Quick thoughts for today:
(1) Monument Valley - pretty.
(2) Goblin Valley - hot.
(3) Little Wild Horse Canyon - skinny. And 4 times longer than we expected.
(4) Don't always trust your GPS - it may be trying to kill you.
Okay, long version follows:
We left Bluff, Utah this morning, started the drive into Monument Valley, which is just over the border in Arizona. Travelling into Monument Valley is yet another one of Utah's many impressive drives.
Monument Valley park is operated by the Navajo, and yes, admission fees are charged per person. However, you get considerably more bang for your $5 at Monument Valley than you do with your $3 at Four Corners. (Yes, Stephen is still bitter.) Once you get into the valley, you can opt for group or personalized Jeep tours, or you can drive through on your own.
The roads are very rough, so it's slow going (15 mph, and that doesn't feel too slow when you're bouncing over rocks or sliding down a sandy slope), but because the scenery is so spectacular, you don't mind the slower pace. There's 11 stops on the circuit, and at John Ford Point, I happily forked over $2 to have my picture taken on Pistol, the 27-year-old horse. :-) Yay, horsey!
Monument Valley has a very nice visitor centre, with a restaurant overlooking the valley, and now a new hotel where all the rooms face the valley as well. Would be spectacular at sunset. And pricey, I imagine.
I'm not much of a jewelry person, but in the gift shop, I saw a beautiful necklace - it had little segmented pieces that made up a scene of pueblos at night with a starry sky background. I knew I shouldn't even ask, but I did. How much? $5,000. Ouch; that's a bit out of my price range. Well, I was in luck, because it was on sale - 40% off. Which put it somewhere around $3,000. Um... let me check my wallet. Nope, I don't seem to have that much in here. Never mind, I'll go buy a magnet.
After that, we drove back to the town of Mexican Hat, where we decided to fill up with gas as we were driving into the desert, and there aren't any towns on the road for the next few hours. We head down Highway 261 past the Valley of the Gods, and the road is heading straight towards this huge wall of mesas. Huh. We keep getting closer. Does the highway go around? No, it doesn't. It goes over.
You know how I said that when you drive up into Mesa Verde, that you're clinging to the cliff sides? Well, in Mesa Verde, those were real paved roads, with lines and guard rails and everything. THIS is clinging to the side of a mountain. This is a gravel road, no guard rails, switchbacks and hairpin curves, all with horrendous drops right next to the car, and giant round boulders perched precariously overhead. In Arches, I was never afraid of the boulders falling down on me. Here, we were a little bit afraid. "Stay," we command the big rocks, and fortunately they obey.
It is an amazingly scenic route, although it does give you that feeling of "eeurghhh" as you look over the edge and see the heights. Thankfully, we didn't encounter anyone driving down, because I'd hate to have to squeeze past another vehicle on that road. And imagine driving it in the dark – eek!
Then, when we finally reached the top of the mesa, it was all greenery and happy plateau land. You'd never know there was a cliff side anywhere at all. The only thing we passed was a ranger station.
Long drive through several canyons. Fry's Canyon, with its amusingly named landmarks (such as Box-Cheese Butte and Jacob's Chair). Glen Canyon, which seems to be a park, and it has at least some water somewhere out there.
We're heading towards Goblin Valley State Park, with the San Rafael desert on the one side, and the San Rafael Swell (where the land is being pushed up) on the other side. The GPS is warning us that we need to turn in one mile. "Where's the road?" I wonder. Usually, there are signs when you're approaching a junction. But not this time. We turn where the GPS tells us to. There's a gated road – the gate is tied with rope, with a note to re-tie the gate when you pass through. On the other side, a red dirt road leads off towards a butte, and a sign says "Molly's Castle."
Stephen and I stare at the gate and the tumbledown road. Um... I know that state parks are cheaper than national parks, but they usually have real roads. And proper signs. I begin to suspect that the GPS is lying to us – I dig out our Rough Guide to the Southwest, and discover that the GPS has us turning at mile 130 instead of mile 137. I knew it - it is plotting against us!
We decide against the gate and Molly's road of doom, and instead turn back onto the highway. Eventually, the GPS grudgingly recalculates, and decides that we can take the main roads if we're going to be so insistent.
We mention our GPS & Molly's Castle to the ranger in the park, and he said that the same thing has happened to a few other people, and that they were thinking of contacting the GPS companies to get that road removed. He told us that a couple had actually gone through that way (because they were obviously really, really dumb), and he had to go out with his rescue buggy to make sure that they'd made it out, and even he almost got stuck in some sand dunes. You need a real off-road vehicle for those trails.
So why did the GPS think this was a good idea? It's got a murderous streak, that Garmin.
Anyway, Goblin Valley. OMG, it was so hot. It was broiling hot. Convection oven hot. The sandy surface underfoot feels weird, like it's been baked solid. The stone formations are whimsically cute, like playdough sculptures that have been baked solid, and you can climb on them. We wandered for a while, climbing on and around stone mushrooms and gnomes and goblins, and guzzling our bottled water because we were melting. The little goblins seem to radiate heat. After a while, I've had enough of Hot Goblin Hell. Back to the car.
Nearby is the Little Wild Horse Canyon. This is a slot canyon in the San Rafael Swell. Meaning that you're basically hiking along the bottom of a very narrow crevice in the canyon. It is very tight. At times, it is really no wider than shoulder-width, and my feet are too wide for the bottom of the path. We're squeezing down narrow passages, and climbing over boulders. It's very impressive scenery, but it's also hard work and you really have to watch your footing.
Little Wild Horse Canyon is part of a loop that joins up with Bell Canyon, but it's not clear where one canyon ends and the other begins. This isn't part of the state park, and there isn't much of anything in the way of trail markers. Because it's a loop, I don't think you can get lost per se – but you also can't tell how far along the trail you are.
It's rained within the last week, and there are some puddles in the canyon, which makes the rock super slippery. I think we're in Bell Canyon, probably on the loop back, but we're running into larger and larger water puddles.
We eventually decide to turn back and retrace our steps. It's after 6 p.m., and I'm worried about it getting darker, because it will get dark very fast in a canyon this tight. Back and back and back we go. We've just climbed back down the 6' dryfall, and we're almost out. Then Stephen realizes he's dropped his camera.
Okay, so we're going back into the canyon. Climb back up the 6' dryfall, and we're looking. And I'm praying that we PLEASE find that camera. Back we go, and I'm already worried about how far back he dropped it, because this hike is now at the 2-hour mark with no signs of ending-- And then I finally see the camera sitting there in the gravel in the middle of the trail. Thank you, God!
Okay, we've got the camera. Now we get to march back out again. At this point, we've squeezed our butts back and forth through the same spots in the canyon four times now. We are freaking tired. I was carrying two litres of water with me, and I drank at least 1.75 litres. We are very glad to hop back into the car.
We're toasted now. We drive back to civilization, find a motel with Internet, a nearby gas station and a burger joint, so that's good enough for us.
(1) Monument Valley - pretty.
(2) Goblin Valley - hot.
(3) Little Wild Horse Canyon - skinny. And 4 times longer than we expected.
(4) Don't always trust your GPS - it may be trying to kill you.
Okay, long version follows:
We left Bluff, Utah this morning, started the drive into Monument Valley, which is just over the border in Arizona. Travelling into Monument Valley is yet another one of Utah's many impressive drives.
Monument Valley park is operated by the Navajo, and yes, admission fees are charged per person. However, you get considerably more bang for your $5 at Monument Valley than you do with your $3 at Four Corners. (Yes, Stephen is still bitter.) Once you get into the valley, you can opt for group or personalized Jeep tours, or you can drive through on your own.
Monument Valley has a very nice visitor centre, with a restaurant overlooking the valley, and now a new hotel where all the rooms face the valley as well. Would be spectacular at sunset. And pricey, I imagine.
I'm not much of a jewelry person, but in the gift shop, I saw a beautiful necklace - it had little segmented pieces that made up a scene of pueblos at night with a starry sky background. I knew I shouldn't even ask, but I did. How much? $5,000. Ouch; that's a bit out of my price range. Well, I was in luck, because it was on sale - 40% off. Which put it somewhere around $3,000. Um... let me check my wallet. Nope, I don't seem to have that much in here. Never mind, I'll go buy a magnet.
After that, we drove back to the town of Mexican Hat, where we decided to fill up with gas as we were driving into the desert, and there aren't any towns on the road for the next few hours. We head down Highway 261 past the Valley of the Gods, and the road is heading straight towards this huge wall of mesas. Huh. We keep getting closer. Does the highway go around? No, it doesn't. It goes over.
You know how I said that when you drive up into Mesa Verde, that you're clinging to the cliff sides? Well, in Mesa Verde, those were real paved roads, with lines and guard rails and everything. THIS is clinging to the side of a mountain. This is a gravel road, no guard rails, switchbacks and hairpin curves, all with horrendous drops right next to the car, and giant round boulders perched precariously overhead. In Arches, I was never afraid of the boulders falling down on me. Here, we were a little bit afraid. "Stay," we command the big rocks, and fortunately they obey.
It is an amazingly scenic route, although it does give you that feeling of "eeurghhh" as you look over the edge and see the heights. Thankfully, we didn't encounter anyone driving down, because I'd hate to have to squeeze past another vehicle on that road. And imagine driving it in the dark – eek!
Then, when we finally reached the top of the mesa, it was all greenery and happy plateau land. You'd never know there was a cliff side anywhere at all. The only thing we passed was a ranger station.
Long drive through several canyons. Fry's Canyon, with its amusingly named landmarks (such as Box-Cheese Butte and Jacob's Chair). Glen Canyon, which seems to be a park, and it has at least some water somewhere out there.
We're heading towards Goblin Valley State Park, with the San Rafael desert on the one side, and the San Rafael Swell (where the land is being pushed up) on the other side. The GPS is warning us that we need to turn in one mile. "Where's the road?" I wonder. Usually, there are signs when you're approaching a junction. But not this time. We turn where the GPS tells us to. There's a gated road – the gate is tied with rope, with a note to re-tie the gate when you pass through. On the other side, a red dirt road leads off towards a butte, and a sign says "Molly's Castle."
Stephen and I stare at the gate and the tumbledown road. Um... I know that state parks are cheaper than national parks, but they usually have real roads. And proper signs. I begin to suspect that the GPS is lying to us – I dig out our Rough Guide to the Southwest, and discover that the GPS has us turning at mile 130 instead of mile 137. I knew it - it is plotting against us!
We decide against the gate and Molly's road of doom, and instead turn back onto the highway. Eventually, the GPS grudgingly recalculates, and decides that we can take the main roads if we're going to be so insistent.
We mention our GPS & Molly's Castle to the ranger in the park, and he said that the same thing has happened to a few other people, and that they were thinking of contacting the GPS companies to get that road removed. He told us that a couple had actually gone through that way (because they were obviously really, really dumb), and he had to go out with his rescue buggy to make sure that they'd made it out, and even he almost got stuck in some sand dunes. You need a real off-road vehicle for those trails.
So why did the GPS think this was a good idea? It's got a murderous streak, that Garmin.
Anyway, Goblin Valley. OMG, it was so hot. It was broiling hot. Convection oven hot. The sandy surface underfoot feels weird, like it's been baked solid. The stone formations are whimsically cute, like playdough sculptures that have been baked solid, and you can climb on them. We wandered for a while, climbing on and around stone mushrooms and gnomes and goblins, and guzzling our bottled water because we were melting. The little goblins seem to radiate heat. After a while, I've had enough of Hot Goblin Hell. Back to the car.
Nearby is the Little Wild Horse Canyon. This is a slot canyon in the San Rafael Swell. Meaning that you're basically hiking along the bottom of a very narrow crevice in the canyon. It is very tight. At times, it is really no wider than shoulder-width, and my feet are too wide for the bottom of the path. We're squeezing down narrow passages, and climbing over boulders. It's very impressive scenery, but it's also hard work and you really have to watch your footing.
Little Wild Horse Canyon is part of a loop that joins up with Bell Canyon, but it's not clear where one canyon ends and the other begins. This isn't part of the state park, and there isn't much of anything in the way of trail markers. Because it's a loop, I don't think you can get lost per se – but you also can't tell how far along the trail you are.
It's rained within the last week, and there are some puddles in the canyon, which makes the rock super slippery. I think we're in Bell Canyon, probably on the loop back, but we're running into larger and larger water puddles.
We eventually decide to turn back and retrace our steps. It's after 6 p.m., and I'm worried about it getting darker, because it will get dark very fast in a canyon this tight. Back and back and back we go. We've just climbed back down the 6' dryfall, and we're almost out. Then Stephen realizes he's dropped his camera.
Okay, so we're going back into the canyon. Climb back up the 6' dryfall, and we're looking. And I'm praying that we PLEASE find that camera. Back we go, and I'm already worried about how far back he dropped it, because this hike is now at the 2-hour mark with no signs of ending-- And then I finally see the camera sitting there in the gravel in the middle of the trail. Thank you, God!
Okay, we've got the camera. Now we get to march back out again. At this point, we've squeezed our butts back and forth through the same spots in the canyon four times now. We are freaking tired. I was carrying two litres of water with me, and I drank at least 1.75 litres. We are very glad to hop back into the car.
We're toasted now. We drive back to civilization, find a motel with Internet, a nearby gas station and a burger joint, so that's good enough for us.
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