PLAYING THE SLOTS

Last week, another business trip took me to Salt Lake City. The last time I worked there, various obligations prevented me from spending any extra time in Utah. I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

I finished work at noon on Wednesday and hit I-15 south, towards Las Vegas, so I could spend a few days hitting the slots. No, I’m not talking about slot machines. Rather, my intention was explore a couple of slot canyons in southern Utah. My plan was to spend a few days hiking in the Paria / Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness, just north of the Arizona border. This area is now part of the Grand Staircase / Escalante National Monument (Bill Clinton’s finest achievement). The headwaters of the Paria River are located in Bryce Canyon National Park. From there, the river flows all the way to the Colorado River at the beginning of the Grand Canyon. Although it begins and ends in two world-famous national parks, it may be the parts in between that are the most spectacular.

My plan was to spend three nights car camping at the White House Trailhead. The trailhead features a small, primitive campground. My only concern was in getting a site. There are only five official sites, and it’s a popular area. Plus, work obligations meant that I wouldn’t get there until close to dark.

I endured a long, tedious drive on I-15 south from Salt Lake City. It probably would’ve been less annoying in a better rental car. I was driving a Chevy Malibu, which is an idiotic name for a car. It sounds like it ought to be some sort of convertible chick car. It’s not. Actually, it’s a rather ordinary sedan. However, it did have some entertaining features. While stopped at a rest area, the truck opened all by itself, and then wouldn’t close. I tried slamming it multiple times before it finally closed. Also, I noticed that whenever I hit the brakes, the volume on the radio dropped. What the hell was that? Quite frankly, that car scared me a little.

I eventually escaped the “free” way for a more pleasant drive on highway 89. Just after leaving the town of Panguitch I passed a sign that said, “this is not highway 89”. It was the most useful sign I’d see on the entire trip, because I was supposed to be on 89. I returned to Panguitch and found the correct road. The funny thing is, the last time I drove through here, I made the same wrong turn. Based on the sign I saw, I’m not the only one.

From there, I passed through about a half-dozen small towns with nearly single-digit speed limits. Each town has one police officer, who apparently spends most of his time running radar. In Utah, you can travel at outrageous speeds, just so long as you slow down in the towns.

I passed through Kanab, which is where “Napoleon Dynamite” was filmed. After that last vestige of civilization, it was on into a beautiful desert landscape of red rock. The cliffs were set ablaze by the setting sun when I finally reached the Paria Ranger Station, just beyond the bridge over the river. From here, I followed a gravel road for 2 bumpy miles. The road was a little rough, thanks to a couple of washouts. It hadn’t stopped many folks from getting there, though. The parking lot was nearly full, and it included a couple of large RVs. As I pulled in, it looked like my chances of getting a campsite were poor. I’d probably have to go on to plan B, whatever that was.

I parked, and spotted a fellow at a nearby campsite. He greeted me, and I asked him if there were any vacant sites. I was surprised when he mentioned that there were two free up the hill. Apparently most of the cars at the trailhead belonged to backpackers. I headed up a sandy path, and found a nice site next to a large Juniper tree. It was a good spot, with a picnic table, grill, and firepit. Unfortunately, it was a fair walk uphill from the parking area. I wasn’t about to complain though. I was just happy to have a site. The other vacant spot was taken a few minutes after I set up.

I managed to set up camp after only 3 trips from the car. Later, I dined on spaghetti under a spectacular sky full of stars. I can’t imagine a better place for stargazing than the deserts of southern Utah.

I was up before sunrise the next morning despite the chill. After an egg sandwich, I gathered my gear. The first hike I planned was an ambitious one. I intended to hike downstream, along the Paria River, to it’s confluence with the Buckskin Gulch. From there, I hoped to hike upstream through the Buckskin to an obstruction created by a rock fall. The hike to the confluence is 7 miles, one-way, and the rock fall is a mile and a half further. I was hoping to pull off a 17 mile hike, and still return before dark.

I paid the $5 permit fee at the trailhead, and left at 9. This was later than I’d hoped for, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected considering how disorganized I was. I followed a path down to the river, and descended to the riverbed. There is no trail through the Paria canyon, as the route is basically in the river. Fortunately the water is usually low, and much of the journey can be made on one side or the other. Today, the river was only ankle deep. This was good news, because the water was cold! Although it was only early October, some of the higher mountains to the north already had snow.

I followed the wide, open canyon for 4 miles, frequently rock hopping from one side of the river to the other. I knew I’d have to get wet eventually, but I intended to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. This part of the canyon featured long, sweeping curves. Typically there was a cliff on the outside of each curve, and the river ran right against it. On the inside though, were sandy banks covered in vegetation. Most of the banks featured footpaths that provided nominal short cuts. I made use of them, as much to shorten the hike as to enjoy the flowers, cacti, and other vegetation.

After 2 hours of hiking, the canyon walls gradually began to rise and close in. This signaled the beginning of the narrows. As the canyon constricted, dry land became scarce. Eventually my foot slipped while rock hopping, and I wetted a boot. The game was over. From that point on, I didn’t try to avoid wading.

The river had flooded on September 23^rd, leaving behind deep mud in many places. The mud ended up being more of a nuisance than the water. Before long, I was slopping and sloshing my way down the canyon. Some time later, I reached a sandy beach that was bathed in the sun. I was chilly from the wading, and decided to stop there for an early lunch. I warmed quickly, as it was nearly 80 degrees that day. I knew it wouldn’t last long though. I was about to head deeper into the darkness of the narrows.

After lunch, I resumed the trek down the canyon. After a short distance, I arrived at slide rock. Here, an immense piece of cliff has broken off from the wall of the canyon and fallen into the river. I sure am glad I wasn’t hiking here when it went! The slab is propped against the side of the canyon, and the river rushes underneath it. Initially I took it for a natural bridge, but I suppose it doesn’t technically qualify.

The scenery from slide rock to the confluence is spectacular. The river rushed between narrow walls glowing red from the mid-day sun. In many ways this part of the canyon reminded me of the Virgin River narrows in Zion National Park. Fortunately there’s much less water here though. I’m sure the Virgin River narrows would’ve been frigid on this day.

I was almost disappointed when I reached the confluence. The Paria was just getting good, but I’d explore it no farther. The canyon continues another 32 miles to the Colorado River at Lee’s Ferry. I guess I’ll have to save the rest of the canyon for another time.

I had to leave the Paria behind, but Buckskin Gulch was even better. This canyon was just as deep, but even narrower. There was just a few inches of clear water running here, which made the walking easier. However, the mud may have been worse. The Buckskin flooded on the same day as the Paria, and when the water receded, it left a mess.

A few minutes after entering the canyon, I discovered that quicksand really exists. I was lining up a photo, when I moved my leg to the left to improve my position. As I was about to take the picture, I noticed than the angle of the composition kept changing. What the hell?? Then I felt, a cold, wet sensation climbing up my left leg. I looked down, to find my left leg buried to the knee in quicksand. This may not have been the typical Hollywood depiction of quicksand, which some hapless fool enters, leaving behind only a floating cowboy hat minutes later. It was bad enough though that I was glad I’d only buried one leg. I managed to extract myself with some difficulty, and I was relieved to see that I was still wearing my boot once my foot was free.

I sloshed my way on up the canyon, and reached a spectacular oasis a few minutes later. Here the canyon widens briefly, and sandy benches featuring trees and other lush vegetation provide outstanding campsites. The fresh water flowing through the lower part of Buckskin seems to originate from here, as well. I can’t imagine a finer place to spend a night or two in canyon country.

From there I continued another mile up the canyon. At one point, I had to crawl under a boulder, leaving my pack behind. A couple of minutes later, I reached the infamous rock fall. The rock fall features a pile of boulders 10-15’ high. There are two fixed ropes there, to aid in ascending, or descending. It’s a good thing, as the rock fall presents a substantial obstruction. Even with the ropes, getting up or down would be a little tricky with a big pack.

The rock fall was my turn-around point, so I didn’t have to worry about it. I started back, reluctantly leaving Buckskin Gulch behind. I wasn’t done with Buckskin yet though. I planned on hiking the upper part of the narrows the next day.

I hadn’t gone far when I heard a loud crash from behind me. I was startled, as the Buckskin had been eerily quiet. I took the ruckus for a rock fall, and continued on. A few minutes later, a solo hiker with an Australian accent caught up to me. Apparently the noise I’d heard was him falling down the rock pile. He didn’t seem too traumatized by the fall, as he’d simply brushed himself off and continued on down the canyon. Apparently it had sounded worse than it was.

I walked with him for a while. Surprisingly, he was one of the few people I saw all day. He was in the middle of an extremely ambitious hike. He’d started at the Wire Pass trailhead, which provides the easiest access to the upper part of Buckskin Gulch, at 10am. Prior to his fall, he’d hiked some 12 miles through what is often regarded as the finest slot canyon hike in the world. He was continuing on to the confluence, and then up the river and out to the White House trailhead. There he hoped to find someone to give him a lift back to Wire Pass. His hike was one that I had considered, but ultimately decided against. 20 miles is a long way in difficult terrain, and the obstacles in Buckskin, including deep pools, rock falls, and quicksand, are hard to predict. Plus, the trailheads are 15 miles apart. Without 2 cars for a shuttle, I had been reluctant to take a chance on getting stranded.

He was keeping a great pace, and I didn’t keep up with him for long. I did catch back up to him once though, near where I’d eaten lunch. He had stopped there to observe a small snake. I had nearly stepped on a snake in that area earlier, and it looked similar, but smaller. He thought it was a young rattlesnake, but I wasn’t so sure. It didn’t have any actual rattles, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. The snake was so small, it was hard to get a good look without getting closer than seemed wise.

The hike out from there was uneventful. I made much better time, as I only allowed myself to take a few photos. Plus, my feet were completely soaked, so I was no longer making an effort to stay dry. Plowing straight up the canyon, regardless of the depth of the river, is much faster than bouncing around on the rocks.

I was almost back at camp when I spotted a pair of huge jackrabbits. It was the first wildlife I’d seen, not counting snakes. Earlier I had spotted the skull of a rodent, floating in a pool, but that hardly counts. I returned to camp just after 6, which was a full hour before dark. Darn, I could’ve spent another hour in the canyon! Actually, it was nice to get back to camp before dark. When I arrived, I found the parking lot and campground full. In fact, there were a couple groups of Germans that had improvised campsites around the parking area. That evening, I enjoyed chili for dinner, along with a roaring campfire and a couple of beers. More fantastic star-gazing rounded out the evening.

Continue reading about my trip as I dayhike the narrows of Buckskin Gulch.

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