Regrouping

To regroup or not to regroup . . .  that’s my acknowledgement to Señor Shakespeare, the bard for whose creative works we had intended to adulate tomorrow, but the best laid plans and all that . . .

A nice invitation to meet up with friends at the Shakespeare Festival at Cedar City, Utah, was the deciding factor for which direction we might point our noses as we fled town.  We have long heard about the festival for which Cedar City is so well known, and believing that new experiences are beneficial, we said, “Sure, why not!”

“All’s well that ends well” was the play for which we purchased tickets; however, all did not end well.  The covid specter reared its unwelcome head amongst the cast of “our” play, and there ended our new experience, but not before plans were in place, so we now .find ourselves in a campground a ways up a canyon above Cedar City.

Cedar Canyon Retreat . . . 

 . . . earns its moniker: it's a small commercial campground with the feel of Forest Service.  History pervades the place: the office is in an old log cabin that served historically as a blacksmith shop; the RV and tent sites are scattered haphazardly among piñon trees on a canyon slope with views across to the opposite wooded cliff faces.

Admittedly, set-up was a bit tricky: our site is not level, but after some maneuvering, the Pup is solid and slopeless.  We immediately met folks in nearby campsites who are engaging all around.  I was especially taken with the couple who have rented a small (note emphasis) trailer to try out “camping” with their three young daughters.  Residents of Salt Lake City, they are attempting to inculcate a sense of adventure into their offspring, with great success, it seems to me.  Close quarters, but those young’uns will cherish this time always, and probably pass on tales to those who follow.

The drive here was relatively painless primarily by dint of the exquisite scenery through which we passed.  Our route was northward on Highway 89 through Jacob Lake and Fredonia.  As we gained the northern apex of the Kaibab Plateau, we climbed up for a perusal at the stunning scene splayed out before us.  The incredible vastness of the Grand Staircase and tributary canyons spread before us and to the sides as if we were on a lofty peninsula.

Photographs could not begin to convey the scope of the landscape and our sense of awe at what was before us, but I snapped a couple anyway and futilely, because I must.

A diagram of what we were seeing was handy to peruse; however, I was more inclined to just absorb the scenery visually.

Not far from there, we were treated to the sight of three California condors circling not very high overhead.  Paled in comparison, but deserving of mention, the few other birds we identified on our drive were American raven, great blue heron and a swan - ambiguous as far as specifics because it was a fleeting glimpse as we drove by.

When we're pulling the trailer, there is little chance for photo op stops, but we did manage one at just the right place to admire the geologic coloration.

The boats . . .

With a little help from our kids and lots of time and effort by the señor, we have managed to bring the boats along on this trip.  No idea if there will be opportunity to get them wet, but at least they are up there, not at all an easy feat for two aging adventurers.  It may very well end up being more trouble than it's worth, but it won’t be for lack of trying.

Dawn in the canyon . . .

. . . arrives quite a bit later than out on the flatlands; as a consequence, we slept a good two hours later than at home, rising 7:30ish to a soft morning, sky pillowed with puffy cloud remnants of yesterday's overcast that promised rain but withheld the earth's needed moisture.