Zion!
July 13, 2016

Stupendous!  Our walk/wade into the narrows of the Virgin River in Zion National Park was nothing less than a total blast - the funnest thing I've done in ages!  A visit to Zion is incomplete without that experience.  Of course it was further enhanced for us by what preceded it: an all-day hike/climb on several of Zion’s amazing trails . . . in the heat.

The north fork of the Virgin River as it flows through Zion; this is down canyon from the narrows.

Admittedly, it took me a while to reconcile the unexpected crowds of people swarming through the main canyon areas, but once I accepted that reality, it all fell into place.  Our only previous visit to Zion was on our honeymoon 40ish years ago.  That was before the shuttle system was in place; in those good ol’ days, a person simply drove through the canyons and leisurely enjoyed the sights.  We camped in the Park’s back country and were completely alone, not so this time.

Now one must leave one’s vehicle and stand in Disneyland-like queues to board a shuttle bus that disgorges and boards passengers at pre-arranged stops, a system that allows hordes of folks to crawl ant-like up and over the mammoth cliffs of Zion.

Emerald pools, the narrows . . .

Arriving completely unprepared for what our day would look like, we did one short walk before deciding to fall in line and head toward the Emerald Pools trail.  Let’s check out the lower pool, we thought, and then opted to go further to the middle pool.  It was a hot climb with incredible scenes at every turn (I’ve tossed most of my photos; they just don’t convey the majesty), me chewing my nails the entire time as children cavorted around, oblivious to the life-threatening sheer drop-offs that they were teetering next to.

Once we had gained the middle pool, it was our usual “We’ve come this far; we might as well continue”, and upward we climbed to the top pool.  The crowds thinned considerably up there and we rested in the shade of huge cottonwoods with exceedingly bold squirrels searching for hand-outs and running across my stretched-out legs.

Mustering our energy, we continued with more hiking further along the canyon wall to bottom out where we caught the shuttle for even more trekking into the narrows. 

I absolutely had to laugh at the sight of all those people wading into the lusciously cool current of the Virgin River.  As we continued deeper into the canyon, the walls towered more and more sheer as they got closer together, and the water deepened and got swifter.  The footing was a little precarious over the shifting river rock, but not overly worrisome.  The water was deep enough to get our shorts wet and decidedly easier walking when we turned around to go downstream.  Delicious to have that refreshing time after the heat of the day up on the rocky cliff faces!

All of it was an exhilarating beautiful experience, but I have to admit we were bushed by the time we arrived home - beat, exhausted, tired and done in, yet grateful that we are able to have such adventures.

Sand, lotsa sand in a windstorm . . .

While we are on the subject of parks, I will mention our visit to Coral Pink Sand Dunes, a Utah state park.  Firstly, do not, I repeat do not pay the admission fee to enter the visitor’s center.  Before we arrived at the official entrance, we had hiked out into the dunes, quite a feat in itself.  The hills of sand are exceedingly difficult to scale, but the unique beauty makes it well worthwhile.

Secondly, do not, I repeat do not go there on a windy day.  The continuous gale force winds we encountered at Coral Pink dang near exfoliated our skin plumb off our skeletons and made photography next to impossible.  We continued on into our hike despite the pain and that was the best part of our excursion.  Eight bucks admission fee later, we discovered the visitor’s center consisted of a gopher snake in an snakerium, a stuffed fox, a stuffed eagle and about three thousand tiny vials of sand from all over the world.

Welsh's milkweed, a rare plant found almost exclusively in the pink coral sand dunes.  We also saw several specimens of the tiger beetle that lives only there, although they did not sit still to have their picture taken.

When we attempted discussion with the ranger, we were met with shoulder shrugs and monosyllabic responses.  I am fairly certain he has never been out into his sand dunes.  Shoulda asked for our money back . . .

Pipe Spring, Winsor Castle . . .

A lifetime in Arizona, yet I had never been to Pipe Spring, an omission now remedied, and what a contrast from the ranger encounter at the sand dunes!  Although the Pipe Spring official had been stationed at that site for only a year, his knowledge and passion for the historical place made the stop fascinating.

We went back over the state boundary to visit Pipe Spring.

Three of us were there for his tour and he brought the multitudes from the past to life with his knowledge.  His research had been so thorough that he easily and fully answered all our questions.

Now a National Monument, Pipe Spring has been a place of great importance for eons because of its abundant water flowing from beneath the ground, although that flow is much diminished now.

The Kaibab Band of Paiute Indians continue to reside in the region as they have for millennia.  The site’s large fortification, called Winsor Castle, was constructed in the 1870s after the ranch was purchased by Brigham Young to serve as a supply business for the Latter Day Saints church.  It produced voluminous quantities of cheese and meat over a long period of time.

In addition to Winsor Castle, the site has lovely water pools shaded by overhanging cottonwood trees and picturesque outbuildings.  An interpretative museum is very well done with substantial information about the Paiutes and their ancestral lines in addition to the history of the early ranchers and Mormon families who were there.

 
How fun that Chris had the opportunity to play the antique pump organ in Winsor Castle.  The ranger said the bellows needed to be exercised.

This guy was just trying to stay out of the mid-day sun.

Duck Creek, Navajo Lake . . .

Chris was curious to see a natural lake he had heard about, primarily because of the way it was formed.  Seems that at some point in the distant past, Duck Creek had flowed merrily along its way, that is until a gigantic flow of molten lava blocked its path, forming what is now called Navajo Lake.

The lava dike that dammed Duck Creek is visible across the lake.

The lake is long and relatively narrow; it remains fresh water because it has found an outflow through unseen lava tunnels.  A dirt dike bisects the lake's center point, evidently to maintain a more constant water level in the upper section during droughty periods.

This doe did not appear to notice us until we were practically upon her.

Massive lava flows are seen throughout the area.

Finding that Duck Creek has also created some small lakes, Aspen-Mirror & Duck Creek Pond, in addition to Navajo, we stopped to peruse them and their environs.  The ponds and the creek itself are really lovely spots, seemingly very popular with local fishing aficionados, also home to several families of mallards.

Babies everywhere we turned: mallards here, ospreys and turkeys below.

Maynard Dixon . . .

It seems that there are surprises wherever a person turns; the Thunderbird Foundation for the Arts, and the home & studio of artist Maynard Dixon in nearby Mt. Carmel were among those unexpected finds.  I spotted a small sign as we drove by; we were thrilled that we stopped there for a look-see.

The Foundation’s gallery is exceptional; it and periodic events are for the purpose of maintaining Dixon’s adjoining property, a charming serene setting.

A real bonus was for Chris to get to play the fine piano in the Foundation's gallery and for me and others to hear his awesome music inspired by the surrounding landscapes.

We were alone in touring the grounds, house, bunk house for visiting artists, and studio.  A short steep climb up the ridge behind the house is where his widow, Edith, interred his ashes beneath a boulder and from which there is a view across the valley to the pink cliffs beyond.

Bauer’s, neighbors . . .

We so much enjoyed our quiet campsite at Bauer’s small park and some of the surrounding sites and scenes.  There is also a nice area set aside for tent campers.  We savored evenings out playing music and visiting with neighbors.

A foursome next to us in a tiny teardrop trailer were vacationing from El Paso, Texas: staff for Casas por Cristo, a non-profit organization that builds abodes in Guatemala, Mexico and the Dominican Republic.

I had never heard of the Casas group; from their website: “ . . . In just one week teams transform an otherwise empty lot into a safe and secure home - complete with cement foundation, electricity, windows and doors."

More than a humanitarian organization, they state their mission: “While building homes is what we do, our core mission is to reach the people of México, Guatemala and the Dominican with the love of Jesus Christ. Our ministry is about bringing hope to families in need. It's about a God that loves His children so much that He sends strangers to build them a home with no strings attached. It is our prayer that each individual we serve will know the saving grace, peace, and joy that comes only through a relationship with Jesus Christ.”

I find it comforting that there are such in this world that can often seem fraught with only violence and danger.

The two couples had ingeniously organized their camp to make such small quarters work for the four of them.  One couple slept in the trailer; the other two folks were comfortable in the pickup cab on a cleverly suspended bed.  Each person had a plastic bin for his clothing, stashed beneath a false bottom in the truck bed, and a place for everything with everything in its place.  There was even an instant hot water mechanism for washing dishes outside.

Other neighbors, Phil & Janet, were sociable folks from Ohio who spent several evenings with us before departing to see their son & family in Washington with a side trip to view the giant redwoods in California.  Then there was the French man with his three teen youngsters camping in a rented van with tent sleeper atop, plus the opted-out-of-the-fast lane couple who have left me philosophizing.

They are full-time in a 23-foot travel trailer with their rescued dog and cat, who sometimes live in Bandera, Texas, or wherever suits them.  Their footloose and fancy freedom could sound attractive on the surface.  They left highly stressful careers, Wall Street and social service, while off-loading their evidently vast amount of possessions and large house for a lifestyle that they say makes them “light”.

All sounds good so far; however, I am scratching my head over the “What now?” part.  Whatever park they stay in, they ask to cut the grass for free so that they have something satisfying and quantifiable to keep them occupied.  As best as I can discern, the remainder of their time is spent lounging around the trailer.  I have to wonder how long cutting grass will be satisfying.

We had a nice chat with Jake, an elderly gentleman who lives across the road in a house he built that he says "hasn't fallen in yet".  He has lived in Glendale his entire life, but seems lonely and was anxious to visit.  Jake is modest about his building abilities; the house and its rock facade are quite handsome, as is his garden, one of many in that valley.

There is so much more to explore in that region; we shall surely return, especially because it's an easy day's drive from home.

Our back yard is an apple and plum orchard.

Sure enough, they can get along if they've a mind to.