Oh, the heat!

Day 92

The second day of Zion included some hiking, unlike the first day when we decided to just be lazy. And the hike was intense. It was essentially 3.5 miles up a long series of switchbacks that led up to Observation Point, which gives you a view of the entire valley. We went through some cool canyons, like Echo Canyon, but for the most part we were walking along the edge of a cliff the whole time. The smartest thing we did is start in the morning before the sun started baking the first uphill stretch prior to entering a canyon area, because once we hit the cliff face when the sun was out, we roasted. The lookout, though, was really an amazing look at the valley floor and the various types of rock siding along up the canyon walls. It was the only hike that we did that day because of how strenuous it was (down was cake, admittedly) and Zion seems like a great place to go backpacking in because of how inaccessible the northern sections are.

On the shuttle ride back from the hike I encountered a young apprentice wizard wielding a menacing looking staff. I sat in the back and kept my distance.

Today I also did a valuable service to the park by ratting out a couple of no-gooders who were breaking branches off of trees and smashing logs against rocks in an effort to collect firewood, which is strictly prohibited. I told the camp host who then caught them and then proceeded to radio in the park service to scare them a little. Felt pretty good watching those bastards get busted.

Day 93

Moving on from Utah (temporarily), we headed south out of Zion and into Arizona for a night on our way to the eastern side of Utah and Monument Valley. So we stopped off in the half-way point of Page, AZ. And let me tell you, it was melt-your-face-off hot. Walking around Page was an oppressive experience. We hid temporarily in a coffee shop to collect ourselves and research camping options before picking up the necessary provisions (hint: beer with more than 3.2% alcohol). As hot and miserable as it was, I made it worse by making a very questionable decision. See, we decided to treat ourselves to some burritos in Arizona where they must be good, and chose an authentic Mexican restaurant, which translates into bonus lard. I ate quite a bit of my burrito and rice and beans (when do burritos that weigh over a pound come with a side of one pound worth or lard enhanced rice and beans?), and regretted it for most of the afternoon. Funny story: I had leftovers (because of the enormosity of the burrito), and shared it with Mike the next day for a late lunch. Neither of us had dinner that night.

We stayed in Glen Canyon National Recreation Area for the night, and that was a very, very smart choice. The campgrounds themselves were on the pricey side, and they didn’t offer a ton of shade, but there’s a massive lake there that’s absolutely perfect for swimming in. We went swimming in the evening as the sun was setting, relaxing in the amazingly warm and refreshing water until after the sun set. And when I got out of the water and felt the cool breeze against my skin and I shivered, I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to hold on to that sensation, as it might be the last time I feel that for weeks.

The strangest occurrence, by far, since entering the southwest, has been its saturation by French people. There were over 130 campsites at Glen Canyon, and I didn’t hear a single other person speak English. We tried doing laundry but there were over a dozen French people (mostly very young - 16-22) sitting with their bundles of dirty clothes waiting for machines to open up. What the hell is going on? Why do the French love the southwest? Mike and I believe it’s their infatuation with all things cowboy, but that doesn’t explain why they were all hanging out in Page, which, quite honestly, was a crap town. This was just our introduction to the French invasion, for it surely didn’t stop there......bum, bum, buuuuuum (as in the menacing sound).

Day 94

Despite its crapulence, we didn’t leave Page all that quickly. We stayed for a nice morning swim in Glen Canyon before heading back to Page to do some laundry (because the French still had total dominance over the one at the campsite), which took longer than we’d hoped. We took refuge in the coffee shop while we waited for our laundry to dry, and were treated to an amazing episode of Bridezillas once the girl working behind the counter switched the channel off NASCAR. We didn’t make the mistake of getting stomach destroying burritos this time though, and once our clothes were done we drove to Monument Valley.

Here’s the travesty: I don’t know a fact about Monument Valley. There was probably some literature about why there’s these huge rock formations that look like they’re jutting up out of nowhere, but that literature went unread (by me) and so all I can say is that the rocks look cool, and I don’t understand them. (If anyone wants to school me, please be my guest.) Mike and I took a night hike around the monuments, which was really very cool in the setting sun and moonlight. The whole area is really quite beautiful. It’s a very peaceful area. The whole Navajo reservation is quite unusual as you drive along these highways with almost no signs of life. The little houses are all tucked away in the small trees.

After we watched a movie (and I wisely hooked the computer into my van’s speakers for way better sound) we heard some noise outside. At 12:30 in the a.m. there was a gaggle of French people showing up to camp near us. Of course, the whole setup at Monument Valley is rather strange. The camping area is literally a circle of dirt that you park in. That’s it. Oh, and turd shacks (port-o-potties). But I’m telling you, there’s something going on with all these French people everywhere.

Day 95

We woke to find that almost all the French people had left - almost assuredly heading to our next destination, which was Natural Bridges. And sure enough, we’re on the highway - which then turns into a really steep, really frightening dirt road that my van barely made it up - and every car that passes us has a little French flag waving in the wind. They came in packs of 4 to 8, and they were all driving such things as Chevy Impalas, waving their French flags. This group seemed much older than the previous Glen Canyon group, maybe more like 40s instead of teenagers, but still. What’s up?

The plan was to take a nice 8.5 mile hike through the canyon at Natural Bridges to see the three natural bridges, but it ended up being about a 7 mile hike that was both treacherous difficult as hell. They should rename the trail “booby-trap canyon of doom and death.” Here’s the problem: there is no trail. You basically just follow the creek bed until you hit all the bridges. But somewhere along the way we took a wrong turn into an entirely different canyon headed outside the park, and it was only a bit of luck and good thinking on our parts that told us to turn back. The danger came not only in the form of unmarked routes outside of the canyon, but in the f’ing land-mines everywhere. Logs broke when stepped on, parts of cliffs eroded from underneath me, there were cacti and sticker bushes that I had to blaze through, not to mention the fact that I was swallowed up to nearly my knees in mud (making my socks/shoes wet the whole hike), nearly fell while skirting a cliff face, and had to do actually rock climbing moves when we realized we had to backtrack. It was an absolute nightmare, and we didn’t even get to see one of the three bridges. I’m just happy that we turned back instead of marching forward to our certain doom. Oh, and did I mention that it was hot as hell down in that canyon? It was the first time on this trip (excluding my first backpacking excursion) that a hike really, really kicked my ass. And, in case you’re wondering, after leaving my shoes out in the sun for two hours they’re now at the point of only being totally soaked.