A Snapshot and The Scoop: My Indecisiveness Gets Really Annoying

After being forced to abandon my hiking and backpacking plans due to a road closure, I made a trip to Bryce Canyon National Park, only to have my attempts to see the hoodoos thwarted by yet more snow. With half a mind to head to my next planned destination, Zion National Park, I left Bryce amid a snowstorm that quickly intensified to nearly white-out conditions. I drove slowly, hovering on the edge of turning back and finding a hotel, while also grappling with my gigantic stubborn streak. Only after 13 miles of inching through piles of snow did my common sense win over my idiocy, and I turned back to the last place of safety and warmth I'd passed. Thirteen miles later I pulled into the driveway of a hotel and gratefully asked for a room. My satisfaction with the choice to turn back only increased when I saw they had bottles of wine for sale, and I purchased three bottles to help me wait out the storm.

Leave me a comment below and let me know if you would have just stayed put right from the beginning, or would you have tried to move on like I did?

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Inspiration Point...I Guess?

Well, I wanted to see hoodoos in the snow...I think this was a case of "be careful what you wish for." I hadn't even intended to stop in Bryce Canyon National Park but due to some closures I wandered into the park with the idea to see the famous Bryce Amphitheater glazed with snow, and got a little more than I bargined for. So much so, in fact, that it was impossible for me to see anything at all, even though I tried all of the viewpoints that the plows had kept open. Better luck next time!

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you would have tried to go see this park, even during a snowstorm!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Can Illiteracy Stay In Your System Like The Flu?

Apparently I suffered from illiteracy a lot while on my recent winter adventure in the deserts of southern Utah. For some reason I couldn't read this sign while on my way to a viewpoint in Bryce Canyon National Park, and thought the chain was there to help give support and traction on the snowy sidewalk. It's a damn good thing I didn't fall off the end of the path, isn't it?

Leave me a comment below and tell me what you think.

Hoodoos, Blizzards, and Some Potentially Bad Choices

Patient. Did you know I love the desert? Shocking, I know, but I can't get enough of the red rocks, towering cliffs, deep canyons, and threads of water that snake through the baked earth. Of course, I'm talking about the desert in summer. Up until this year, I'd only ever visited the desert in summer or autumn, when temperatures during the day easily hit or surpassed 90 degrees and nighttime lows weren't much less. This January, however, I finally had a chance to visit the best place on the planet during the winter, and it didn't disappoint. The desert in winter is everything I wanted it to be, even with (and maybe because of) the extensive closures due to ice/snow/bad weather. Although I now live in East Texas, I'm originally from Nebraska so I know how to drive on snow and ice, even if I have a tiny two-wheel drive Yaris. Bad weather isn't something that bothers me, and quite honestly, I prefer winter travelling just because there are significantly less people at the places I want to see. I travel to find peace and solitude, and there's no better time to find those qualities than when it is snowing.

Halfway through this year's winter-week in the desert, I found myslef making an unplanned stop at Bryce Canyon National Park. I had been forced to abandon my plans to hike and camp in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument due to road closures, so continued on and stopped to see the famous hoodoos topped with snow. Bryce has the highest overall elevation of the Big Five national parks in Utah, so I was unsurprised to find it snowing softly when I arrived at the park. I knew from my trip research that the park road was mostly closed and that the plow crews only cleared about a mile, up to the second viewpoint, but decided it was worth a stop anyway. I arrived at Bryce Point and found myself alone, enveloped in a thick layer of fog that obscured everything. There was something about being at a place where I knew amazing vistas were layed out below me, but hiding from the world, that was enchanting in itself. I didn't get to see hoodoos covered in snow, but with the fluffy cold stuff gently falling from the clouded air around me, I wasn't disappointed.

It didn't take me long to get my fill of fog-choked vistas before I decided to leave the park and head to my next destination, although it was snowing a little harder and I half-wondered if I should just stay put until it cleared up. I didn't, and turned on to the main road to continue my trip. Before long, however, the soft snow became harder and smaller, and the winds picked up. I was forced to inch through the storm, fighting to keep my car on the road and to see where I was going in near white-out conditions. It took me thirteen miles, thirteen white-knucked curvy winding miles, to finally decide that I was making a huge mistake in trying to push forward. I was going so slow I could have walked faster than I was driving, but I really didn't want to slide off the side of the road into the bottom of a canyon. Thanks but no thanks. Even with my upbringing (my birthday is in January, I learned to drive on ice) I don't remember the last time I was stupid enough to try to drive through a full-blown blizzard. I slowly inched into a u-turn, and painstakingly drove back to the hotel located at the entrance to Bryce Canyon.

The decision to turn around was a good one, as I found out from the hotel clerk that the road I was trying to get to was closed not long before I pulled into the hotel driveway. I got a room for the night and resigned myself to the fact that I had to spend more money on a hotel when I should have been camping. I was consoled a little bit, though, when I discovered that the hotel sold bottles of wine from Castle Creek, a winery located in Moab who makes a delicious white table wine, and I *might* have bought three bottles to help me get through the storm. I got to my room, borrowed a wine glass from the in-house restaurant, and settled in to spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying myself.

About an hour before sunset the storm broke, and it actually cleared off enough to convince me to leave the warm hotel and venture back into the park with the lure of snow-covered hoodoos. The plow crew had their work cut out for them clearing the small portion of road, and I was lucky enough to get behind of of them as they made their way up to the viewpoints. When I arrived, I knew I had made the right decision to come back; the fog had lifted enough for the amphitheater full of red rock hoodoos to be visible, and the view was stunning. I didn't even feel the cold as I trudged through snowdrifts to the very edge of the cliff, marveling at how much winter changes the landscape. I stayed there for a long time, until the fog closed in again and I was left in a swirling gray cloud at the edge of the world. I returned to my hotel, happy and satisfied with my decision to stop at Bryce in the first place and to come back and stay the night.

Another blizzard closed in overnight, so when dawn broke the world was covered in a fresh six inches of snow. Once again, I followed a plow into the park and visited the overlooks, but the fog was thick and showed no signs of lifting. I still left the park a happy girl, and found Hwy 12 to be snowpacked but passable as I continued on.

Maybe I Pushed It a Little Too Hard

Frustrated. I couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time to get sick. I mean, no time is a good time to fall ill, but 24 hours into a ten day camping trip in the desert (during January) isn't exactly conducive to enjoying my winter experience. If I am honest with myself, I wasn't feeling all that great the day I left home, but I chalked it up to anticipation and a long drive. When I started feeling icky on my first hike, though, I knew I was in trouble. By the time I got to my car I hardly wanted to move, and forced myself to drive into Moab to pick up some medicine. I pushed through the rest of the day, but by the time I had finished trying to enjoy a spectacular sunset over the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park through a major headache and congestion, I knew I wouldn't be camping that night. I drove back to Moab and found a cheap hotel room, hoping that a good night's sleep and a constant warm temperature would stop me from getting worse.

I woke up the next morning feeling okay, but not totally normal. I drove to Capitol Reef National Park, explored an awesome road (story in an upcoming post) and did a short hike to a small slot-like canyon, but after two miles I knew I was in trouble again. The drive back wasn't nearly as fun, and I found a hotel in Torrey and called it an early night. I'm pretty sure I called Jared and my parents, half-crying and upset with myself and the situation. I've never before seriously considered calling off a trip and heading home, but I was very close that night. Stuck in a hotel room while I had planned to camp every night of my ten day trip, congestion making it hard to breathe (let alone hike), and a headache so bad I probably shouldn't have been driving, I was miserable and on the verge of giving up. The only thing that prevented me from packing up that night and going home was the fact that I honestly didn't think I could drive, and I was so tired after a day of doing nothing that I went to bed when the sun was still in the sky and tried to sleep it off.

I am a motivated, self-reliant, and (best of all) incredibly stubborn person who hates being told she can't do something, so to have my own body preventing me from enjoying the desert trip I had planned out was seriously frustrating. I knew I shouldn't have tried to stick to my plan by driving to my next destination and attempting that day's short hike, but I at least had the smarts to not tent-camp in below-freezing temperatures, and to get a full night's rest. Twice. I wallowed in self-pity that night, sad that my experience in Canyonlands wasn't what I wanted it to be, and almost as upset that I didn't get to enjoy Capitol Reef like I should have, but even though I wanted to give up I would have kicked myself if I'd gone home after just two days in the desert. When I get this idea in my head of the way something is supposed to be, I take any deviation from that ideal as a serious blow. I just kept telling myself that I had a whole week ahead of me, and hoped that I would get over the cold quickly enough for me to enjoy the rest of my trip.

After more than twelve hours of sleep, the next morning dawned cold and cloudy over Torrey, UT and I actually woke up feeling pretty good. I stubbornly decided to take a chance and push on with my original plan to drive up and over the Boulder Mountains to the middle of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and my next hiking/camping destination. As it turns out, I couldn't have hiked or camped in the monument due to multiple road closures, preventing me from getting to my destination, but it kinda worked out. I made an impromptu stop at Bryce Canyon National Park, and by the time I walked to the overlooks I felt like myself again. I was back in the game, and ready to break out my tent again and enjoy the desert, magically transformed into a winter wonderland; it was right about that same time when the first blizzard hit.

An All-American Road: Utah's Highway 12

Replenished. I've been on a lot of roads that astound me, and I find myself exclaiming again and again "this is one of my favorite roads!" And I'm not exaggerating; I've driven on over a hundred thousand miles of road and several of them make my Favorites List (Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, Highway 313 up to Canyonlands National Park, Utah 128 near Moab, Schafer Road in Utah, plus numerous jeep trails, just for examples) but nothing I've seen or driven on so far even comes close to Highway 12 in southern Utah. This road has it all: mountains, deserts, stunning views and dizzying heights set upon hairpin curves, not to mention it connects two of Utah's Big Five National Parks, Capitol Reef and Bryce Canyon. There is no comparison; it takes my breath away every time I drive it.

Starting in the town of Torrey, 12 takes you straight into Dixie National Forest and a gently sloping land of pinion pines and juniper trees. Gradually, almost without you noticing, the desert trees start to mix with ponderosas as you gain altitude, and it's only once you're surrounded by a grove of aspens do you realize you've left the desert below and are truly in the Boulder Mountain Range. Scenic viewpoints make you realize how high you are when the canyons and domes of Capitol Reef National Park shrink into almost nothing. High above the desert, the mountain road twists and curves through stands of evergreens and aspens. If you visit during the summer you're likely to find shade, water and a cool retreat from the baked desert below. In the winter the road turns icy and treacherous, and the plow crews have their work cut out for them to keep the roads free of drifting snow.

As you descend, the high-altitude trees give way to desert pinions and junipers again, until the trees abruptly end and 12 spits you back out into the desert. Now you enter Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and suddenly realize that you're driving on a tiny spit of land only just wider than the road, with canyons yawning open eight hundred feet or more straight down on either side of you. Narrow pullouts provide photographers and thrill seekers with opportunities to stand on the lips of those canyons and gaze with wonder at what a little water and wind can do. Let me just say that this road is not for those with a fear of heights.

And then 12 dives over the edge of the canyon, descending to trace Calf Creek and crossing the Escalante River, those ribbons of water responsible for carving the canyons you admired from above. The winding road along the canyon bottom branches off, giving access to hiking and camping areas managed by the Bureau of Land Management. Continuing on, you ascend again and leave the monument, though you technically drive through it for several more miles here and there while on the road. Only after steadily gaining elevation do you arrive at the historic pioneer town of Tropic, and just beyond that, Bryce Canyon National Park. A stop at Bryce is well worth several days and I was unintentionally stuck there myself this past winter, but that is a story for another post. 12 continues on.

The final stretch of Highway 12 travels through yet another stunning geological marvel: the Red Canyon. For those of you who skipped Bryce Canyon (shame on you) Red Canyon give you a taste of what you missed. As you descend into the canyon gigantic monoliths rise out of ponderosa forests, contrasting bright red rocks with dark green pines. Drive it in the winter and you get to add in a dusting (or four plus inches) of snow. There are scenic turnouts every quarter-mile, and at each one the view is different. Trails crisscross the canyon, and a campground provides a home for those who don't want to leave right away.

Just beyond the end of Red Canyon, 12 comes to an end. Turning north or south on Highway 89 will take you to yet more amazing destinations in Utah, but no road can compare to the scenic byway marvel that is Highway 12. I could spend an entire trip to Utah solely on that road and never run out of things to do. Hey, maybe I'll do exactly that. Anybody want to go with me?