Land of the Hoodoos: Bryce Canyon

A place for contemplation

We’d hiked the Grand Canyon, and marveled.  We’d clamored over Zion’s red sandstone, and were amazed (and scared).  What could beat that?

Fascinated by Fairyland

Hoodoos.  Hoodoos could beat that. 

What are hoodoos, and where did they come from?

We drove into Bryce Canyon as it was beginning to snow.  SNOW???  We’d just been slathering on sunscreen so as not to burn up.  But Bryce Canyon (not really a canyon, but a cliff structure known as an amphitheater) is another 3000 feet above Zion’s river basin, and suddenly it was cold again at 7700 feet of altitude.

Window arch to the Escalante Grand Staircase

Dramatic formations

We got there in the evening, with the snow sputtering on and off.   We had just enough light to walk from Sunset to Sunrise point—and there were the hoodoos.  Thousands of them, all silently looking down into the canyon, in pinks and reds and beiges, a whole city of them.

Hoodoo city

The Paiute legend says that there was a city here once.  The people started behaving badly, and Coyote was very unhappy.  To teach them a lesson, he changed them all to stone, whatever they were doing—walking, standing, talking, sitting.  The stone city remains.

Hoodoos as far as the eye can see

Hoodoo is a perfect name for these rock formations.  The origin of the name varies, but most agree that it comes from a word that means something like “scary.”  And they are certainly mysterious, their forms appearing around the bends of trails winding through the various amphitheaters of this ancient fault-and cliff-line. 

Hoodoos watching over you

A hoodoo is a spire or pinnacle that is topped by a harder stone.  Formed not from water erosion but more a combination of freezing and thawing, the softer stone underneath the capstone layer cracks and layers, first into fins, then hoodoos, then spires, and finally succumbing to complete collapse. 

Hoodoos before a storm

The landscape is quite active; every year some hoodoos collapse, and others are formed, in the thousands that lurk in these magical places.

Hoodoos on the upslope

With rain threatening to pour down out of a dark sky, my family turned back to the RV, while I continued on a trail through a part of the hoodoos dubbed “Fairyland.” 

Splitting up--they turned back, I went on the 6-mile hike

The magic is impossible to capture in pictures, although I tried.  I stopped and gaped around just about every turn at the impossibly beautiful colors and formations.  The sky blackened and threatened to destroy my iPhone, but the rain held off until I pulled into the RV campground on my bike.

The winding Fairyland trail

The next day we drove to Rainbow Point, where we walked through lingering snow to see the 1500-year-old Bristlecone pines.  It snowed through the sunshine intermittently, and the 9000-foot elevation felt brisk.  I was sorry we didn’t have time to walk the Under The Rim trail to see the hoodoos from a different vantage point.  But—the leitmotif of our trip—we had to move on.

A Bristlecone Pine barely hangs on--for centuries!

The amphitheater is full of stone people

On our way north to Arches and Canyonlands we drove through Capitol Reef National Park, a beautiful 100-mile-long waterpocket fold whose name derives from a huge sandstone formation resembling the nation’s capitol building, and the “reefs” or barriers encountered by early settlers which were created by this split-valley formation.  

It sorta does look like the Capitol Building, in a sandstone kind of way

Driving into the campground, only to find no vacancy

We again didn’t have enough time to enjoy the beautiful fruit orchards and cottonwood shade of the valley settled by Mormon homesteaders of early last century, and we drove past the huge formations, auto-touring the park.  We had to move on.  The last two big parks, Arches and Canyonlands, were calling to us. 

Bye bye, Capitol Reef  We'll have to plan better next time!

Zion Canyon, AKA Mukuntuweap Canyon, “Land of Straight Up”

Indian Paintbrush, one of the many wildflowers in bloom

Sasha finds a convenient sandstone seat

Utah has the Fabulous Five National Parks:  Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, Arches, and Canyonlands.  Zion was first on our list, after an uneventful night at the RV Corral and Sasha’s pick of Pizza Hut for dinner.  An all-Native-American baseball team, complete with cheerleaders, arrived and scotched our dessert order of a chocolate chip cookie pizza.  But the pepperoni pizza was good!

Working off the pizza on Zion's trails

We arrived into Zion Canyon early the next morning, coming through the narrow eastern entrance and through the mile-long tunnel.  The original native name for the canyon was "Mukuntuweap," meaning, "Land of Straight Up."  The red sandstone cliffs rose above us, living up to its native name, as well as its nickname, “Yosemite With Color.” 

Glorious color

Because we got there early, we scored the second-to-last campsite at South Campground, a lovely spread amongst the cottonwoods next to the Virgin River.  The Virgin was running too high for us to walk the most famous hike, up the Narrows, a slot canyon carved by eons of water where you hike in the river itself, in water-hiking-boots. 

Todd loves the sandstone

But there were plenty of other exciting hikes.  We spent the afternoon on the River Walk, gaping at the canyon and enjoying the river, especially after our monumental Grand Canyon hike with no river achieved. 

Loving the water all around us

We then hiked up to Hidden Canyon.  Todd saw the path along the sloping red cliffs, with chains to hang onto so that you didn’t slide to your death.  He balked.  “Someone fell off of one of these chains and died just last month.  I saw the YouTube video,”  he told me.  And so I acquiesced, much to the annoyance of Tia and Sasha. 

Off-limits Hidden Canyon

Angel’s Landing is perhaps the most famous and certainly the most dangerous and deadly hike in Zion—nine deaths since 2004.  Leaving at 5:45 am, we rode our bikes to the trailhead and had the zigzaggy path all to ourselves.  We hiked the famous switchbacks named “Walter’s Wiggles” to get to Scout’s Landing, which was scary enough.  A narrow sandstone-slanted, again with chains, led up to the angel part. 

Looking down on the Wiggles

They are impressively steep.  And this is the easy part!

Apparently, just before the top, you hike across a narrow ledge with immense drops on either side, assisted by a chain to hold onto for dear life.  We demurred, along with a guy we met who has tried to make the climb eight times before.  He cannot get himself across that ledge. 

The scariest hike to the top

But there were plenty of other incredibly beautiful hikes.  We hiked over to Emerald Pools and marveled at the waterfall; much of the water coming out of the sandstone actually travels through the more porous layers of the cliffs until it meets a more densely-packed layer.  Then it travels to the cliff edge and pours out, seemingly out of nowhere.  Weeping Rock was a lovely example of such a phenomenon. 

That's me at the bottom of the falls

Sasha performs

That evening we went up the Watchman Trail, which overlooks the campgrounds. 

From the top of The Watchman

The shuttle service keeps Zion effectively free of cars and was a delight, winding through peaks with biblical names such as Isaac, Jacob, and Abraham, the three Patriarchs.  We used it the following morning, catching the first shuttle out at 7 am for Observation Point, another 200 meters above Angel’s Landing.  You look down at the valley floor, the Virgin River snaking through it, surrounded by the reds and yellows and whites of the vertical cliffs.  Again, we had the trail to ourselves.

Echo Canyon heading to Observation Point

Overlooking Angel's Landing 

A chipmunk appeared as we ate our sandwich breakfast, then another, then another.  It’s a $100 fine to feed them, but Sasha could not resist.  In seconds we were surrounded by six little guys, each one more daring than the next. 

Please feeeeeeeeed me!!

The trail passed through Echo Canyon, a beautiful little slot canyon filled with water at the very bottom.  

Tia checks out the layers

In fhe narrows

We arrived back at our faithful RV “Karl,” not finished with all the beauty of this canyon, but looking forward to the next adventure:  Bryce Canyon.

Group selfie on Observation Point

Tia gazes down the slot to the bottom of Echo Canyon

Love in the Canyon

You Must See It Once In Your Life: The Grand Canyon

I had been to the Grand Canyon once many years ago, driving cross-country from Annapolis, Maryland, with my friend Julie after graduating from college.  All I remember is sitting at the rim, gazing at the immensity of it for several hours.

Now it's Tia contemplating the vast age of the Earth

This time, however, I wanted to really experience it.  Imagine my disappointment when at every trailhead, there were warning signs:  DO NOT TRY TO WALK TO THE RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY.  That was exactly what I had been planning to do, to put my foot in the powerful Colorado River.  “This is Victor,”  one sign proclaimed.  Victor was a 20-something male, sunburnt and on his hands and knees, barfing a pool of yellow liquid.  “Victor tried to walk to the river and back without sunscreen, no hat, one small bottle of water, and no good plan.”  Tia and Sasha thought this was hilarious.  “Don’t be like Victor!” became our motto. 

Trying not to be like Victor

So the first day we played it safe and walked the South Rim after scoring a campsite at South Campground, gazing down and across the depths with the hoards of tourists—six million of them per year—also strolling the concrete pathways.  I had Tia and Sasha read every placard we came across (this was school, after all), and we learned a lot in the visitor’s museum, about the Vishnu basement rocks down by the river (how I yearned to see them up close!), the Supergroups slanting into the sides, and the various sedimentary layers providing the glorious reds, yellows, whites, and greys of the canyon’s sides. 

These are just the top layers

The next day I trotted my family off on our bikes to the South Kaibab Trail.  It was a mere six-mile hike down to the river one way, but Tia continually reminded me about Victor, and so we stopped at Skeleton Point, three miles down the trail.  Sasha was happy to turn around, and I looked longingly at the water.  Back up the trail we went, not wanting to be like Victor.  That afternoon we traveled the western part of the South Rim on the shuttle bus, watching the sun set and ogling the elk that ambled by.

Sunset on the South Rim

Elk, elk everywhere

On the third day there was a full family rebellion.  I wanted to hike the Bright Angel Trail to the river, but no one else did.  So I compromised and got up at 5:30 am to make the 9-mile round trip to Indian Gardens.  I was tempted to go all the way to the river, an additional 6 miles, but was glad I didn’t. 

Early morning down the Bright Angel Trail

The trails are all steep and lots of switchbacks...going down is the easy part!

Hiking in the pure morning air was glorious.  I had the trail all to myself, and I had to admit that the Bright Angel Trail, although the most heavily traveled, was also the most beautiful.  I passed right under the huge layers of sandstone cliffs, seeing the canyon up close and personal while I could gaze across the canyon to the same sights a mile away. 

The rising sun lit up the canyon's layers

HUGE white and beige cliffs of sandstone

The trail was also green and shaded, very different from the Kaibab trail.  Cottonwoods grew in the streams of Indian Garden, and deer grazed in the campground.  I made it down and back in less than four hours. 

It was so green, and the cottonwoods were in full leaf, spring green

Deer were like little lawn ornaments everywhere

On the trail back up, Indian Gardens a green blip in the bottom of the canyon

Todd and the girls had packed up, and we left for Desert View, the campground in the eastern part of the South Rim, 26 miles away.  I had a secret plan—a park ranger had shown me the Tanner Trail, a mere 6 miles from rim to river, and I’d convinced my family to try it.  We packed Gatorade and water, made sandwiches, included trail mix and nuts, ample sunscreen, head coverings, everything we could think of to not be like Victor.

Heading down Tanner Trail at 6 am

We left at 5:45 am, bright and early, the sun just starting to hit the walls of the canyon.  Imagine my chagrin when the trail head said, “9 miles to the river.  THIS IS NOT A DAY HIKE.”  But down we went, deciding to play it by ear and see how far we got. 

My go-getter family

Three miles was easy, even though the trail was rough and rocky.  At five mile we paused.  “C’mon,” I said.  “Look, the river is not that far.”  “That’s how it always goes,” said Todd, “that’s what got Victor.”  But on we went, through piñon pines and junipers, the air warming, the flora changing from high desert forest to scrub to cactus and sparse grass.  We traveled through the layers, the pink cactus flowers just beginning to bloom.

In just a week, this valley would be a carpet of pink blossoms

At mile seven, we paused.  “Just to that ridge,”  I said.  Todd was silent.  Tia and Sasha were game.  On we went to mile eight.  There was the river, beautiful, flowing, the Tanner Rapids beckoning.  But it was clearly another hour’s hike.  We had been hiking for four hours nearly continually, and that was the easy part, downhill.  We’d been warned that the last hour up, scrabbling up the steep walls, was what got people in trouble. 

Gatorade was essential to success

The river beckons in the distance

“If my sister were here, we’d go to the river,” I thought.  But I was tired, Tia and Sasha were tired, Todd was tired.  It was getting hot, at 9:45 am, and the lower we went, the hotter it got.  And so with a last longing look at the river, we turned around.  “Good decision,” was all Todd said.  “We don’t want to be like Victor,” Tia joked. 

Finding some shade on the way back up

We hiked two hours back up the meandering trail, passing through the steep Red Wall section before stopping for lunch. 

Hunger is the best seasoning

And then the final power push back up the trail, zig-zagging up the steep and shifting wall of Tanner Canyon, to pop out the top by 2:30 pm.  I was impressed: Tia and Sasha had managed 16 miles of intense hiking in 8 hours! 

The Tanner Trail is STEEP

And so we climbed back into our trusty RV (that the girls had dubbed Karl), exhausted but satisfied, and headed off for Zion National Park.  The Colorado River would have to wait for another time.  But looking back on that magnificent canyon, a lump caught in my throat.  There are no words sufficient to describe its beauty.  “Yes, there are,”  argued Sasha.  “It’s ‘BIG.’”

Indescribably gorgeous--you just can't capture it in pictures