Rocks and Christians

Back to the big, bad old Bryce Canyon, and the willingness to actually hike down all the way, and then hike back out, hopefully without the need for a helicopter airlift. Down, down, down the Queen's Garden trail, so named for the figure of Queen Victoria formed by a zillion years of slow erosion way up on one of the various parapets of sandstone, down in the depths of the canyon.

Happy Trails

You walk around and occasionally though these massive formations that look both very solid and impossibly balanced, huge chunks of rocks and whole trees with their roots waving pitifully upwards, testifying to the results of the constant, yearly freeze/crack style of erosion these walls go through. One of the trails had fallen off the wall, and the forestry guys were there rebuilding a chunk of trail. Most of the trails have been cut out of existing erosion paths, or are simply an angle carved out of the side of a really big rock, but then they have to buttress them up with concrete and rebar, and I just want to tell them how lucky I think they are, for having such great job security. This place is always falling apart, otherwise no one would come here. So, always fixing, always conditioning, clearing debris, tree bits, building up trail sections that are just as vulnerable to the vagaries of good old-fashioned erosion as all the non-man-made rocks in the park.

The hike down the Queen's Garden trail is a bit precipitous and could use a few more switchbacks, though I'm not sure where they'd put them. You drop down the 320 foot elevation change in the first half mile or so, and I'd say the first hundred feet of that is over in less than a tenth of a mile. In other words - steeeeeep.

Funny, funny shoes

We were stopped repeatedly by folks coming up the other way to ask RG about her shoes. She was wearing her pink FiveFingers hikers, and no one could imagine them being comfortable. I was wearing a pair of hiking shoes I'd bought in case I didn't like my own red FiveFingers, and I was so sorry I hadn't worn my Funnyshoes. I ended up with blisters and RG really only suffered from a sort of general fatigue (from, you know, hiking).

Big damn rocks

So we got to the bottom of the trail, into a kind of cul de sac where the formation that looks like Queen Victoria with her bustle appears high above you (and once someone points it out, it's hard to see anything else). The queen is on the left in this picture.

So we're down here, enjoying the amazing formations, when a fellow walks up with his three sons, and says, "doesn't look like Queen Victoria to me. I think it's a wise man bringing gifts to Jesus."

Not amused

Well, isn't that nice.

The hike out was, at first, no big deal, lots of gentle ups and downs. As we got closer to the base of the main incline, RG and I were both stopping at every switchback to catch our breath, swig a little water. As we went up the final ascent, it wasn't until afterwards that we both admitted to feeling not a little lightheaded, and possibly suffering from tunnel vision at one point. My heart felt like a jackhammer and my lungs were wheezing (to quote Salieri) "like an old rusty squeezebox."

I can't wait to go back and do it again.

Filmland

Day after that Kodachrome Basin. Originally named Kodachrome Flat, the name was changed to Chimney Rock State Park, due to fears of the Wrath of Kodak. Kodak turned out to be Amused by someone naming a State Park after their film (gee, I can't imagine why), so eventually it became known as Kodachrome Basin State Park.

On a side note: if you stay at Ruby's Inn and want to buy groceries, I'd seriously recommend driving nine miles down UT-12 to the small town of Tropic and go to the grocery store there. A larger variety of food, and certainly more reasonable prices. We had a burger at the restaurant part of the restaurant/grocery store/gas station. Pretty darn good food. Beer selection's limited, but hey - it's Utah.

After lunch, we hit the Shakespeare Arch, a half a mile through very very dusty environs, lots of ups and downs and ups and downs. The arch itself is far overhead, and is quite an impressive structure.

A nice boulder

Then we hit the upper half of the park. Longer hike, flatter, up close and personal with some pretty massive sandstone formations. My understanding of sandstone is that it was once plain old sand or dirt of one kind or another (mostly sand), that got layers and layers of crap laid onto it over the years, eventually concreting into a single mass, and then a lot of the crap ended up weathering away, to give all of us the appearance of giant rounded lumps of stone with interesting erosion marks all over, strange formations that appear to be teetering on the edge of collapse (which they are, but very, very slowly).

The other odd things are the holes in all the walls, in some cases in neat little rows, way up the side of a massive formation, that speak to tiny imperfections becoming larger and larger erosion pits. More fun occurs later (after a few hundred years) when rain slowly pulls the sand off the sandstone and forms little mud castles inside these same erosion holes. It's been pointed out by smarter people than I that any natural formation at its edges looks like a smaller version of the bigger formation, and this fractalization extends all the way down to the molecular level. The tiny sandstone formations in these holes is awesome proof of that.

Another thing, which my pictures don't do justice to, (but some of the digitals might) is the ridiculous variety of color within the sandstones. There's iron for red, manganese for purple, and yellow for straight feldspar (which is common in sandstones). Then there's the white limestone intrusions everywhere.

After the hike, swimming and something akin to a buffet at Ruby's. Overcooked carrots, undercooked pork, properly cooked beef (in "cowboy" gravy - didn't taste like cowboy to me), roasted chicken parts, mashed potato paste, Rice-A-Roni (really), decent mac'n'cheese, and corms. The dessert pile consisted of a lot of stuff that might have been Sara Lee, and a frogurt bar. Back to the room and into a food coma.

Red Rock West

Title of one of my favorite movies and the appearance of Bryce Canyon and the peculiarly-named Kodachrome Basin. We drove out to Bryce after our mildly harrowing experience traversing the airport in Vegas. We stopped maybe once to take photos along the way, but once you enter the southern end of Bryce Canyon (known as Red Canyon), you realize how far off the map you feel, even though the map is really well-drawn.



Strange formations, produced by thousands of years of slow erosion, begin small and grow and grow and grow until they nearly blot out the sky. And (just like everyone told me) the sky looks bluer than it does anywhere else. So pretty. Between RG and myself, we shot nearly four hundred photos in Bryce. From the 6x7 camera, I had one of our local labs scan in all my negatives. A small sample, and you can get to the rest via  Flickr:

We stayed at Ruby's Inn, a Best Western property that's been there for nearly a hundred years in one form or another. The discoverer of Bryce Canyon (Ebenezer Bryce), in laconical cowboy fashion, described Bryce as a "helluva place to lose a cow." Reuben "Ruby" Syrett built a small Tourist Rest lodge at the outskirts of the Park, and it has since morphed into a place where you can bring an RV, stay in the lodge, eat at the buffet, and so on and so on. Very tourist-tacky and yet quaint, RG and I found ourselves relatively happy with the accommodations (nice pool), and with a short ride to various jumping off points to hike into the canyon.

So, RG and I took ourselves down one trail, and it became apparent immediately that we were in no shape to do what we were trying to do. Either acclimation to the altitude or our own general torpidity back home had not prepared us for the steep climb back out of the steep, downward climb we first attempted (after walking the canyon rim for about a half mile). End of the day, we wuz tired.