Canyon road on Monday on my way out, and reached a KEEP OUT sign just as the scenery was getting good. Apparently there is a sand mine on a state township section that has exclusive access to the middle part of Dry Canyon. It's typical that one of the most striking parts of the Vermillion Castle area is off limits due to state-subsidized resource extraction.

go to the Dry Canyon gallery

I had another semi-insane cross-country exploratory hike on tap for Sunday. We started at Yankee Meadow Reservoir with the goal of dropping into Second Left Hand Fork Canyon and coming out in First Left Hand Fork Canyon. Remarkably, this hike actually worked out.

We had some trouble at the start. I wanted us to climb a low hill through burned aspen southwest of the reservoir, then drop down a steep slope to the dirt road, which I had heard was closed due to damage from fires. I had bad luck on two counts — the burned slope is saturated with water and is glacially slipping into Second Left Hand Fork, and the road had been reopened to traffic.

I had wanted to investigate a side canyon off of the Second Left Hand Fork road that seemed to hold a big red amphitheater of hoodoos. That part worked out spectacularly. The canyon is pristine, barely touched by the fire and untouched by roads or trails, and it's walkable for long distances. We had lunch in one of the deep recesses, under red pinnacles. It's another bit of Utah scenery that would be protected in a park in any other state.

Then it was back to the road and downstream to the next substantial side canyon. I wanted to take this canyon up to a saddle on the east side of Henderson Hill, where we would meet the official Henderson Canyon trail and hike down to the shuttle vehicle. The area was gorgeous, but the route was dicey. There was a fair amount of deadfall along the dry stream bed. After a while, the stream entered a red rock gorge and got narrow. It was very pretty but it made me concerned that we might get blocked by a pour-off.

And indeed, there was an overhung pour-off at the point where the stream zig-zagged out of the red rock into a wider canyon. We plugged along in the red rock gorge, and we lucked out by finding a relatively easy route over the divide and back down into the main fork. When we got to the saddle, the view south toward Brian Head was very cool. We picked up a use trail below the saddle and followed it over the top, where it led to Henderson Spring and turned into the official Henderson Canyon trail. The rest of the way down was a piece of cake, on generally good trail through forest that was mostly green and had patches that appeared to have burned before the Brian Head fire.

We had another great happy-hour and postprandial discussion, then went to bed. We all got up early to head home before the holiday traffic became brutal.

go to the Second Left Hand Fork gallery