March 8th, 2022
by Sam the Other Bean
Of course Kes and I were bummed to be leaving Nevada, but looking ahead it was hard to feel down. Yes, we were leaving one of our favorite places, but in exchange we were heading to all of Utah’s Five Mighty National Parks, plus a bunch a stops in between. How could we be sad when we were heading to some of the most talked about parks in the entire country?
Our plan was to hit Utah’s parks from west to east, starting with Zion, then Bryce, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, and topping it all off with Arches. Along the way we had some pretty ambitious goals that included getting a permit for the most exclusive hiking trail in the lower 48, completing a bucket list item in Canyonlands, and getting a second shot at that teardrop rendezvous we missed out on so many weeks ago in Big Bend.
Suffice to say, there was a lot of ground to cover in Utah. So much, in fact, that we’re going to have to split the state up into two posts. This post will cover Zion to Capitol Reef, and next week’s post will cover Canyonlands and Arches. We hope you enjoy these next few posts and our take on the wonderful state of Utah!
Going into Utah, Kes and I knew we were about to experience some of the most beautiful places on planet Earth. Unfortunately, that also meant we were about to give up the solitude we had become so accustomed to in Nevada. So, before entering Zion, we decided to spend one last night soaking up the peace, quiet, and freedom that comes with complete solitude at Ibex Playa, right on the border between Utah and Nevada.
Ibex Playa is one of those places I would have never known about, had I not passed it on one of our previous road trips to Nevada. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of playas to be explored between Nevada and Utah, but Ibex Playa stuck in my memory because it had an island. And if there’s one thing I love more than playas, it’s playas with islands.
I was a little worried driving up to Ibex Playa because, in the winter, playas can be some of the most treacherous places to drive. Mud and clay makes up these usually sun baked surfaces, but in the wet winter even a small amount of rain can turn the solid ground into a soupy death trap. I heard about a guy that tried driving his truck onto a playa in winter and got so stuck that he literally had to abandon the vehicle and wait for summer to go recover it.
This hints at one of the reasons why I love playas so dang much. Of all the places I’ve been to, these flat, dry, and lifeless pockets of clay keep calling me back. I think it’s because playas are some of the most unique places I’ve visited. There’s nothing on them, and that’s the weird part - how many places on Earth are actually void of life? That may be in part be due to the extreme conditions they seem to attract. When the sun is shining, it’s doubled by the white reflective surface. When it’s windy, you better tie down everything you’ve got because if it ain’t tied, it’s blowing away. And when it’s raining, well, you’re not going anywhere.
This time around, luck (and a bit of intelligence) was on our side. The majority of the playa was dry, and avoiding the sticky darker brown wet spots of the playa became a bit of a game. It wasn’t long before we could see where a massive cliff butted up right against the playa. Kes and I looked at each other and, without a word spoken, were in agreement to where we would be camping that night.
Usually playas are surrounded by gently sloping valleys, not cliffs like this.
We found the perfect spot up under a boulder (under being the key word here) that had fallen from the cliff who knows how long ago. I thought it would be funny to scare Kes and park the teardrop almost directly under the overhanging rock ledge, but little did I know that I, too, would lose some sleep that night thinking about all the worst case scenarios.
Would you camp here?
As per the island in the middle of the playa, well, winter wasn’t going to let us have everything. We tried driving up to the island, but as we got closer the playa became more and more soupy under the wheels. Thinking about how tragic it would be to have to abandon the Jeep till summer, I really wasn’t that inclined to push too far. Some things can wait till next time.
We passed this absolutely gigantic pile of tumbleweeds on our way out. In my book, there really is no better omen than this.
We had one more stop to make before setting up camp outside of Zion. After passing up so many In-N-Outs in Arizona and California, I made Kes promise me that we would stop at one before it was too late. Luckily there was one in St. George, just a short detour from our route to Zion.
Say what you will about In-N-Out, they make a mean burger, and you’ll never change my mind about that.
With a happy heart and a full stomach I was finally ready to get to Zion National Park and start the next chapter of our journey.
Zion National Park, Utah
by Sam
Zion was one of the parks I had heard the most about before starting the gap year. It seemed that everybody I knew had been there at some point in their life, and now it was Kes and I’s time to make our own memories there. The only problem was going to be actually getting into the park.
We were visiting in March, which is technically the ‘off-season’ for Zion. This means the shuttles that normally ferry people into the park were only running on the weekends. During weekdays, visitors would have to use their own vehicles for getting into and out of the park. I originally thought getting to drive the Jeep into Zion on our own time would be a perk, but it quickly dawned on me that parking in Zion is very limited, and once parking was full that whole section of Zion would be closed to visitors. So, the notion of ‘on our own time’ soon became ‘hopefully earlier than other people are willing to wake up’.
We had big plans for our first full day at Zion. Goal number one: climb Angel’s Landing, an infamous hike where you have to hold onto chains or risk falling off one of the 1000+ foot cliffs on either side of the ridge. If you make it to the top you’re rewarded with extraordinary views of Zion Valley. This sketchy hike was made even more dangerous by a storm that was moving in right before our visit. Fresh snow and ice were expected, plus freezing temperatures. But none of that was enough to stop us.
That morning we woke up at 4 AM sharp, way earlier than any other day of the trip so far (except for Dry Tortugas). We got to the trailhead around 5:15 AM and managed to snag one of the last spots in the parking lot. It didn’t take us long to gear up and start hiking from there.
The trail followed the river for a short distance, then abruptly turned and started switchbacking straight up the cliff face. For the first half hour we had to rely on flashlights to just see the trail, but slowly the sun lit up the sky, showing us the layers of clouds that were hanging ominously over the valley.
Straight up they go.
It wasn’t long before we made it to the infamous chained section that led up to the summit of Angel’s Landing. Aside from a group that was coming down and a few people that were heading up, we pretty much had the trail to ourselves. I was surprised because I had heard just how much of a zoo this part of the trail could become during the day. I took moment to appreciate the silence, then started the climb up.
The trail follows the ridge up to the top of Angel’s Landing. I couldn’t help but wonder who the first crazy person was to get to the top of this peak.
It turned out there was not nearly as much fresh snow on the trail storm as I was expecting. What new snow there was had already been tamped down by previous hikers that morning. Whether the same would hold true as we got closer to the top was pure speculation. When we saw the hikers in front of us on their way back down, who clearly had not made it to the top, my heart dropped thinking summitting would not be possible.
Talking to them, my biggest fear was confirmed. “Too sketchy, we didn’t want to risk going further” was their reason for not making it to the top. Even so, I wasn’t going to turn around before making it as far up as possible. Plus, Kes and I had a secret weapon hidden up our sleeve: micro spikes.
It wasn’t long before we reached the section the other hikers had told us about. A small section of ice, maybe 10 feet long, with no chains or other way around. If you slipped here there was nothing stopping you from falling all the way down to the valley floor. Luckily, with micro spikes, walking across the ice was no worse than walking across rock. With that obstacle behind us there was nothing stopping us from making it all the way to the top.
When we made it to the top I was stunned not only be the views, but by the fact that we were the only ones there. I guess that ice had done a good job of scaring away almost everybody that morning. So, celebrating our accomplishment, Kes and I whipped out two chocolate bars and watched the sun crest the edge of Zion Valley. The time was 7:30 AM.
Oh Utah, how I love your views.
This was taken facing the other side of Zion Valley.
It's pretty much a straight drop down to the river from the top. Scary, but also great for photos.
I couldn't help but to take a moment to appreciate this lone tree at the top. I'll never understand how the trees living under the harshest conditions also seem to thrive the most.
Our solitude only lasted about 20 minutes before a solid train of people started making their way to the top. It was just as well; I was getting cold and readying myself for the trip down anyways.
The way down was like descending into a different world. The trail had somehow become packed with people during our short time at the top. We now had to wait as packs of people slowly took turns passing each other on the narrow one way trail. The quiet crispness of the morning air was now long gone, replaced by the loud chattering of people from all over the world. It took a lot of patience, careful footing, and a couple uses of the micro spikes, but we finally made it down in one piece.
THIS was what I was expecting on the way up. We were lucky and avoided most traffic till the very bottom. I can only imagine how much more dangerous this hike would be if you were also battling hordes of people on your way up.
Getting back to the car at 9:30 AM was a strange feeling. We had just completed a four hour hike, yet it felt as though the day was just beginning. Even so, a steady stream of cars was flowing through the parking lot, each vulturing over potential spots like a fresh animal carcass. I had other places I wanted to visit in the park, but that hope was promptly squashed by the sheer amount of people that had polluted the park. So, with really nowhere else to go, Kes and I headed back to the teardrop to take a nap and catch up on some work.
Oh, and snow started blowing in big time right when we got back to the car. I was so glad we weren't up top when this was happening.
The next day was Saturday, and as such Kes and I had no desire to go anywhere near Zion. Instead we were going to attempt to get a hiking permit for The Wave for later in the week. We had tried to get a permit months ago in the advanced lottery with no success, leaving us with one last attempt at the daily lottery. The daily lottery required hikers to go to a gymnasium, where a man, who enjoyed his job way too much, would draw numbers, one by one, and determine which applicants would get the hike and which would not.
The Wave is one of the most difficult hikes to get a permit for in the country, and honestly I don’t even know why. For some reason it blew up in popularity several years ago, and since then the number of people trying to do the hike on any single day is well into the thousands. It’s almost as though half the experience of the hike is actually getting the permit itself, and this is why I knew I wouldn’t feel bad even if we didn’t draw.
The doors to the gymnasium opened promptly at 8:30 AM. A flood of applicants swarmed through the doors and around a man yelling instructions. “Every group gets only one application! The last application will be accepted at 9 o’clock! Remember your number!” Had this been any other scenario, I would have rather died, but since this was just for a hike and everybody was here for the fun of it, the atmosphere was actually very light. People joked around, trading stories about what attempt this was for them, while the group of staffers at the front collected a stack of applications between sips of coffee.
Luckily we were one of the first to submit our application, so we didn’t have to wait in this line.
Soon the final application was accepted and it was time for the next stage of the lottery. All the applications were called out to make sure everybody knew their number - I think there were 120 total applicants, meaning there was well over double or triple that amount of people actually in the gymnasium. Then the fun started.
The man in charge slowly started spinning a bingo cage filled with 120 red balls. The first one was selected, and the man fingered the number in his hand. I thought he was just going to call out the number, but I was sorely mistaken. “Hmm, we have a group of three here.” He looked around mischievously, milking the tension in the air. “All the way from New York.” Most people let out a sigh of disappointment, but no one wanted to assume they were the winner. The following silence was almost unbearable. “We’ve got a high number here.” Still silence. “Number… 93!” The gymnasium burst into applause for the lucky winner, and we all looked around for who was going to claim it.
The next eight drawings were just as suspenseful, if not moreso. A group all the way from Japan, then a group that had been there every day for over a week were drawn. With each number drawn Kes and I got less and less optimistic that we were going to be one of the winners, until finally it was over.
The announcer thanked us all for coming, throwing in that this was the last in-person weekend drawing and that the last overall drawing was in a few days. They were moving to a much more efficient online daily lottery that would forever eliminate the need for this type of in person drawing. He sounded sad and nostalgic as he spoke.
As we walked out the doors, it didn’t feel as though we were losers. In fact I actually felt lucky that I was able to experience this quirky little lottery. I mean really, if you think about it, something like this is such a bubble in time. We had just managed to catch that nick in time right after the trail had blown up in popularity, but right before the process was streamlined by moving online. I’m glad I got to experience this very human version of the lottery before it was sterilized forever.
Even though my dream of hiking The Wave was out the window (for now), there was still plenty to experience in the area. In its place we decided to go to the nearby Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park, which is pretty much exactly how it sounds. There we enjoyed walking along sand, looking at rocks, and enjoying a much coveted shower.
There she is, doing what she's best at (taking photos in the weirdest positions possible).
I just love the color of this sand.
I hate how much I look like an astronaut in this photo. Or maybe more like a Martian?
We got back to the Teardrop early and got a good nights rest because Sunday was going to be a very special day. It was Kes’s 23rd birthday!
Kes’s Birthday
by Sam
We’ve learned that life on the road comes with very few special occasions. Mostly we just don’t have enough money to celebrate most holidays. There are three exceptions to this rule: my birthday, our anniversary, and, you guessed it, Kes’s birthday! Today was Kes’s day, and I was going to do everything I could to make sure it was the best day ever.
First on the best day ever todo list: breakfast in bed. After sleeping in a bit, I whipped up a fat stack of pancakes, some eggs, and, best of all, an entire pack of bacon to start off the day.
Like I’ve said, nothing beats breakfast in bed.
After the slow start to the morning Kes wanted to go for a hike, so we made our way to one of Zion’s less travelled trails. I think we were both pleasantly surprised by how few cars there were at the trailhead and how good the views were throughout the hike. Funny how people (myself included) all flock towards the most popular hikes in an area, but rarely check out the trails that are a bit out of the way but equally beautiful.
Side note: Kes and I went into this hike blind and thought we had only walked two or three miles by the end of it. Looking at the map, we realized we had hiked over seven miles without knowing it! I think that’s a testament to the West kicking our butts into shape.
I can always trust Kes to take a panorama.
With a nice appetite worked up, we arrived just in time for our reservation at a nice Italian restaurant. You might be asking ‘why Italian?’ Well, Kes is always craving ravioli and I’m always craving pizza, so it was a pretty easy decision.
I swear, every year this woman just gets more and more beautiful.
We made our way back to the Teardrop after dinner, but the festivities weren’t quite over. We had one more trick up our sleeves: brownies! Some friends back in Los Alamos lent us their old Coleman oven (thanks Pat and Susan!) and we finally had the perfect excuse to set it up.
An oven is the kitchen appliance I miss the most, so using this guy was like having a taste of home again.
Unfortunately, I think the near freezing temperature outside was just too much for the little oven to fight against and we ended up calling it after about 30 minutes. The result was a still goopy, but warm, brownie dough with a crusty top. And let me tell you, we still enjoyed the snot out of that mix.
It’s funny reminiscing on Kes’s birthday because it really wasn’t that much different from what any other day on the road looks like. We got to adventure, eat good food, and, most importantly, hang out with each other. The only difference was really how much that food cost and who was making it. Well, if the secret wasn’t out before, it is now: food really is the way to Kes’s heart.
With a few memories behind us, there were still plenty to be had in Utah. It was time to head to our next destination to make some more: Bryce Canyon National Park.
Bryce Canyon
National Park, Utah
by Kes the Photobean
Hundreds of millions of years ago the young Rocky Mountains grew in height, draining North America’s vast inland sea. Eventually, this mountain building force caused a wide swath of land to pop out of the Earth’s crust like a stubborn pimple.
Okay, maybe that’s a gross and oversimplified way of describing the birth of the Colorado Plateau, but I couldn’t help myself. I left Zion hungry for more details about the peculiar geology of the southwest. Eager for more knowledge about why places like Zion exist, I looked to Bryce Canyon for any sort of clue.
Well, long story short, I fell down a rabbit hole. At the bottom, I found beautiful little nuggets of history, both natural and human. Maybe my fascination has something to do with my love for the Southwest. Maybe I just want an excuse to look closer at the rocks under my feet. Nonetheless, our time in Utah sparked a fire of curiosity in my brain, and I am so pumped to share what I’ve learned.
Oh, and don’t let the name Colorado Plateau fool you. The area of this landmass is split between Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah.
Approximately 5 million years ago, the Colorado Plateau rose up to 6,000 feet into the air.
This, understandably, changed a few things. The most notable difference, in my humble opinion, came in the form of erosion. Water and wind carved through the various layers of uplifted rock, revealing a grand staircase of stone. The steps of this staircase represent stark changes in the Earth’s environment within the past millions and millions of years. Ancient lakes, river systems, dune fields, and seas are all recorded in their own distinct rock layers. The Colorado River has carved so deep into the earth that some of the planet’s oldest geologic layers are exposed at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Bryce Canyon National Park represents the very topmost layer.
During my research for this post, I stumbled upon a 1999 paper on the geology of the Colorado Plateau. This figure beautifully represents the layers of rock I’ve been talking about, along with their age and, best of all, the national parks where you can see those layers yourself. And there’s a lot more where that came from, too (right here).
Named after a 19th century Mormon settler who lived nearby, Bryce canyon gives the visitor a bird’s eye view of this stunning staircase. Well, some of it. The Earth is a bit too round to be able to see the Grand Canyon from here.
Sam and I spent our first day at Bryce hiking beneath the canyon’s rim. Hoodoos pop out of the land in an odd mixture of chaos and order. The frozen mud beneath our feet gave me a false sense of security. For the first couple of miles, I happily found myself breaking the ice that formed in yesterday’s footprints. With time, the sun gradually grew hot enough to thaw the clay under our feet. The rest of our time on the Fairyland Loop was spent dodging the mud and streams of water that covered the trail. I didn’t mind too much though. The views were well worth the dirt.
If you couldn't tell, I LOVE taking photos of trails and the land they cut through.
This panorama shows good ol' snowy Bryce in all its glory. If you look closely, you can see another trail across the canyon.
I really enjoyed watching the sun's early morning light illuminate the orange colors in the rock.
This natural arch/bridge looks like it could be a gateway to another dimension.
Hoodoos in the making will sometimes form little windows. This one in particular caught my eye, and I love how this photo turned out.
Does anyone else see a strange animal in the hoodoos? Personally, I see a new type of Pokemon -- rock and fire type, to be exact.
Our second and last day at Bryce was quite chilly. Covered in a big ol’ snow cloud, we drove to the end of the park’s scenic drive. Sure, I’ll admit it; I was a little bummed that I didn’t get to see the staircase in the distance that day. The fascinating colors of clay and stone below certainly gave me enough consolation, though.
Looking down the length of this photo is always so mesmerizing. `
Fun Fact: This branch is part of a bristlecone pine tree! Sam talked about them in our last post (Week 21 / Great Basin NP) - they’re his favorite tree! The needle pattern makes me want to use it to scrub something.
CAPITOL REEF
NATIONAL PARK, UTAH
by Kes the Photobean
I left Bryce Canyon National Park with a newfound sense of curiosity. The land I found myself in only became more and more intriguing as we traveled. I often caught myself wondering aloud, “What made those formations? Where did they come from? Why do they look like that?” Every rock and mesa held a story, and I desperately wanted to know everything. Little did I know this was just the beginning of my quest for answers.
Our next stop was Capitol Reef National Park. Before I get too deep into that can of worms, I first need to mention how we got there.
In search of a nice, warm shower, Sam discovered that a nearby state park had just what we were looking for. Kodachrome State Park not only had the nicest showers I’ve ever seen (in my life), but the hikes were also stunning. It was a shame we didn’t have more time to explore the area, but we sought to make the most of what time we did have.
Just after we began our morning hike, we stumbled upon this slab of sandstone. Countless handprints were worn into the rockface, some over an inch deep. Looking upon these markings, I felt connected to visitors of the past.
This photo intrigues me. It’s hard to tell where he’s going and where he’s come from. All you see is Sam dutifully exploring along this narrow trail.
Once we were blissfully clean, we continued our road trip towards Capitol Reef. I knew we would cross a few scenic views, but I wasn’t quite prepared for what we stumbled upon. We passed so many overlooks and information panels that we had to limit ourselves, otherwise we’d never get to camp before dark. Highway 12, the road we found ourselves on, is apparently one of the most scenic highways in the country. As a seasoned traveler myself, I can certainly see why.
Although the photo is small for you (darn web constrictions), you can see Powell Point at the very top of the mesa. This image helps illustrate how the Grand Staircase takes form along the edges of the Colorado Plateau. And best of all? There are fossils hidden everywhere in the sea of gray rock (below).
If you look at a map of Utah, you’ll notice very few large towns in the southern portion of the state. I never thought twice about that until I drove along Scenic Byway 12. As beautiful as Southern Utah’s rock formations are, they made for substantial obstacles for Native Americans, early Mormon settlers, and modern folk alike. That isn’t to say they didn’t find a way regardless, but the landscape certainly made things more difficult. Fun fact: this very reason is why Southern Utah was one of the last places in the United States to be surveyed and charted. Can you guess who led the charting expedition?
Scenic Byway 12 was constructed in the mid-1900s. Road workers had to blast through sandstone and work in more than a few precarious positions in order to complete the road. When they finally did, isolated towns were no longer quite as lonely. And a beautiful scenic byway was born!
From this vantage point, you can see more steps to the Grand Staircase. The road stretches across these steps along the path of least resistance. From a photographic standpoint, I love how the road cuts across the complex landscape in seemingly random directions. I really enjoy following the road for as long as I can, until it gets lost among the rolling hills.
This artful road took us along ridges with 1000 foot drops on either side. Maybe the threat of danger adds to the beauty. Maybe I’m a little too distractible when surrounded by so many colors. Either way, I was thankful that Sam was driving instead of me.
Finally, after hours of wondering what the next national park had in store for us, we reached the bounds of Capitol Reef. Leading up to this moment, we were both operating on very little information about the park itself. Earlier in the week, we talked to a couple of friends who made similar road trips across Utah. Both said they skipped Capitol Reef, either because it was too far out of the way or they simply had no interest. On top of that, Sam and I have heard the least about this park compared to the rest of Utah’s destinations.
Of course, that only made the two of us more excited to explore the area.
In order to descend into the valley, we had to take the Burr Trail Switchbacks. In fact, the dirt road we used to enter the park was along the Burr’s old trail. In the late 19th century, this mule trail was the only route that allowed cattleman to enter into the valley. Otherwise, the deep canyons and steep cliff faces entirely prevented further travel.
For a little background, Capitol Reef National Park was established primarily to preserve and protect a geologic wonder. Plate tectonics caused a substantial portion of the Earth’s crust to uplift, creating a ripple that runs north to south. After millions of years of erosion, folded layers of rock have been exposed, creating jagged canyons and mesas. Early settlers likened the area to a barrier reef, which prevented ships from traveling any further.
The switchbacks spat us out into the heart of the valley. The coolest part is that you can see those sedimentary layers are at an angle instead of horizontal.
Looking at the map of this area, Sam and I knew Capitol Reef would quickly become one of our top national parks. The majority of the park is littered with dirt roads and free camping. Although the park itself is fairly small, it’s surrounded on all sides by public land, so there is ample room for future exploration.
In short, Capitol Reef is indeed one of my favorite places on Earth.
The next day was spent driving along a few dirt roads of choice. With good music blasting and my camera’s battery fully charged, we set out on our spectacular drive.
We made sure to stop by the visitor’s center to get a sticker (our choice of souvenir) as well as check out their exhibits on the park. I learned a lot during that little detour. Did you know that the orchards that Mormon settlers grew during the 1800s still produce fruit? If you visit in the fall, you might even be lucky enough to sample one or two of them.
One of the most interesting things I learned during that stop wasn’t about the free food, though. We stopped by an old schoolhouse which sat just down the road from 700 year old petroglyphs. These two relics highlight the connections that people had with this seemingly desolate and unlivable landscape. Against all odds, Native Americans lived in this area from 300 to 1300 A.D. That’s 1,000 years! Among the creeks and washes, they cultivated crops for their thriving societies. Fast forward nearly 500 years after they left, and Mormon settlers took their place. Those settlers even found and utilized old Native irrigation canals that were left behind. These two entirely different cultures sought a place to live and just so happened to choose the same area. Frankly, I find that even more beautiful than the cliffs that protected them.
When our stomachs began to grumble, we stopped by an overlook just off the road. Lower South Desert Overlook.
Tall monoliths of mudrock march along the valley floor.
A sharp ring of white marked the rim of the canyon I stand on. Wherever I chose to look, fascinating colors and shapes and lines greeted me.
Of course, Sam had to stand on the edge of my patience for the sake of a good view, but I couldn’t really blame him. Alas, I have to warn you. If Sam’s proximity to the edge makes you anxious, then the next update might make you queasy.
Here we are at a different viewpoint. In one direction, where Sam is facing, we could see the remnants of an old road worn into the side of a hill.
In the other direction, we looked at the valley from Upper South Desert Overlook. Inspired by the far-off monoliths, we decided to hike to one of them the next day. And that we did, using the old worn out road from the previous photo.
That evening, we set up camp in one of my absolute favorite campsites. Honestly, when I think about it, the view from camp is what sold me. Standing by the galley of the teardrop, I could see bits and pieces of Cathedral Valley poke out from holes in the treeline: sharp mesas, snow capped mountains, but there was more to be seen. When we followed a tiny trail from camp to the edge of a clearing, the entire valley shone in all its glory.
Look at that glorious view! The setting sun cast long shadows, defining the washes and roads of Cathedral Valley.
At one point, Sam and I started playing eye-spy with the vista in front of us. I found it surprisingly hard to describe exactly what I was looking at. This is also my favorite photo of the week, in case you were wondering :)
As a result of the game, I paid more attention to the little details and found hidden treasures in the landscape.
After spending two nights staring at this valley, we were finally going to drive through it. Before we had the chance to fully descend, I hatched up a great idea. The road below made a distinct S through the valley floor. Sam and I watched plenty of people drive on that road from our campsite, and we mused about how awesome it would be to see the Jeep and Teardrop drive through that S. Well, I got to thinking: why not try?
The morning we left, I decided to hop out of the Jeep and wait for Sam to drive the entire way down the mesa, all for the sake of getting a great shot. It’s funny, because the shot I had in mind didn’t even turn out the way I wanted it to. But I also took photos as he was driving down, and I somehow managed to capture an even better photo than I was hoping for.
I have plans for this photo, so it probably won’t be the last time you see it. Hopefully then it’ll do that little bend in the road justice!
This was the unexpected gem. I had a lot of fun sitting back and playing paparazzi, even if it did mean I had to walk an extra mile that day.
When I finally got back to the car, we drove to the feet of the giant monoliths. A hike took us on a ridge overlooking their bases. After staring at these pillars of rock for hours, it was surreal to see them so close. From afar, they looked to be no more than a small mound. From here, it looked like they were small mountains.
The people at the base of this monolith are absolutely dwarfed.
Leaving Capitol Reef was bittersweet. If I never had to restock supplies, I could stay there for weeks on end, exploring and investigating to my heart’s content. Sadly, I couldn’t stay forever. I do, after all, love to eat. I took solace in the knowledge that it would take all day to reach pavement. So, until then, I sat back in my seat and drank in my surroundings.
I cannot wait to come back.
To finish off the post, I need to highlight something very odd we stumbled upon while leaving the park. I have my own theories as to what this is (geologically speaking), but I’d like to see what my Pocket Geologist knows. Any thoughts, Taylor? Oh, and if you have any whacky theories, I’d love to hear them!
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed our post about these National Parks. Working together with Sam to make this for you has honestly been so fun, and I’m thankful for the energy and opportunity to write like this!
As I close up this post, I’d like to shake things up a bit. Along with asking for your favorite photos, I’d like to know which National Park we’ve been to so far that has intrigued you the most! I’ve asked this question to a few friends who read the blog, and their answers are always so good. So, please, allow me to see what piques your interest! I really would love to know :)
Next week we’ll be finishing up Utah by visiting Canyonlands and Arches National Parks. We even stumble upon a few of our own visitors, too.
Oh, and did I mention that we’ll be driving on the edge of a cliff?
Housekeeping
Hi friend,
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If not, then it’s really nice to see you again :)
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Without further ado, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.
Best,
Kes the Photobean
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