utah – Josh Hodge blog

Wildfire at Dinosaur National Monument

September 11, 2020September 11, 2020Posted in UncategorizedTagged harpers corner, life elevated, national parks, utah, wildfires1 Comment

“Hmm, wildfire,” I assumed as I looked before me as nature itself was being engulfed in flames. Billows of smoke stretched across the sky. “I should be fine,” I concluded and continued on my adventure. I was in Dinosaur National Monument, maybe the greatest underrated gem in the National Park Service. Straddling the border of northern Utah and Colorado among swirly canyon walls, Dinosaur National Monument boasts a landscape of twenty-three layers of red, grey, white, and beige rock, composing enormous formations looking like they bubbled up from the earth’s core. Along with that are gigantic plateaus overlooking the convergence of the Yuma and Green Rivers, along with forests, deserts, and savannah. Today it had the added feature of long stretches of traveling smoke from wildfire.

The monument initially consisted of eighty acres set aside by president Woodrow Wilson in 1915 but then was expanded to 210,000 acres by Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1938. It preserves the habitat of a once dinosaur metropolis. The National Park Service informs in their visitor center that it is believed the dinosaurs of the Jurassic period died here in drought and then a great rapidly ascending flood jumbled up together the bones of over five hundred dinosaurs representing ten species. The abundance of congregated fossils remains preserved in the sandstone. Paleontologist Earl Douglass discovered the first fossil remains here in 1909 and soon it was recognized worldwide as one of the sites of the most complete assemblage of dinosaur fossils.

Before I encountered the wildfire first hand, I found myself standing in the visitor center learning such facts and marveling at the enormous rock wall in front of me preserving over 1,500 individual dinosaur fossils. This was the exact site of Earl Douglass’ first excavation and now it is enshrined and preserved in the visitor center for all to enjoy.

I had arrived the previous night to a reserved campsite at the Green River Campground in the park, and this morning I got up early to begin my exploration of the park. My first stop was this Quarry Visitor Center. Outside of the sleek 1960s visitor center stands a sculpture of a stegosaurus, popularized by the 1964 World’s Fair (the same one where Walt Disney debuted “It’s a Small World”). After of course not passing up the opportunity to get my photo with a stegosaurus, I walked into the visitor center dressed suitably for the occasion. I had bought myself a tank top on Amazon, specifically for visiting this park, with dinosaurs all over the front of it in neon colors of a 1990s retro style. Throughout the day, nearly everyone I came across complimented me on my dinosaur attire. In the exhibit I had obtained a pamphlet guide which explained which dinosaurs many of the fossils were of. After touring the exhibits, I went back outside to explore this strange land.

I was on the Utah side but left the park to get on highway 40 and cross over into the Colorado side. I passed through the town appropriately named Dinosaur and then re-entered the park at it’s other entrance. I wanted to get the full overview of the park by driving Harper’s Corner Road, the main stretch that runs through the park and incorporates numerous lookout points as it ascends the mountainous plateau and ends at the peninsula which the road is named after. At the Colorado entrance there is another visitor center along with the park headquarters. As I looked around I heard a ranger on a walkie talkie talking about a wildfire. I thought very little of it, since wildfires are commonplace in the West, but I’d later see exactly what he was referring to. When I reached the first overlook I looked out upon a burning expanse. Many thoughts were in my mind. First I was reveling in the novelty of being able to witness such a marvel of nature, second I considered my safety, but then I concluded that I was probably in safe hands with the National Park Service. If there was a threat, the rangers would have closed this road or forced evacuation. Furthermore I’d be traveling away from the fire. So I got back in my car, eager to take in the next view point.

Next I arrived at Escalante Overlook where I looked out from the plateau to see it curving around in the distance. In the middle of it’s beige cliffside, a banner of red rock streaks across the landscape where shrubs and pines burst up. The slide of rocks eventually rolls down to the canyon floor, which is neither level nor consistent but clumsily squeezes itself into whatever crevice the immense landscape provides.

From here the road ascends higher above the plateaus to the mountains, where the landscape opens up to some wild grassland where one can look below and see a valley of grassland among spotted buttes and can so vividly imagine dinosaurs trampling and traversing the land. We as humans are so far removed from Dinosaurs that they almost seem like science fiction. This landscape is the world that has escaped the imagination. To be immersed in it is almost to escape reality for a moment.

After thirty-one miles I reached Harper’s Corner, the highest point in the park at 7,580 feet. I got out of my car for a short and windy hike to the overlook. The view was unparalleled to any other view in any National Park. Strikingly unique, one can gaze down upon a landscape that swirls every which way around the canyon of the Green River. It almost looks alive, like you can imagine just how it would go about moving. Right in front of me was what looked like a giant rock wave frozen in time with ripple after ripple, color after color, and twenty three layers of history. It is undoubtedly an epic view, among the best in the nation. I know that is a bold statement.

As usual, when I am faced with something strikingly unique, I asked, what does this mean? I believe beauty is not wasted. It is designed to speak to us truths about God and life. But nothing. I got nothing. I praised God for his beauty, but I felt him silent. There was a reason for this. The silence of God, the blankness of my thoughts would hold meaning. I would learn about this soon enough.

When I returned to my car the wind was really whipping and I could see a storm brewing in the distance. Rain is what we needed to quench the fires. When I opened my car door, the wind ripped it from my hand, and with my keys still in my hand, I uncontrollably keyed the side of my drivers door. This was not good. Not only did I have the dented hood from the rock falling down at Davis Mountain, but now I’d keyed my car. I was concerned what these damages were going to cost me when I turned the rental back in. It was one more thing to add to my list of misfortunes.

When I got back to my campsite, I noticed a kind neighbor had partially disassembled my tent to shield the top opening from the rain, for the rain had indeed come through the canyon. I was thankful the inside of my tent, sleeping bag, and air mattress were all still dry.

After checking back in at the rained on camp, the thoughts of forest fires had left my mind. I went for an evening hike, the most meaningful of my trip. God would speak to me, a paradigm would shift, a wildfire would be set in my soul that would spread throughout my life, and a great peace would find me because of it.

Read the previous entry “Valles Calderas and the Land of Enchatment,” here: https://joshthehodge.com/2020/09/10/valles-calderas-and-the-land-of-enchantment/

Check out my book Canyonlands: my adventures in the national parks and the beautiful wild here: https://www.amazon.com/Canyonlands-adventures-National-Parks-beautiful/dp/1711397873

Exploring the Uncharted

December 27, 2017December 31, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged manti lasal, moab, utah2 Comments

“There are no maps of that area,” she informed. “I keep asking them to make maps, but I work for the government. We can never get anything done. It’s basically uncharted area, but you are welcome to explore.”

I had stopped by a small visitor center in Monticello, Utah next to the mountains of Manti Lasal National Forest. When I had camped up in the mountains two nights before, in the aspen forest, I had noticed some trails off to the side of the road, surely the visitor center would have some maps, I thought. I was wrong.

She kept repeating herself and was very apologetic. I was a little disappointed until the words “uncharted area” sunk into my mind, and I realized that this was a prime and rare opportunity to explore.

“Thank you,” I replied, walking outside with a skip in my step. I was on the brink of some serious adventure, about to take on uncharted area.

I drove up into the mountains, and pulled over and parked by the lake I had sat and had breakfast by the day before. There was a gate open to the gravel driveway, I made sure to park before passing through the gate, over to the side of the road. I was by no means in a parking spot, but I hadn’t seen a single vehicle up here. I felt pretty confident that my vehicle would be fine.

Unsure of what to expect, I applied mosquito repellent, filled up my hydration pack, and packed away a Clif bar and a long sleeve shirt. I turned on my GPS, walked down alongside the road about a fourth of a mile, and began one of my favorite hikes ever!

It started out as a wide unmarked trail, that had clearly been used for four-wheeler ATVs. The path at times dipped down into the ruts from the tires. Trees were sparse at first, and rock and grass dominated the landscape. The sun was bright and the path was dusty, painting into my memory a landscape of bright warm yellow. Then my memories turn into rich greens and the vibrant white of a young aspen forest. I was fully intrigued. I had been hiking in many types of forests before- in the pine forest of the northeast and the Sierra Nevadas of the West, the subtropical forest of Kentucky and Tennessee, down to the tropics of Florida, but I had never been in an aspen forest.

As silly as it may sound to those so accustomed to aspen, to me it was like stepping into another world. I thought I knew the forest, I thought I knew trees, but here I was with my concept of a forest challenged and expanded. It was an entirely different environment than anything I had ever seen before. I had camped in an aspen forest two nights prior, but it was different to be hiking out in one, noticing the forest floor fully green and covered with thick wispy grass. The branches of the aspen wait to sprout towards the top of the tree, leaving the hikers range of view immense, with a seemingly endless display of tree trunks congregated together.

There was something very calming, comforting, and strangely eerie about the aspen forest. Although I am a fan of all types of forest, typically the forests I venture into have a certain sense of expected mystery about them, because dark, large trunks, obtrusive branches, and wild undergrowth, keep secrets and stories hidden. Typically my view in the forest is limited, for there is so much space for things to be out of sight. But the aspen forest is different. It’s very open. The forest floor is one sheet of wispy grass, everything is visible around these slender trunks, and nothing is hidden and mysterious. Instead, bright and cheerful trunks invite your into the gathering, accepting you as one of the party, but after making acquaintance, and being invited inside, the trees at times can feel like pale white ghosts, only a mirage of a true forest. But then you stop and this is when you listen to their millions of small leaves rattle against each other and sing, telling you that they are alive.

This particular forest I was exploring, was young, so the Aspen’s weren’t very tall, giving me a larger than life feeling. I felt almost like a giant, trampling through a world of my own. I stopped here at the beginning of the aspen forest for maybe a good twenty minutes, taking photos with the trees.

There is something extremely pleasing and satisfying to me in discovering new terrains. Every different type of terrain I explore, challenges and expands my perception of the world. I recall my first experience in a forest of palm trees, walking out on desert plain for the first time, gazing through the ponderosa pines of Yosemite, and looking down into canyon depths. Every time I experience a new type of terrain, the richness of my life increases. It opens new pathways in my mind, to ponder and explore in memory and imagination. It shows me the diverse nature of the creativity of God, and I am simply swept away in blissful wonder and enjoyment.

After my impromptu photo shoot in the aspen forest, I returned to the trail and decided to pick up the pace. The trail eventually came to a fork. It was my goal to summit the mountain before me. There was a sign, and I chose the direction with the name that sounded more like a summit of a mountain to me. I chose the path to my left. Clearly ATV time was over for this path was much smaller. I followed alongside the sound of a stream, which I never could see. It was down in a ravine.

Shortly the forest changed. Tall older aspen mixed with robust ancient pines. Eventually the aspen were left behind and I was in the company of dark, rich, wet pines. The smell was sweet, tremendously pleasing. It smelled like fond memories of Christmas, and soon enough I found snow to accompany the sweet aroma. A mound of unmelted snow rose up mid trail. I was so excited to come upon it. So far on my trip I had been venturing in dry hot desert, even just this morning I was trekking along the red hot rock of Canyonlands National Park. Now here I was in a cool, aromatic pine forest, climbing up a pile of snow. I took snow into my hands and through icy snowballs into the forest.

I felt like I had jumped from summer into winter in the matter of an hour – and not into any gloomy bitter wintertime, but a festive, picturesque, quintessential, Christmasland of sorts.

I checked my GPS. Time was ticking. I was five miles in. Time and distance had passed so quickly. The day was by no means young anymore, evening was upon me. Because I had no map, no insight to these trails, I was unsure where exactly this trail was leading. I couldn’t gage if it would lead to a summit or simply meander around the mountains. I also considered that everything I hiked had to be re-traced, and I did not want to be stuck in uncharted wilderness in the dark. I had a resolution. I would pick up the pace, run through the forest, and at every mile, I would reassess the situation.

My blissful run through the pine forest, took me to an alpine tundra. Trees were left behind, and tundra prairie spread across the mountain. The trail was but a narrow pathway making steep inclines up the mountain. Around me I looked down to dramatic valleys and ravines, with tall pines looking as tiny figures. The excitement propelled me forward at incredible pace.

Around me, every so often, Utah prairie dogs poked their heads out of their burrows as if to check to see if the world around them was still present. I ran past them leaving the trail behind me to summit the top of the world. Reaching the mountaintop was a grand climax as I could look out and see the cavities of canyonlands as a miniature little wonderland below. I was on the cool green tundra, looking down into the hot, dry, desert. The contrast was remarkable. A small cluster of pine trees huddled together just near the summit pointing to the sky but also further drawing out the stark contrast of the pine forest and the beautiful canvas of Canyonlands in the background.

What made this moment all the more exciting and special to me is that I felt like I had truly discovered this place. There were no tourists, no signage, no constructed platforms nor overlooks. It was truly wild, and secret, and entirely a new experience for me.

It would have been enjoyable to have spent more time up here, looking around and taking in the scenery, maybe sitting down and enjoying a moment of quietude, but I knew there wasn’t much time to spare, since I was eight miles up a mountain and wanted to get back before dark.

I stood atop that mountain feeling powerful, invigorated, and accomplished. Then I turned around and ran back down. I was pleased. I had done it. When I set out on the path, I wasn’t sure where I was going, then as I ascended I knew I was getting closer to the top. Doubt had set in at a few times. I was wondering if I would be able to make it to the summit. But I did, and the view not only on the top, but on all my journey to the top, was rewarding.

This mountain and this Aspen forest continue to linger in my mind. It’s a place I couldn’t easily direct anyone to. It’s mine. It’s my secret. My cherished memory. I’ve tried looking at a map and identifying exactly what mountain I summited, but it’s unclear, so it remains only a place I can describe, only a place I understand, and my hike up that mountain was so full of adventure and wonder that it almost seems like a dream- a moment I escaped reality and pulled myself from the troubles of the world to look down on it with solitude and awe.

Hiking on trails alone, as on this one, has never given rise to feelings of loneliness. Although I’ve at times wanted to share beautiful vistas and moments with people, I’ve never been overwhelmed with loneliness. Instead, these moments of solitude remind me that in our lives we all walk a path no one else has trodden. No one will fully understand and no one can ever recount my journey but myself and the one who created me. For each life is uniquely different, made up of different experiences filtered through our own unique perceptions. I imagine that, even in companionship, complete and true understanding of my life, despite how close one may be, can never be reached, for we are limited by our human capabilities. But God knows truly what it is like to walk my path. He has been and is with me the entire way. So in these moments, when I hike alone, I find incredible intimacy with God and comfort in knowing that, even though no one else can fully understand the life I lead, my path in life is not walked alone. He knows it completely, before the dawn of my existence all the way to the end of my days, and He is with my every step in the present to assure me purpose and understanding. In that I find peace.

That evening I quickly ran eight miles down the mountain, speeding like Sonic the Hedgehog. Back at my car, I checked my gps to log the numbers of miles hiked. I was excited to add sixteen miles to the tally. I then turned my car around and went back to Buckboard campground. Two days prior it was a strange forest to me, but now it was understood. I could find comfort in it, my secret apsen hideaway in the mountains. I crawled into True Blue, pulled out my book on the West, and shortly drifted to sleep.

Read the previous entry “Arriving at Black Canyon,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/12/27/exploring-the-uncharted/

Read the previous entry “The Canyons in My Life,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/12/27/the-canyons-in-my-life/

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The Canyons in my Life

December 27, 2017December 28, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged canyonlands national park, life elevated, utahLeave a comment

I looked down over an expanse and saw a whole different world. Perched on its edge, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I would explore its grand expanse and profound depths. For now, the vista in front of me was so massive and colorful that my mind couldn’t take it all in, but I could admire the thousand shades of color, from rich red, to golden orange, pale brown, and deep purple. I entertained thoughts concerning the world below me, all the different nooks and crannies, all the different riverways, and the solitary towers of rock leaving islands in the sky. I could conjure up stories of adventure in the depths and speculate the history of people living in and passing through the narrows. Canyons are rich for the imagination and profound for inspiration.

At just around sunset I started this hike along the canyon rim at Canyonlands National Park. It had been a full day of hiking many trails and covering many miles. I felt accomplished, but I was getting tired and I wanted time to wind down, so just a leisurely stroll along the canyon rim at sunset seemed perfect.

When I go hiking I always end up taking away more than I can imagine, nothing physical, but rather inspiration, reassurance, and healing. Nature has a way of bringing about these things, and I’ve lived enough life to know that nature itself is not some mystical magical entity, but rather I believe nature is a creation designed purposefully to appeal to man and take him to depths of self-actualization and to intimacy with God. Often times when I go hiking alone, I find it to be the perfect time to pause, reflect, and just be in the presence of God. Out in the solace of His natural beauty, it’s sometimes easier to hear God speak. I have seen this evident in my own life in many instances, God uses natural beauty to speak to me. The rocks, the trees, the towering mountains, and canyon depths are designed to have meaning. They are symbols.

As I was hiking along that rim, I was reflecting on my life, trying to pinpoint where exactly in my life I was feeling a corrosive emptiness and deficit, despite my fleeting feelings of accomplishment. I was pouring out to God this discontentment and feeling of inadequacy. This was something that had plagued me for a while. I felt I was just not doing something right, that I wasn’t living up to my potential, and that my character was lacking something.

While I was feeling these heavy emotions, the sun was hidden behind a cloud and therefore the countless canyons of Canyonlands were dark, mysterious, and seemingly bottomless. Lines separating the sections of the canyon were blurred from lack of sunlight. In this moment, suddenly it hit me, the realization that my own life has a number of canyons- deep and dark places where light just doesn’t shine, where the lines are blurred. I wasn’t sure exactly what those canyons were and what was the cause of them, but I knew there were dark places in my life where lines that separate truth from lies had been blurred, places that were corrosive that continued to grow deeper and darker. I asked God to show me the canyons in my life.

Canyons are very interesting things in relation to life. They are cavities in the earth’s surface caused by erosion over time. They are huge but can begin forming by something so simple as just a crack. Water eats away and erodes the trivial into something massive. However other times the impetus for formation is the land itself shifting as plates collide and move. And so the dark places in our lives can form very much like canyons. They may start as something trivial on the surface, a seemingly harmless sin, which over time can erode a person’s life. Sometimes those cracks we aren’t even responsible for, but they are caused by the abuse of others which start to erode our very being. Other times these canyons are formed by major life events, with loss or dramatic changes, when we feel the earth is pulled right out from under us.

As I was reflecting on canyons and their relevance to life, inspired by all the metaphors I could apply to life, suddenly the sun broke through an opening in the clouds. Beams of warm yellow light shot down and reached a number of canyons. The beams of light were situated at just the right angles that they illuminated the deepest canyons. And just like that a number of dark and dreary canyons became strikingly beautiful and awesome, no longer dreary and dark but rich in color and light.

At this moment God spoke to me, not in any audible voice but rather more directly, right to my soul. He told me that he can take the canyons in my life and turn them into something beautiful. Tears began to roll down my face in response to the beautiful parallels God was making and hearing His voice, which had seemed absent in my life for quite some time.

My first response was thankfulness, thankful that God met me here, literally out wandering in the desert. Secondly, I began searching my life for canyons. That evening I wasn’t sure of the canyons in my life, but I was ready to face them. I was inspired to seek change in my life and let God illuminate those dark places in my life.

Since this evening I have been able to identify some canyons in my life. I know one of my most profound canyons is selfishness, which is a complex and sprawling canyon. I am still on a quest to find the rest of my canyons, confront them, and let God’s light transform them into something beautiful. I love how God is transformative and resourceful. He doesn’t let bad experiences and choices in life exist without redemption. God uses the dark places in our lives and illuminates them to bring him glory and fulfill his purpose.

If you are reading this I encourage you to take a hike out in nature and talk to God and ask him to show you your own canyons. I am uncertain of all my canyons, but I know God will lead me to them, and he can lead you to yours too.

I encourage you to try this whether you have faith in God or not. Just go out in nature and reflect on the places in life you need to work on to be a better you- the “canyons”. I pray that on your quest to find your canyons that you encounter God, because I’m telling you, there’s nothing more powerful.

Read the next entry “Exploring the Uncharted,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/12/27/exploring-the-uncharted/

Read the previous entry “Canyonlands and Dead Horses,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/12/27/canyonlands-and-dead-horses/

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Canyonlands and Dead Horses

December 27, 2017December 27, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged canyonlands, canyonlands national park, dead horse, dead horse point, life elevated, moab, utahLeave a comment

One of the reasons why Canyonlands National Park is recollected with such fond memory is that the history here is real and apparent, exceptionally believable and imaginable, as if you can reach out and touch it and bring it back to life. History is something that intrigues me, especially history of the West, of the Cowboys out on the plains with chuckwagons and cattle, pushing themselves to extremes, kicking up dust, and taking with every quench of thirst a side of desert grit- also the natives connecting with the land, battling their rivals in bloody encounters, carving their tales into the rocks around them, forming, creating, and leaving mysteries of their existence. Just days prior to visiting Canyonlands, I began reading the book “The American West,” and here in Canyonlands everything was put in its place, in scene, in context. I was here in the midst of what I was reading. These lands held the routes of the early cowboys, the homes of the Utes and Navajos. They ventured through this rough terrain and endured the harshness of the desert. Still to this day, surrounding the park on many sides are pastures of cattle, modern day cowboys, and Native Americans blending tradition and culture.

When you’re traveling from point A to point B, outside of the park, and pass over many cattle gates and plains stretching with herds, the west of Cowboys and Indians, which has often been elevated to the point of near folklore, is true, embraceable, and able to be seen.

In my wanderings around Canyonlands, I took a short hike long a trail that passed by a rock overhang. In the shelter of the overhang was equipment and items left by cowboys of the past, including tables, trunks, saddles, cups and cans. I remember in that moment, I paused and I tried to imagine the transient life of the cowboy out in these harsh canyonlands of intense heat and dryness. The amount of bravery and perseverance of the cowboys is incredible.

Just next to the boundary of Canyonlands National Park is Dead Horse Point State Park. Here I took a morning jog along the canyon rim, which ended right at the overlook of the Dead Horse Point itself. In front of me was a wild expanse of canyons and an elevated peninsula which the Green River dramatically curves around. The air was dry but the desert was not yet sweltering. Everything around me was painted in vibrant shades or orange, red, and pink. When I was done admiring the scene, I went into the visitor center. “So tell me, what’s with the name Dead Horse?” I asked.

The park employee gladly explained, “cowboys traveled long distances out in the desert with little water. They were very thirsty and their horses even more so. They followed the sound of the river to the outcropping of land you see at the bend of the river. When they arrived There they stood right next to the river but far above it. They could see it and hear it, but had no way to get down to it, and so their horses died, thirsty, looking at the unreachable river.”

In the gift shop I bought a book called “Down the Great Unknown: John Wesley Powell’s 1869 Journey of Discovery and Tragedy Through the Grand Canyon. The employee informed me that there was the John Wesley Powell River History Museum not far away, unfortunately I didn’t have the time to visit.

Although I had debated even stopping at Dead Horse Point State Park, I am glad I did. It compliments Canyonlands National Park and the views of the Canyonlands and Dead Horse Point were alluring and picturesque views. Something very unique about this region is you have Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, Dead Horse State Park, and numerous other parks and natural features all within close distance, with Moab, Utah being the central town, the hub, in the middle.

Back in the National Park I didn’t see much during the day. I was out on a small trail of barren rock faces taking photos over at the beautiful spiky rock formations in the Needles District when an angry looking storm came rolling it. I could see it moving, and see the sheets of rain it carried and the bolts of lightning it send snapping to the ground. In this moment the sky and scenery were perfect for photo taking, but some dust was stuck in my camera lens and I realized the approaching danger of the storm. I quickly satisfied my need to take photos with a few good shots and returned to my car just in time before the downpour. In the West storms are much more frightening, with the knowledge that water is not soaked into the land but rather travels across it, and also because in the desert there is rarely anything taller than your vehicle. So you and your car stand out, exposed, and are in plain site for the storms and all its bouts of lightning. With what I’m used to, a car provides adequate shelter from a storm, but not in these parts. I took more trustworthy shelter in the visitor center.

When I was at Arches National Park, just days prior, I had heard about the Summer storms in the park film, which endangered some of the arches in the park, but I had no way to fully understand them. The land seemed so dry and the sky unyieling to any clouds. Trying to imagine a storm in these parts was difficult. Now, in the midst of one, It was completely understood. This storm just wasn’t any storm. It needed a modifier in front of it. This was a “Summer storm.” But like all Summer storms on these barren planes and canyonlands, it didn’t last long. It came and went, in a quick heated tantrum.

Canyonlands National Park is composed of three districts, each with unique lands features. There is Island in the Sky District, the Needles District, and the Maze District. In the visitor center in the Island in the Sky District I inquired about hiking down into the Needles District I had seen from my hike. The park ranger took out a white binder with photos slid into plastic sleeves. He turned to a specific page and pointed to it. “Well this is the Needles District.” He paused for a moment, as if the photo itself would be a deterrent. It wasn’t. It looked amazing. “There is no cell phone service out there…” Fine with me. He proceeded, “…and GPS devices won’t work in that area from the rocks blocking the signals.” His last piece of information successfully deterred me from exploring the area. I had read online that it was ill-advised to go alone, as all the rock formations which stick up like needles create a maze-like environment, and it’s very easy to get lost. It was advised that you take pictures at turning points in your trail to be able to navigate backs to your starting point. That knowledge paired with the fact that my GPS would not work, resulted in the decisions to not explore the Needles District. I had already been hiking in the area enough to know the heat and dryness was a serious thing. Being lost here could be deadly, and I didn’t want to end up like the horses of Dead Horse Point.

When the rain had resided I made it to Mesa Arch- the most iconic feature in the park. It’s a small rock arch right on the edge of a canyon cliff. It’s not much taller than myself but what makes it so appealing is that it frames the canyonlands behind it perfectly and is positioned at just the right angle that sunlight always brings out color in the landscape, making this location an exceptionally good photo spot at sunrise and sunset. Now, after having visited Mesa Arch, I notice it frequently in screensavers, calendars, and different pieces of publicity. While I was there, a group of young adults from France asked me to take their picture. I had seen them the day before in Arches National Park. There was a small crowd of people gathering, but everyone was very respectful, stepping aside for each other to take their pictures of the arch.

At one point in my day I took a break and went into Moab for lunch. I ate at the Moab Diner, which was a very pleasant experience. I would recommend it to anyone in the area. Not only was the food delicious but the service was unparalleled to anything else. The waiters were extremely attentive, and I must have had my glass of water refilled at least five times without any wait. I had gotten the Kokopelli Chicken Sandwich. It was here I was also able to make the association that Kokopelli is the flute player in the petroglyphs. His image is reproduced all over merchandise and signage in the area. He is a fertility deity and represents the spirit of music. I don’t know much else about Kokopelli, except his chicken sandwich was delectable.

Nearing the end of the day, I returned to Canyonlands to walk to Grand View Point at sunset. This walk would prove to be a pinnacle of self-actualization and discovery on this trip, and will be outlined in my next chapter, but after my hike along the rim, I began driving back to my hideout in the mountains of Manti Lasal. Shortly outside the park I drove by a Bureau of Land Management sign for Horse Thief Campground. Weary from a full days adventure I thought I would check it out and entertain the idea of camping here instead. Sure enough there were campsites available. I decided I’d rather dish out fifteen dollars then drive 60 more miles in the dark back to Manti Lasal. Although my tent was all set up in Manti Lasal, I had my spar tent, Kelty, and an extra sleeping bag in my car. I also had one of my compact camping pillows. I would be alright. I sent up camp there in the flat exposed plain. The sky above me was extremely huge. Clouds were long gone now, and stars filled the sky. I was able to purchase some firewood on the grounds and quickly had a small fire blazing. I was camping, like the cowboys I read about, out on the expansive plains, with the whole sky above me.

I realized here that I could position a flashlight underneed my glow-in-the-dark Nalgeen bottle, and the bottle would disperse the light, creating a calm but sufficient glow by which I could eat a snack and write a few postcards. When my writing was complete, and the air grew cool and hollow, I crawled into my airy tent, pulled out my book on the West, and read to the sound and glow of the fire next to me and the brightness of the unhindered moon and stars above me. I was at peace.

Read the next entry “The Canyons in My Life,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/12/27/the-canyons-in-my-life/

Read the previous entry “Camping in Strange Woods,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/11/12/camping-in-strange-woods/

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Utah, My Love

October 17, 2017October 17, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged capitol reef, capitol reef national park, fruita, life elevated, national parks, utahLeave a comment

Utah is an incredible place. Although it’s a popular place for hikers, in my travels it has often seemed like I’ve had the whole place to myself. On my way to Capitol Reef National Park I hadn’t passed another car in a long time. Civilization was becoming sparse. I was filled with excitement to go to this lesser known National Park.

I first learned about Capitol Reef from the Rock the Park show in which Jack Steward described it as a “gem.” It was an intriguing episode, because the park was portrayed with such a unique balance of history and nature. Jack also described it as “The real wild West.” Growing up in, and always being confined to, the Northeast and Midwest, the wild West always seemed so unreachable and too legendary to bother with making my acquaintance, but here we were, about to meet!

Prior to my arrival, I knew some basics about Capitol Reef. It was a supposed hideout for outlaws, including the infamous Butch Cassidy. It also included a commonly traveled pioneer wagon route and the restored Mormon ghost town of Fruita, situated in an oasis tucked down between the giant rock walls. It was named Capitol Reef after a giant rock feature on top of the Reef, which pioneers thought resembled the U.S. capitol building. I wanted to see it all for myself and was very curious what the “Reef” itself would look like- a 100 mile outcropping of earth pointing to the sky.

The two hour drive from Bryce Canyon to Capitol Reef was very peaceful and marked by tranquility, yet unbridled anticipation. I was driving down the long wavy landscape, swooping down and rolling up to see new marvels at each crest. I had gotten another early start as to be able to secure a campsite in Fruita. As I was traveling down the open roads, the morning sun was still waking up, slowly peering over mountainous deserts and lush fields of the remote Utah farmland. The temperature was brisk and in the lower fifties. The sun didn’t seem to be in a hurry but stretched casually, illuminating the beauty around it, turning dark grey areas to vibrant oranges and greens. As I approached the park, red giants stood up all around me. They announced their existence boldly and reached dramatically into the sky- some layered with colors, others monotone. Between the road and these giants were just fields of sand and rocks mixed with typical desert shrubs. It very much reminded me of the landscape in Disney Pixar’s original Cars movie. It felt like in any minute I’d be pulling up to Radiator Springs.

The Reef itself jutted diagonally up into the skype, as an immense rock ledge. In the park film, I learned that it is believe it was formed by plates of land colliding, pushing one plate up into the air, creating this massive wrinkle in the earth’s crust.

I was traveling alone. Dom had taken off in a different direction. He had forgotten to pack his camera battery and had found a place online in Moab, Utah that sold it. He was going to seek that out. When I rolled into the park, I passed the small visitor center and headed straight to Fruita. I didn’t have much pick of a site, because the campground was small and many sites were taken.

The whole campground was flat and had a mix of green grass and desert dust. It was all fenced in, so it did not have much of a wild feel. Roads were paved, sites plainly arranged. It was a very civilized campground, yet very scenic, because it was tucked away between giant red walls situated in small and picturesque Fruita. I chose a site in the front left corner of the campground. I quickly set up camp. Knowing I would stay a few days, I decided I would rest spaciously in True Blue. I then purchased some firewood from the campground host and headed back to the visitor center, as always to watch the park film, purchase a pin and sticker, and ask a ranger for hiking recommendations, despite already having an agenda. I then hit the park road.

The first hike on the agenda was to Cassidy Arch. It was a 6.6 mile round-trip hike. The trail arrived at a place believed to be a hideout spot for the infamous criminal it’s named after. To get there I drove on a extremely scenic dusty dirt road in an expansive area between enormous rock walls where my little rental car kicked up a large trail of dusty clouds. I stopped at numerous spots to take pictures. The giants walls, and bold rock formations around me, made me feel so small and as if my car was just a spec of dust. I had never seen anything like this. I carefully maneuvered my car around some sharp turns, paying attention to the location of my tires, making sure they didn’t fall into any ruts or run over any sharply protruding rocks.

I came to a dirt parking-lot. There were maybe a dozen other vehicles that had ventured out here. I got out of my car, took off my shirt to cover myself in sunscreen, and made sure my Camelbak was at its water holding capacity. The sun now was fully awake and wasn’t holding anything back. It was raw, sharp, and felt closeby, without any filter. I began my hike on a river wash, and shortly took a turn left to start ascending, hiking between a multitude of fallen rocks and desert shrubs. I remember looking up in amazement, wondering why I had not heard more about this place. It reminded me of the awe and grandeur of looking over Yosemite Valley, just in a different color. Mountains rolled around in every direction and rocks abruptly and strikingly reached up into the sky. The reds, oranges, browns, and even whites were layered, and at other times they swirled around.

I remember looking across the distance in awe and thanking God for the adventure and acknowledging his awesome creativity. The more places I visit and new landscapes I see, the more I get to know God, as I observe the creative expressions He has poured himself into.

As I was ascending from the canyon along this path, which hugs and meanders around cliff edges, a group of three young teenage boys passed me…and then I passed them. This became a pattern until it started to become a bit awkward. I decided to let them establish a lead, as I knew I’d be stopping many times to take pictures.

As the trail reached higher ground, much of it was on open exposed rock face, and the only way to know where I was going was to look for cairns. Some were small and inconspicuous, so my eyes were constantly scanning in all directions, and a few times I had to trace my steps backward to find the cairn.

After 3.3 miles, I reached Cassidy Arch. There was one family there, and separate from them a group of about 10 boys and a couple of men. I quickly figured out that it was a Boy Scout group that had beat me here. How cool it would be to take a Boy Scout excursion to Capitol Reef! Anyone that lives in Utah is spoiled with exquisite landscapes. Utah is my wonderland and favorite state. I was able to recruit a Boy Scout leader to take my photo with Cassidy Arch behind me. I then sat down and rested there at the end of the trail, on the open rock face, facing the arch. Here I was having already seen Saguaro, the Navajo Nation, Horseshoe Bend, and Bryce Canyon, yet my adventure was still young. I already felt accomplished, yet there was much more to see and adventure to be had. Here in Capitol Reef, tucked away in Utah, I truly felt off the grid, away from it all, hidden, just like the outlaws. I had escaped the troubles of my world and was free. As always Utah makes me feel at home. Although some may dread the heat of the desert, Utah to me has always felt comforting.

I have noticed many times, hiking in Utah, that my skin, after being exposed to the summer sun, takes on the same color of much of the rock. Utah is a place in which I could go camouflaged. It reminds me of the piece of scripture that says God formed man out of the dust of the earth. If God were to have formed me out of the dust of this earth, he picked up a scoop of Utah and molded me, and maybe that is why I love the Utah landscape so much- maybe coming to Utah is in some ways, coming home.

I let this sink in, as I sat there facing Cassidy Arch. I felt that making acquaintance with Capitol Reef was more than a mere polite gesture. Capitol Reef had spoken. “Welcome…” it said, “…just make yourself at home.” And so I did.

Check back for my account of hiking to the Pioneer Register in Capitol Reef!

Read the previous entry “Recollection and Wonder,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/10/14/recollection-and-wonder

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Recollection and Wonder

October 14, 2017October 17, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged bryce canyon, bryce canyon national park, lifeelevated, national parks, utahLeave a comment

Most of my memory of Bryce Canyon is painted in warm shades of orange and dressed in a whimsical fashion, with forest animals trampling around and everything being just about right. Bryce Canyon is a lasting deep breathe of fresh air that will remain vividly captured in my memory. No other park comes close to capturing its unique combination of forest, desert, and hoodoo wonderland. I will long for it’s hot dry sunny days and cool refreshing star-filled nights, where the air feels hollow and easy to breath, perfectly accommodating the camping visitor.

On this second day in Bryce Canyon, I began with a hike. Dom did not join because he needed to seek internet and complete homework for a class he was taking- a very unfortunate circumstance I must say. I began my hike on the Queen’s Garden Trail and continued on the Navajo Loop. The trails were narrow and crowded. Many people were enjoying the wonders of Bryce Canyon. At a few turns in the trail, I had to wait on people in front of me. The trails wound around many hoodoos, shimmied through slot canyons, and passed under natural arches, all in manageable 2.7 mile hike.

I’m not sure if it’s the names of the trails such as “Queen’s Garden” and “Fairyland Loop” that influence my perception, but Bryce Canyon does remind me in a roundabout way of Alice in Wonderland, in part because of such colorful geological oddities and it’s trails meandering and twisting around in such a whimsical fashion to arrive at a singular spot. A sense of wondrous suspense accompanied me on these trails, for I never knew what was around each bend and twist in the trail, what seemingly impossible geological feature would stand before me, or what colors would so strikingly comprise the landscape.

During my morning hike, I came to a bend in the trail where a squirrel stood upright, poised on two feet, as if waiting to draw the attention from the hikers. It looked different than the typical squirrels we have in the Midwest. I later learned that it was a golden-mantled ground squirrel. The way it was poised looked as if it was accustomed to posing for pictures. It wasn’t the least bit concerned by my proximity. It didn’t budge as I knelt down to take it’s picture. It was just the sort of adorable woodland creature one would expect to find in such a whimsical place. Squirrel pictures always run the risk of being commonplace but this turned out to be one of my most memorable photos from this park. It is important to note, that approaching wild squirrels is not advisable, and if done, should be done with caution. Some squirrels in the National Parks of the West can become aggressive.

I recall the prior summer, when I was in Zion, another National Park not too far away, I was short on time and was in a hurry to get to the trailhead of the famous Narrows. There was heavy slow-moving traffic on the pathway because a group of Asian tourists were enthralled at the sight of squirrels and were all trying to take pictures of the creatures. I was annoyed. It’s just a squirrel, I thought. But when you are more carefree and have the time, I now understand the pleasure in stopping, not to smell the roses, but to admire the squirrels.

After the photoshoot with the squirrel, I continued on my hike, passing large thin hoodoos towering above as if enormous fins to guide the planet through the galaxy. As the canyon narrowed to almost a slot canyon, a pine tree strikingly stood grounded, reaching for the sky, a location where many travelers have taken photos.

The last leg of the hike included dozens of short switchbacks out of the canyon. Despite being man-made, these switchbacks are one of the more iconic features of the park. I’d seen them before from various photographers, and they appeared in Greg MacGillivray’s film, National Parks Adventure. As I was ascending, I captured a scene that will stick with me forever. An elderly couple most likely in their eighties were ascending the dozens of switchbacks. They walked extremely slow, just shy of shuffling, slowly but determined. At the curve of a switchback, the husband, reached out his hand to help his wife ascend the steep incline. I simply watched in amazement. Their actions spoke a lot. Though moving extremely slow, they didn’t let their age nor weakness stop them from adventure. The husband reaching out to help his nearly crippled wife ascend and round the curve, was precious, speaking of the love and dedication he has for her. I’m certain they had no awareness of my presence and observations. It goes to show that the simplest and most ordinary of your actions can have a lasting impression on others.

I wondered how many adventures this couple had gone on before. Were they seasoned park explorers, just continuing to do what they love and not letting old age stop them, or was this because they had not gotten out when they were younger, so now they decided to see what they could? I prefer to entertain the first and imagine this couple held tons of adventure stories and a wealth of experience, and nothing would stop them from having more adventures.

Back on the high ground, I got in my car and decided to drive the length of the park and get a complete feel for the place. The park was very simple with one main road that traverses the expanse of the canyon rim and numerous spots one can pull over to take in beautiful vistas of the canyon expanse. The road climbs up into brisker, more densely wooded areas and extends all the way to Yovimpa Point, which during this visit was closed due to repair.

After my self guided tour, I drove back to the general store to attempt to take a shower again. It was a success. However, I forgot a towel, but it wasn’t much of a problem. The climate was so dry, that I quickly dried off. There is nothing more refreshing than stepping out of the shower into a hot but dry climate. The air feels amazing engulfing the skin, and I feel totally refreshed. After my shower I then bought myself another piece of pizza and a Greek yogurt from the general store. After enjoying these on the porch, I drove to the Bryce Canyon Lodge, picked up a couple postcards and found a quiet nook near the lobby. I was surprised to find Dom there, working on his homework. I told him about the trails I hiked and the beautiful drive and then sat down to write my postcards. I wrote on a panoramic postcard to my parents and then wrote to two other postcard buddies.

When both Dom and I came to completion of our tasks, I had convinced Dom to go on the park drive. I accompanied him, having enjoyed it so much the first time. I’m glad I did go a second time and was able to share the experience with Dom. Dom had an SUV he had borrowed from him mom, and he had the thing full of gear for a summer of adventure. His plan was similar to mine, to road trip and explore the great American West. His trip was less planned than mine. I had campsites reserved for every night, and even had Plan As and Plan Bs for part of my trip. Dom was more carefree, willing to travel wherever the winds swept him or the roads led him. One notable thing he had in the SUV was a drone. Dom is really into photography and the latest in technology and was hoping to catch some great drone pictures along the way. Drone use, however, is prohibited in most National Parks, but he did tell me how he sent it in flight at Horseshoe Bend- a few days before. When it was out above the river in the canyon, it ran out of battery power and started plummeting towards the Rio Grande. Moments before impact, it had a spike of energy and was able to be flown back to safety. What a scare!

As I was ascending the canyon rim a second time with Dom, I really took in the stark contrast between the two sides of the road. One side of the road boasted the Bryce Canyon and all it’s golden orange display. The other side was all thick pines, dark green, no orange, looking like the forest of the northwest.

Along the drive, Dom and I got out of the SUV at numerous viewpoints, but eventually decided we wanted to race the clock and get back to the main section of the park to Sunset Point before sunset. We failed. We arrived at Sunset Point just moments late. Both of us wanted to arrive there at sunset for different reasons. Dom wanted to take pictures, and I wanted to be there because I read in the park newsletter how Stephen Mather, the first director of the National Park Service, sat at this point admiring the canyon at sunset and here decided he wanted to protect this as a National Park. I wanted to put myself in his perspective and gaze upon the canyon at sunset, looking at it with the same value and admiration Mather did.

Despite having missed the sunset, the view was still gorgeous, and the canyon was painted deep orange and dark purples. Opposite the canyon the sky was bright pink with the silhouettes of tall pines on displayed. Dom started talking to another photographer- all in technological terms, beyond my ammature understanding. I wandered off and lost Dom, but eventually we were reunited at the SUV, and headed back to camp.

At camp I roasted some slices of ham lunch meat over the fire and cooked a can of corn at the fire’s edge. Dom was hoping all during the day that he would get to see a Utah Prairie Dog, an endangered species only present in Bryce Canyon out of all the National Parks. Despite his desire, he had no luck. The following morning I had success, but the creatures were easily startled and too fast to be captured by photograph.

Sitting around the campfire this second night, was our last night in Bryce Canyon National Park. This National Park visit was quintessential, beautiful, challenging, calming, and now I have stored up in my mind a previously unimaginable landscape to explore again in recollection and wonder.

Check back as I move onward in my adventure to Capitol Reef National Park!

Read the next entry “Utah, My Love” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/10/17/utah-my-love/

Read the previous entry “Journey on the Fairyland Loop,” here: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2017/07/30/my-journey-on-the-fairyland-loop/

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My Journey on the Fairyland Loop

July 30, 2017October 14, 2017Posted in UncategorizedTagged bryce canyon, bryce canyon national park, fairyland loop, lifeelevated, national parks, utahLeave a comment

“I just can’t go on any longer,” I told myself. This was definitely not the positive self talk I needed to get myself through this hike. This trail seemed longer, hotter, and more draining than I had imagined. I mean, after all, how treacherous can a trail named “Fairyland Loop” be? It sounds so dainty.

It was a ten miles hike. I knew this, but somehow in the excitement of being here in Bryce Canyon National Park and meeting up with my friend Dom, I had forgot two essential things, sunscreen and a sufficient amount of water. On top of this, I had already fallen into the canyon onto a cactus. This trail experience was a little rough, but it was also amazing, and I’d do it all again, given the opportunity.

The name Fairyland Loop is quite appropriate for such a trail, because it’s such a fanciful, other worldly, colorful trail, with bizarre rock formations and hoodoos around every winding turn.

Hoodoos are columns of rocks that are soft, (if we can consider rocks soft for a moment ), but these formation have a hard capstone protecting the towers of rocks from complete erosion. They stick up like pillars and are a rather rare geological feature. I have seem them in Arizona and Kentucky also, but not to the the extent to which they are present in Bryce Canyon. This park is known for them and they are everywhere. The Fairyland Loop wanders around the base of many hoodoos and descends to the base of the canyon. The descent has one walking by sections of bright white sand and soft orange rocks. It meanders around the canyon floor, through sparse pine forest, and at one point passes by Window Arch, an iconic feature of the park- a window of erosion through a large rock protrusion, which looks like a fanciful piece of planned architecture.

As we hiked along the canyon floor, Dom and I talked a lot about teaching. We are both public school teachers, but in different states, myself in Kentucky and him in Indiana. We were talking about things most people find thrilling, such as state requirements for certification, teacher evaluation methods, and professional development in our districts.

Bryce Canyon, and particularly this trail, is a very charming place. It evokes such a unique feeling from any other National Park. Inside the canyon after getting over the possibility of encountering a mountain lion, I felt sheltered and protected, as if this was a place I belonged in. The warm colors of the rock were inviting, the pines relaxing. In many ways it was like walking through and being a part of a very fine piece of artwork. It all seemed so intentional, designed to soothe the soul and fold me up in the arms of the Creator.

As kind as my description may be, then some realities set in. As we began to ascend an island out in the canyon, the sun was beating harshly, and I realized I forgot to apply and pack sunscreen. The hot sun was stinging my skin. I had a light hoodie in my backpack, and although considering the heat it wouldn’t be preferable, I put it on the hoodie and stretched the hood over my head to protect me from the sun. It sufficed.

We then came to the top of the rock island and hiked out to a small peninsula. A few pines stood to provide shade, and short shrubbery blanketed most of the ground. Here we gazed onto another iconic feature of the park- The Sinking Ship. In the distance before us, a protrusion of land dipping into the canyon sinks backward creating a convincing image of a sinking ship. The formation was named very appropriately and was definitely worth the hike.

At this point of the hike I was beginning to wear out, and so I had a seat on the peninsula. I explained to Dom how it would be such a great place to camp- a place of remote isolation, nice shade and beautiful views in all directions.

Unfortunately we could not camp here, we had to continue one. The trail slithered around some narrow passes down, up, and around the canyon. On this final leg of the trip I ran out of water. I had only brought with about a liter and probably needed about three liters. The National Park Service advises in arid climates to be prepared with a liter per hour.

Finally, after about 8 miles, the trail guided us back on the canyon rim, where the main infrastructures of the park lie -the entrance, visitor center, lodge, roads, overlooks, and campgrounds. It was still a two mile hike back to our campground. I was extremely weary. The fact that this was my first major hike this trip at high elevation contributed to this exhaustion. I don’t think my body was ready for it. It had not adjusted, and the realization of this was the moment when the thought creeped in, “I just can’t do this anyone.”

My hiking pace began to slow down dramatically, and I was forcing my body to continue. Dom also expressed his tiredness. He was in all the same forgetful predicaments as myself, but he plowed on, leaving me literally in the rocky dust. I needed a break. I sat down on the canyon rim with my legs hanging over the end, resting on a slope of rock slide which fell beneath the stance of some large hoodoos. I casually pushed some rock with my feet, listening to a pleasing pinging hollow sound as the small rocks and pebbles clanked into the hoodoos. I did this a couple of times until I realized I was abusing the landscape and needed to let things be. I also wasn’t sure if there were other hikers below. I didn’t want to be showering them with rocks and knocking them out. I picked myself up and hiked some of the longest two miles of my life along the rim back to camp.

This predicament of exhaustion was ironic, because I had secretly passed major judgement on Dom thinking he was ill equipped and lacked the experience for this hike. So it was fitting and justified that he left me behind and crossed the finish line before me. My pride needed to be humbled.

Once back at camp I drowned myself in some Gatorade and then water. We had anticipated taking showers and drove to the general store within the park where the coin showers were located. However, they had just closed up shower access for the day. The general store was in a log cabin type structure and was well equipped with food and supplies. I enjoyed a piece of everything pizza and a Chobani yogurt. I sat the the porch out front for a minute and took in the peacefulness of the evening.

Back at camp I organized my trunk. On this trip I was living out of my rental car, and most everything was organized in a specific location in the trunk. Clothes were in the far rear organized in piles. To the right was the camping section of all tents flashlights, and other gear. To the left was the “kitchen”- where extra storage bags, paper towels, and canned food items resided. Behind the clothes was my suitcase, which only contained things I did not need immediate access to. On top of that was the main food storage unit- a thin plastic tub filled with nuts, dried berries, and protein and granola barns. On top of that was a backpack which served as electronic department, with my Chromebook, spare batteries, cords, and cameras. I had this down to a science. Going on a camping trip and not being organized doesn’t work well for me, because I end up spending so much time looking for things around the car or not realizing all I have with me. Everything needs to have a place and be ready to be accessed on demand.

After I got organized, I built a campfire with Dom as the sun slipped below the horizon. We sat there by the fire with a sense of accomplishment from hiking the Fairyland Loop and having our vehicles organized. I was ready to make s’mores but discovered my chocolate had completely melted to liquid. First Dom cooked his rice dish and I cooked my pizza pockets. Then we then made our chocolateless s’mores as the stars began to make their bright appearance and campers retired for the night. Tomorrow we would explore more of Bryce Canyon. (Note: pizza pockets do not taste very good cooked over a fire)