Return to Cedar Mesa, Highway 95, Utah

About 2 miles south of the intersection of Highways 95 and 276 (the latter which goes south to the Bullfrog Marina) are four slot canyons known collectively as the Irish Canyons. They are, from north to south, Lucky Charms, Shillelagh, Blarney and Leprechaun. We set up camp just south of Leprechaun in a BLM area at the foot of another, but much more technical canyon, Sandthrax Canyon (sounds ominous, doesn't it?). One day of rain for us produces more snow on the Henry Mountains to our northwest. Beautiful, isn't it?

Blarney Canyon

Okay, Blarney is just a super fun canyon to explore - no blarney! We actually hike this canyon before we even know which one it was. We just see cars parked here all the time and decide to explore. Most people do the canyon top down - they are usually real climbers and they rappel down the drops which are waterfalls when water is running. These folks are called canyoneers. We do not consider ourselves canyoneers as we don't carry the gear - helmets, harness, carabiners, etc. and we don't rappel or do any of the other "technical" stuff. We do carry a rope, just in case we get stuck, but we've never used it. But this day, we become canyoneers. No rappelling, but we do have to do some stemming, or chimneying, to climb up and over chokestones. I know this doesn't look high, but some of the obstacles we have to climb up are over my head.

Me in the middle of chokestones! This is a bit trickier. We have to crawl under the boulder right behind me, pop up in this small hole, then climb over the rest of the boulders. Going back down was even more fun.

It's about one mile to this dryfall with a rope hanging. Brad actually gets almost half way up, but we are just being silly as we have no intention of actually climbing this. It would be almost impossible anyway. This is what clues me into the fact the true canyoneers start at the top and come down the canyon.

No photo here, I just want to explain what constitutes a very bad day for me. Before we do Leprechaun Canyon, we decide to hike Butler Canyon just a couple of miles down the road. Now, remember I said how rainy it's been this summer and fall in Utah? Well these canyons are still a bit wet, which isn't too much of a problem as most creeks are only a few inches deep if they're running at all. As we start hiking up the canyon from the highway, fallen trees and debris carried downstream by flood waters block our path everywhere, and we have to scramble over and around them. As we get deeper into the canyon where the walls close in a bit and are forced to walk in the creek, which is flowing, we discover quicksand frequently. We're walking on solid sand one minute and in the next step our feet sink several inches. Quicksand can be common here because of the sand/clay mixture, and once it's saturated, it becomes quicksand. Twice, my foot is sucked in up to my laces and I get a soaker. After about one hour of inching our way around the quicksand and through the debris, the canyon still has not slotted up as we expected. We turn around and head back, realizing that this year is too wet to be exploring some of these canyons, especially this one. After lunch back at the trailer, we decide not to waste the rest of this gorgeous day (not a cloud in the sky and about 50F or 10C), so we decide to hike Shillelagh Canyon. Remember my boots are wet inside, so I wear a pair of nice, expensive hiking shoes which I bought about 12 years ago for a trip to the UK with my sisters. I've hardly worn these shoes since. Well, Shillelagh isn't a pleasant bottom-up canyon stroll like Blarney. The bottom of this canyon has a series of dryfalls totalling about 100 feet high. We scale the slickrock (smoothed, sandstone rock) to the side and find what we think is an easy place to drop down into a slot canyon, which turns out to be another dryfall of about 50 feet. So we climb back up the steep slickrock and as we are, the top half of the rubber tread on the bottom of my right shoe rips half off! I cling to the rockface as I start sliding downwards a little. "Turn around and sit on your bum," Brad yells. I do manage to, but now I'm just pissed off. I tear off the rubber tread, but now I'm vulnerable. My shoe is very slippery even on the sandstone (which is like sandpaper), but I manage to make it back up the slope. I'm done. Today is not meant to be. But I still have to climb back down, and as we are doing this, the bottom half on the heel rips too. I yank it off, throw it in my backpack, and finish my climb down. Arrgghh! Get me to tomorrow! But the moral of the story? A bad day hiking in Utah is still better than a good day at work!

Leprechaun Canyon

Looking into the Subway going up-canyon Leprechaun Canyon is described as "the jewel of the Irish Canyons", so we're pretty excited to hike it (going up canyon again). Within a mile of hiking in the creek and pushing our way through willows, we come to the "Subway".

Me, the blue dot in the middle. Looking down-canyon. Just beyond the subway, the canyon slots up forming a straight crack open to the sky above our heads of only about one foot wide. Unfortunately, on the ground, a deep, slippery clay bottom pool blocks our path. The water is ice cold and the temperature inside the canyon is probably just above freezing (we're actually wearing fleece jackets and gloves), so wading through barefoot is not an option. Again, the wet season has struck us down. But that's okay; it just means we have so much to look forward to next time.

Comb Wash and Comb Ridge

We move about 80 miles southeast on Highway 95 to a campsite in Comb Wash under Comb Ridge, which is one of three major monoclines in Utah, the other two being the Waterpocket Fold in Capitol Reef National Park and the Cockscomb near Kanab.

Comb Ridge spans about 100 miles from north to south, with deep cuts for the highway here and further south on Highway 163. The white dot in the valley (far left, half-way up the photo) is our trailer.

Mule Canyon and House on Fire

Creek-cracking! Cedar Mesa has numerous ancient Indian ruins. One of the most beautiful and popular is a granary known as House on Fire. At about 6,000 feet, Cedar Mesa is cold, and there IS snow on the ground and ice in the creek.

You can see how House on Fire gets its name. Okay, okay, I played with this one to really make it look like it's on fire!

A short one-mile hike in Mule Canyon takes us to this magnificent structure under the overhanging cliffs. The rock ceiling has eroded away in striped chunks, leaving the different coloured sandstone layers revealed.

The end of the overhang.

Besides the snow on the nearby Abajo (a-BAH-ho) Mountains, there is a dusting of snow on the ground on top of Cedar Mesa. Luckily, we are camped in the valley, but it's still very cold at night, down to 25F (-4C?), although thanks to the beautiful sun, daytime temps are around 55F (about 12C) which is very comfortable for hiking with such dry air. So our plan is to head to lower elevations, making our next stop in Page, Arizona to stock up on supplies (we haven't been near a Walmart in over 6 weeks!!!) before going to St. George, Utah where temps are about 20F warmer. It'll be like the tropics! An aside ... We asked a maintenance guy at the Glen Canyon Rec Area at Bullfrog where they go for groceries, and he said Grand Junction, which is 3 hours away in Colorado! Six hours of driving to get groceries? Wow! We really are in the boonies!

Cedar Mesa, Utah

Cedar Mesa is an area in south-eastern Utah, given its name for the many mesas (hills rising from 200 to 1,500 feet with flat tops) covered with red sand/clay, cedar bushes and pinion pines. It's a large area and encompasses part of Glen Canyon National Monument (Lake Powell), Natural Bridges National Monument, national forests, federal wilderness lands and only a few very small towns - Mexican Hat, Bluff, Blanding and Monticello. A gaze over the landscape registers mostly red and green; the soil is a deep reddish-brown, the sandstone cliffs are a rich reddish-orange, and the cedars are lush and green this year thanks to the heavy rains this summer and fall. White Canyon and Grand Gulch dominate much of the area with their creamy white capstone snaking between the red mesas. Cedar Mesa is also full of ancient native ruins and artifacts. Petroglyphs (drawings on the stone using coloured dyes), pictographs (drawings chiseled or picked into the stone) and crumbling dwellings can be found in numerous locations along the many creeks and rivers, which all end in the Colorado River or Lake Powell.

We camp for nearly 2 weeks on Jacob's Chair Road just off Highway 95 between Hite (now a dry, unused Lake Powell marina) and Natural Bridges National Monument. Our visiting resident geologist, Dolores, is still with us these first few days, although the weather is not cooperative during her stay here at this location with us before she drives the 2,000 miles back home.

Along Scenic Highway 95

The drive from Hanksville to Natural Bridges along Highway 95 is a scenic ice cream sundae. We drive past the base of the Henry Mountains with snow-capped peaks over 11,000 feet, through a narrow canyon lined with orange sandstone emerging high above the Hite Marina on Lake Powell (although the lake no longer reaches here due to low water levels), crossing the Dirty Devil and Colorado Rivers, and finally arriving at the vast maze of canyons in Cedar Mesa. In this photo, Brad sits atop the Hite Overlook.

We stop briefly at the Little Egypt Geological Area, with hoodoos similar to Goblin Valley but more colourful.

This cyclist, with whom we chatted a bit at a highway turnout, began his journey on May 24th in New York City. He is cycling across America! Why? No reason, he just needed a break. He has no set plan, just riding lesser highways through interesting places, stopping when he's tired. He's heading to California, where his journey will end. We think of him often in the weeks to come, wondering where he is now.

Jacob's Chair and White Canyon

The day after we set up camp along White Canyon at a dispersed campsite on Jacob's Chair Road, it rains heavily upstream (probably at Natural Bridges with its higher elevation of 6,000 feet). The stream in the canyon is merely trickling when we arrive on Monday, and by Tuesday afternoon has risen several feet. Jacob's Chair Road, which crosses the stream just behind me, is now invisible and impassible. I wouldn't want to be stranded on the other side. This is a flash flood, although here the canyon is wide enough to handle the water easily enough. By the time Brad and I leave this campsite a week and a half later, the stream is dry, and we realize we haven't heard it running for several days.

Where a canyon narrows to a mere foot or two wide, as seen here where White Canyon passes under Highway 95, the water can rise 10 to 30 feet in just a few minutes. This is why we stay out of slot canyons and canyon narrows when rain is forecast. Roads are impassible too as the red sand is mixed with clay and quickly fills the treads in any tire, shoe or boot, preventing any form of travel. (See me in the top right?)

Brad, Dolores and I enjoying an early evening fire at our campsite on Jacob's Chair Road. The rock formation, known as Jacob's Chair, is in the background, top left.

What's particularly interesting about the top of White Canyon is these petrified trees still embedded in the rock. Many of them are filled with large quartz crystals like this one. Yes, I've super-enhanced this photo to distinguish the lichen and other organisms growing on the rock. That's the toe of my boot at the bottom so you can get a size perspective.

Another thing we see in the southwest a lot is this cryptobiotic soil. Fungi and other organisms grow on top of the soil, usually in blackened peaks as seen here. State and National Park brochures warn against treading on this soil as it grows very slowly and is important for plant regeneration.

Natural Bridges National Monument

Natural bridges are similar to arches except that they form differently. Bridges form by rivers or streams eroding the stone at the base until the bottom and middle collapse leaving only the top layer connected by walls of stone on each side. Arches are formed by freeze and thaw, with water infiltrating cracks and expanding them, causing the stone to crumble and eventually collapse leaving an arch. From the loop drive, we look down at all three bridges, so Brad and I hike down into the canyon to see them from below. Here I'm looking straight up at the first bridge, Sipapu (see-PAH-poo). Note the jet stream.

We arrive at the second bridge, Kachina (ka-CHEE-nah) after hiking about 3.5 miles through the canyon bottom. The cottonwood trees are full of colour, and the smell of the fallen leaves combined with the dampness of the stream reminds us of fall hikes back home.

The third and final bridge, Owachomo (o-WAH-cho-mo). I'm standing under the bridge, in the middle of the dry stream bed.

Muley Point and Valley of the Gods

A driving day takes us south of Highway 95 to Muley Point where we check out possible camping locations (and we do find a nice one). Here we are at the top of Cedar Mesa and Muley Point, looking down about 1,200 feet to the valley below, although it is still some 1,000 feet further down to the meandering San Juan River. From Muley Point, we can see the infamous landmark "W" formation of Monument Valley in the distance to the southwest (top right), perhaps 50 miles away as the crow flies.

The only way down are the switchbacks of the Moki Dugway, where pioneers dug a single track for their uphill wagon wheels to prevent sliding off the steep slope. Today, it is a good dirt road driven easily by vehicles, but not large RVs, especially pulling a trailer.

At the bottom of the Dugway is Valley of the Gods, and for the first time (we have been here before in 2009, pre-retirement and pre-blog), we drive the 17-mile loop road that winds through the rock formations.

Don't worry.  They'll buff right out! A phenomenon called "Texas pinstripes", and it's what happens when you drive narrow 4x4 roads through desert bushes. I'm glad we don't have a dually. We have many scratches and dents from driving these southwestern "roads" and now consider them to be badges of honour, a testament to the crazy things we do. I'm proud to point to the dented step rail and claim "That's mine, from 2012 on the Callville Wash Road in Lake Mead National Rec Area."

Fry Canyon

Fry Canyon is just a few miles east on Highway 95 from our campsite. We would have driven past it every time we traveled up and down this highway had it not been for an RV friend who told us it's his favourite canyon in Utah. So we set off one day to hike it. Surprisingly, it's a little slot canyon right under the highway, although because of the season's rains, it's full of water and not hike-able today. So we follow it along the top south towards the high mesas and are immediately rewarded with beautifully coloured and striated canyon walls.

The canyon quickly forks into two; we follow the right fork but the canyon simply opens up into the typical sandy wash and cedar bushes. We retreat and follow the left fork which again narrows and forces us to do a bit of scrambling until we finally reach at 12-foot dryfall which is impassible due to deep water pooled at the top.

Since the day is still young (it's not even lunch-time!), we drive up the dirt road from the Fry Canyon Lodge (now abandoned) to the high mesa. We climb up about 1,000 feet above the valley floor with incredible views of Cedar Mesa to the north, east and west. We attempt to take a loop 4x4 road around the formation known as Tables of the Sun, and it is soon after turning onto this side road that we discover not only exceptional views facing west, but petrified wood eroding out of the bentonite clay mounds. Hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces litter the ground. We can't walk without stepping on fragments. Some of the pieces are beautiful, with gold, brown, black and white colouring. Unfortunately, the road deteriorates half-way around, and we don't find the right 4x4 track to lead us around the loop, but instead find ourselves heading back down the mesa towards the highway. And this road, different from the one we drove up, has been washed out recently in several places so we have to strategically place flat rocks to rebuild sections so the truck doesn't hit bottom and destroy the transmission oil pan. Don't you think Brad should be building the road and I should be taking pictures? It takes us one hour to cover a mere 3 miles of this road, but make it down safely we do, and home to our hungry kitty. Yet another Gris adventure successfully completed.