Minimizing again

I don’t remember when I bought my 20 liter Marmot backpack. I certainly wasn’t into hiking or backpacking at the time. I think I originally got it to use with my motorcycle. Maybe. I don’t know. Old man memory loss.

Anyway, it’s a good pack but larger than I need for my short hikes. I really only need a hydration pack with room for snacks and a few emergency items. And since that Marmot wasn’t designed for a water bladder, the 3 liter bladder I bought flops over and strangles itself when it’s half empty (which I guess is one way to judge how much water I have left).

So I stopped at Utah Canyon Outdoors in Escalante to see if they had a pack that would better suit my needs. I came away with the 10 liter Gregory you see on the right. It’s half the size but still holds 3 liters of water. It also has fewer pockets—and pockets inside pockets inside pockets—where I can misplace things. And the bright blue is a happier color than the somber, masculine gray of the Marmot.

I’m keeping the Marmot, though. I’ll probably need it someday for a more involved hike. In the meantime I’ll use it to store the Gregory.

Fixed that problem

Last October I realized the plug on my portable fan had come apart. I acquired a replacement plug but never got around to connecting it, because the weather cooled off and I didn’t need the fan.

I found that replacement plug the other day while looking for something else. Oh. Yeah. I should finally fix that, what with summer on its way. It’s not an elegant repair, but it works. Someday I’ll do a proper job with solder and heat shrink.

Brrrr...

It was downright cold this morning. And the sun was barely up. That meant digging out the winter wear. Gloves were going to make camera operation difficult, and since I had no advanced intelligence on Cottonwood Narrows I decided to just take my phone. Darn, I wish I had used the better gear. I could’ve re-hiked the canyon, but the light had changed, spoiling the mood.

Most geologically interesting trailhead parking lot yet

It annoys me when clichés are accurate

I proudly imagine myself to be one of those who doesn’t fit the mold. I mean, look at me, I live in a van, fer cryin’ out loud. So I sigh and gnash my teeth a little when some overused bit of pop wisdom applies to my uniqueness. 

No! I’m different! I’m original! I’m quirky! My truths can’t be summed up in a threadbare aphorism!

But sometimes I have to hang my head and admit, yeah, okay, that fits me. Ew, it makes me feel so… ordinary.

Current case in point:

The adventure begins where your comfort zone ends.

There I was, driving along a sketchy dirt road into the heart of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument—a huge uninhabited area, sort of the middle of the middle of nowhere—when I realized my quest for interesting hiking trails had taken me out of my comfort zone. Several times. Rats. But yay! The braver side of me has been gradually beating the fearful side of me into submission. And it has been fun.

Off into the beautiful desolation I go, clichés be damned.

A short one

Willis Creek is on Skutumpah Road, which is very sketchy in places and only a little sketchy in others. This little slot canyon might not be much, but the driving experience and skills gained getting there were probably worth it. The Rolling Steel Tent continues to impress me with the terrain it's able to handle.

No playing outside today

It had been windy and sort of cold all night. I spent the morning draped in my down quilt, editing the Hackberry Canyon video. 

It was still very windy when I finished, and I just didn’t want to deal with it. Not good hiking weather—at least for me. Not even good tall vehicle driving weather. 

I found other things to do within the confines of the Rolling Steel Tent. Who says  approximately 325 cubic feet is too small to live in?

Even though I don’t much enjoy walking on sand

Drive even farther from civilization on a road labeled "Impassible When Wet?" Okay.

Hike a mile or so in loose sand? Okay.

Discover a lovely spot by a creek with towering cliffs? More than okay.

And my pal, Lou, performed the music.

This ’ll do

I had planned on camping in a meadow, with large cottonwood trees, next to Mammoth Creek, just outside Hatch, Utah. This place.

Alas, there was a chain across the access road. So, what other sure-thing camping spot did I know of in the area? Well, there’s the place on the way to Bryce Canyon, off Toms Best Spring Road. I had stayed there a couple of times before.

So here I am, back at the exact same site as last time. Among the pines at about 7,800 feet. It’ll be nippy tonight. But very quiet.

Wire Pass + Buckskin Gulch

Buckskin Gulch is a very popular hike in southern Utah, northern Arizona. It’s also, at 45 miles, one of the longest slot canyons on the planet. But I’m not a long distance hiker nor an overnighter. At least not yet. So I just sampled Buckskin Gulch. Wire Pass is one of the ways to get into Buckskin Gulch. I managed to not twist an ankle.

Putting the 'sand' in sandal

I walked in the creek because it was the trail. Then I walked in the sand because it was the trail. My waterproof sandals aren’t sand proof.

An old fart meets and old fart on the trail

Part way into a couple of recent hikes, where the footing got dicey or the grade got steep, or both, I started wondering if I’d committed to more than I could handle. Should I keep going or turn around here? Is this trail only for those younger people I see scampering up sand hills and hopping rock to rock? Are the people who rated these trails barely old enough to drink?

But then I’ll see fellow old farts coming the other way. I don’t know how far they went, but it’s farther than where I am at the moment. And I see people who look like the farthest they’d ever walked before was from the sofa to the fridge and back. If they can do it, so can I. So I press on. And feel better about myself because I did.

So many ways for us old folks to misstep

Catching up, sort of

What happens when I hike nearly every day? And shoot a lot of video? And take a lot of photos? And plan the next hike? I get behind on things.

Since my last post about the short walk up on Kolob Terrace I’ve hiked Wire Pass and some of Buckskin Gulch, did the quick Toadstools hike (because, what the heck, the trailhead was right on the highway), and hiked some of Lower Hackberry Canyon.

So here are some sample photos. Videos are in the works. 

Buckskin Gulch

Toadstools

Lower Hackberry Canyon

Morning stroll

Here’s a tip if you want to boondock near Zion National Park and also escape the heat and see some incredible views. From the village of Virgin, drive up Kolob Terrace Road, through a couple of corners of Zion National Park, to the end at Kolob Reservoir. 

There’s free dry camping along the shore. You won’t be alone, but they’re mostly quiet anglers. The water was low when I was there, creating more room for camping.

UPDATE: Camping at Kolob Reservoir is now restricted.

After a peaceful night I was heading back to civilization and a cell signal when I decided to pull into one of the trailheads. I hadn’t researched these trails but I knew most of them were of the more serious type, some requiring rappelling and wading, along with more strength and endurance than a 69-year-old novice like me. 

But I decided to walk a little way to learn what the deal was and flex my legs. The path was easy and mostly flat for the first half mile of lightly wooded terrain. I turned around when the trail dropped into a gorge. Back at the trailhead, people who looked like models in Outdoor magazine were loading packs with ropes and wetsuits. Yeah, not my thing. Besides, I learned later I should’ve had a permit.

I’ll turn around here

My favorite hike so far

Monotony

Monday I climbed approximately fifty feet by way of a series of paved switchback ramps. About a third of the way along it became drudgery.

Wednesday I climbed approximately fifty feet up into a geologic formation by way of a vague foot path through sand, gravel, rocks, and boulders. It was fun the entire way.

I had to find and navigate the route—onto this rock… around that bush… across this sketchy gravel patch… squeeze between this boulder and the cliff face… boost myself onto that ledge… side step along here… find a foothold there… It was steeper and more difficult than Monday’s ramp, but it was mentally and physically engaging. It was a little test, not a chore.

We know repetitive stress can mess us up physically. But repetition can also mess up our minds. Doing the same thing over and over and over—whether difficult or easy—numbs the brain. Dumbs the brain. Makes us robotic—sometimes to the point we don’t realize we’ve become meat-based Roombas. We only know there’s a lot of drudgery. And an endless supply of dust bunnies. Such were my fifties. 

Then my sixties arrived, along with awareness and a craving for change. Better late than never. No more trudging up the ramp of respectability and expectability to… what? More of the same?

I jumped the railing and scrambled away.