We made a return trip to Bryce Canyon on Wednesday morning, as the sunset had come a little too early for us the night before! We visited several overlook points that we had missed, including the incredible Bryce Point. A sign informed us that Ebenezer Bryce, the rancher after whom the park was named, said of the canyon, “It’s a hell of a place to lose a cow.” Although the hoodoos are spectacular, and hoodoo IS awfully fun to say, we decided to save our hiking time for Zion Canyon National Park.
The drive from Bryce Canyon to Zion Canyon was beautiful, with pink rock formations close to Bryce followed by lovely fall foliage closer to Zion. We saw the usual glowing yellow aspens but also occasional red trees that seemed to be maples. It almost looked like New England!
Zion Canyon, on the other hand, definitely does NOT look like New England! The landscape became dry and rocky as we approached the park, and a huge, lined, and wrinkled rock formation called the Checkerboard Mesa greeted us as we entered. We passed through two tunnels, one short and one so long and narrow that one lane of traffic has to be stopped for large vehicles like RVs to navigate it. The svelte Gumby van whizzed through with ease, of course. The road descends into the canyon through a series of switchbacks, while red cliffs tower overhead. Visitors’ vehicles are only allowed part of the way into the park; the remaining scenic drive must be taken aboard the park’s shuttle buses, as a congestion- and pollution -control measure. We thought that was a wonderful idea, and we’re surprised more parks don’t use the same system; it would be especially appropriate in Yosemite. There are two campgrounds within the park, and we were lucky to get one of the last sites with electricity. We learned that one trail in the park was open to dogs (yippee!) and took our pup for a walk. Molly gives Zion Canyon two paws up, as the trail bordered the river and had many river access points. She tried most of the little beaches, and even found a nice yellow Labrador to play with. When Molly was wet, muddy, and tired, we left her in the van and took the shuttle tour of the park. We looked up in awe at the cliffs, and tried to decide which trail we would hike in the morning.
All of Zion Canyon was carved out by the now small and shallow Virgin River. The area near the visitors’ center and campground is quite open, as the canyon walls were softer there and crumbled down in landslides. Further into the canyon, the walls become steeper and closer together. The end of the shuttle bus route is a nearly circular section of canyon called the Temple of Sinawava, after a Native American god. The river continues on from there into the ever-narrowing canyon, and the hike we chose accompanies it. A nice path borders the river for a mile or so; after that, hikers can continue on, into the river! We waded along, trying not to mind the icy water; being hardy New Hampshire beach-goers, we knew numbness would set in eventually and the cold would become tolerable, as it did after a few minutes. We had so much fun, splashing along in the water, which is seldom deeper than knee-level. The canyon walls ascend about a thousand feet on both sides, and the channel between is often no wider than twenty or so feet. Alcoves and shelves have been carved out of the stone at different levels. Water seeps out of the canyon walls, and ferns and other plants grow from crevices in the walls, as in a hanging garden. The sun slants down to the river only occasionally. It is a such a beautiful place! We stopped on every tiny beach to warm our feet and take photographs, and we managed to keep from falling into the river as we waded. We saw a lovely, tiny waterfall descending the cliffs to the river, and we peeked into mysterious dark crevices in the rock walls. We had a wonderful morning!
The narrow canyon continues for miles (fourteen, I think the shuttle driver said!), but we didn’t want to leave Molly in the van for too long. She had been waiting patiently (or perhaps impatiently) for about five hours by the time we returned, so we took her for another walk on the dogs-allowed trail. She played in the same river in which we had been wading; she was just a little further downstream. Then she ran in the reddish sand, which stuck to her wet fur until she looked like she had red stripes. Sandeep had to dunk her in the water and then carry her, in the traditional icky-dog-carrying-style (wet, muddy, or smelly little dog gripped under the armpits and held at arm’s-length from the person carrying) back to the paved path before we left.
We left the park and drove south through Utah, through the town of Kanab where we were amused by a police car occupied by a very un-lifelike mannequin, and into Arizona. We reserved a site at a campground in Jacob Lake, and then drove south to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The drive to the canyon was beautiful. Large meadows border the road, and they are edged by evergreen and aspen forests: green dotted with yellow, this time of year. We saw many, many deer, grazing in the fields.
We reached the Grand Canyon in time to watch the sun set over its western edge. The canyon, strangely lit as it was, resembled a Thomas Moran painting, and the sky was pink and gray. We have had Thomas Moran frequently in mind as we travel through the west; he is one of Sandeep’s favorite painters, and so many of the landscapes still appear just as they did in his paintings, created more than a hundred years ago.
We have both seen the canyon from the South Rim, and with no time on this trip for a hike down inside, we felt that our evening view was sufficient. We left the campground (the worst we have visited yet, with port-a-potties and coin-operated COLD showers – eek!), and drove towards central Arizona, to visit my great-aunt Linda in Prescott. Charley, get ready; Molly is headed in your direction!
The drive from Bryce Canyon to Zion Canyon was beautiful, with pink rock formations close to Bryce followed by lovely fall foliage closer to Zion. We saw the usual glowing yellow aspens but also occasional red trees that seemed to be maples. It almost looked like New England!
Zion Canyon, on the other hand, definitely does NOT look like New England! The landscape became dry and rocky as we approached the park, and a huge, lined, and wrinkled rock formation called the Checkerboard Mesa greeted us as we entered. We passed through two tunnels, one short and one so long and narrow that one lane of traffic has to be stopped for large vehicles like RVs to navigate it. The svelte Gumby van whizzed through with ease, of course. The road descends into the canyon through a series of switchbacks, while red cliffs tower overhead. Visitors’ vehicles are only allowed part of the way into the park; the remaining scenic drive must be taken aboard the park’s shuttle buses, as a congestion- and pollution -control measure. We thought that was a wonderful idea, and we’re surprised more parks don’t use the same system; it would be especially appropriate in Yosemite. There are two campgrounds within the park, and we were lucky to get one of the last sites with electricity. We learned that one trail in the park was open to dogs (yippee!) and took our pup for a walk. Molly gives Zion Canyon two paws up, as the trail bordered the river and had many river access points. She tried most of the little beaches, and even found a nice yellow Labrador to play with. When Molly was wet, muddy, and tired, we left her in the van and took the shuttle tour of the park. We looked up in awe at the cliffs, and tried to decide which trail we would hike in the morning.
All of Zion Canyon was carved out by the now small and shallow Virgin River. The area near the visitors’ center and campground is quite open, as the canyon walls were softer there and crumbled down in landslides. Further into the canyon, the walls become steeper and closer together. The end of the shuttle bus route is a nearly circular section of canyon called the Temple of Sinawava, after a Native American god. The river continues on from there into the ever-narrowing canyon, and the hike we chose accompanies it. A nice path borders the river for a mile or so; after that, hikers can continue on, into the river! We waded along, trying not to mind the icy water; being hardy New Hampshire beach-goers, we knew numbness would set in eventually and the cold would become tolerable, as it did after a few minutes. We had so much fun, splashing along in the water, which is seldom deeper than knee-level. The canyon walls ascend about a thousand feet on both sides, and the channel between is often no wider than twenty or so feet. Alcoves and shelves have been carved out of the stone at different levels. Water seeps out of the canyon walls, and ferns and other plants grow from crevices in the walls, as in a hanging garden. The sun slants down to the river only occasionally. It is a such a beautiful place! We stopped on every tiny beach to warm our feet and take photographs, and we managed to keep from falling into the river as we waded. We saw a lovely, tiny waterfall descending the cliffs to the river, and we peeked into mysterious dark crevices in the rock walls. We had a wonderful morning!
The narrow canyon continues for miles (fourteen, I think the shuttle driver said!), but we didn’t want to leave Molly in the van for too long. She had been waiting patiently (or perhaps impatiently) for about five hours by the time we returned, so we took her for another walk on the dogs-allowed trail. She played in the same river in which we had been wading; she was just a little further downstream. Then she ran in the reddish sand, which stuck to her wet fur until she looked like she had red stripes. Sandeep had to dunk her in the water and then carry her, in the traditional icky-dog-carrying-style (wet, muddy, or smelly little dog gripped under the armpits and held at arm’s-length from the person carrying) back to the paved path before we left.
We left the park and drove south through Utah, through the town of Kanab where we were amused by a police car occupied by a very un-lifelike mannequin, and into Arizona. We reserved a site at a campground in Jacob Lake, and then drove south to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The drive to the canyon was beautiful. Large meadows border the road, and they are edged by evergreen and aspen forests: green dotted with yellow, this time of year. We saw many, many deer, grazing in the fields.
We reached the Grand Canyon in time to watch the sun set over its western edge. The canyon, strangely lit as it was, resembled a Thomas Moran painting, and the sky was pink and gray. We have had Thomas Moran frequently in mind as we travel through the west; he is one of Sandeep’s favorite painters, and so many of the landscapes still appear just as they did in his paintings, created more than a hundred years ago.
We have both seen the canyon from the South Rim, and with no time on this trip for a hike down inside, we felt that our evening view was sufficient. We left the campground (the worst we have visited yet, with port-a-potties and coin-operated COLD showers – eek!), and drove towards central Arizona, to visit my great-aunt Linda in Prescott. Charley, get ready; Molly is headed in your direction!
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