Throughout our journey, we’ve had to modify our plans around Ruthie, and we’ve done so happily, since one of our goals was to give her the best of what time she has left. Another one of our goals was to see as many National Parks as possible, and in Southern Utah those two desires collided.
From our base in Cedar City, we were 77 miles from Bryce Canyon National Park, and just 20 miles from Zion National Park, two places that were high on our list of must-do experiences. They were places Susan’s parents had really enjoyed and, because of that, they had an emotional pull, too.
Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument and Capital Reef National Park were also on our radar, but after much discussion we came to the conclusion we couldn’t do everything or we’d end up frazzled and exhausted…again. So Bryce and Zion were “it.”
But not so fast.
Before we visit a place (usually months or, in some cases, years) we do our research. When it came to Zion, however, we’d dropped the ball. In some places, rules changed with the pandemic and, from March to November, Zion can only be visited via shuttles. No-dog shuttles.
The single exception was Zion’s Kolob Canyons on the north end of the park, and with that, the plan fell into place.
Bryce Canyon contains the largest collection of hoodoos in the world, and while we’d seen a LOT of canyons over the past weeks, this one promised something different. Even before we reached the park, we passed through the ridiculously gorgeous Red Canyon on Scenic Byway 12, which almost would have been enough on its own.
From the Badlands in North Dakota to Utah’s magnificent landscapes, we’ve repeatedly said, “How did that happen?” The short answer is, wind, water, and time. The longer answer in Bryce is, its distinctive formations began as flat rock on an ancient sea bed, uplift of land that created plateaus, which then weathered into “walls” with vertical gaps between them, then into “windows” (big holes in the rock, like we saw in Arches), and finally into the oddly-shaped, sticky-uppy hoodoos we see today.
Each of the park’s overlooks offered a different perspective:
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A pathway leads to the floor of the Amphitheater, but with temperatures at the summit in the 90sF, neither of us were prepared to endure the heat in the canyon.
We were put to shame when we caught sight of a bride and her groom hiking back up, with a photographer in tow. Anyone who has ever worn a wedding gown knows what a feat this was for the bride.
Kolob Canyons in Zion National Park was even more straightforward. An easy drive, entry with our America the Beautiful pass, and we were in. But only for three miles, as the scenic-drive road in the park was damaged due to a weather-related rock slide.
It was a very limited way to appreciate Zion, but sometimes that’s how it goes, and with all the rock walls we’d seen in Utah, life was still worth living.
The next day we pointed Nippy north for a trip to Parowan Gap, a wind-and-water-created hole through a mountain that was used by Native Americans who left their stories etched into the deep crimson walls. And it was these petroglyphs that drew us to the area.
Other than three kids on motorbikes racing down the road, the gap was absolutely still and silent. We clambered around enjoying the petroglyphs, wondering at their meaning, and, in that stillness, it was easy to imagine nomadic tribes pausing to rest, play, soak up the beauty, and go about their daily lives.
As we stood admiring a particularly large set of petroglyphs, the most haunting, soul-stirring sounds of an ancient flute melody gently caressed the breeze, and for a moment we could imagine it was an echo of the people who used the area for a thousand years.
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Instead, it was Michael. Michael comes to the gap now and then to play his hand-carved flute, because, he says, he likes the acoustics.
The spirits of those who once passed through here like Michael’s playing, and he has had several encounters with them, he told us. It was easy to believe. Even Simon, who holds no particular belief in such things, agreed there was something special –and spiritual – happening in the gap.
I’m tempted to stop this blog here, and just bask in the memory of such an extraordinary experience. We did have a rather startling return trip that included an unexpected climb up a mountain range to a ski resort town called Brian Head (elevation 10K+) and a journey through Cedar Breaks National Monument…
…but let’s just let the memory of the flute music sooth us into a happy stupor, and call it a day.
Veness Travel Media 