Keeping up with Grandpa

Several months prior to our trip west, I mentioned to my dad that I hoped to do a little hiking in Southern Utah. I asked him if he would like to make a detour on a weekend to St. George and fit in a little adventure. In classic dad style, that I am so lucky to benefit from time to time, he called me back just minutes later with a hotel reserved and ideas for a possible itinerary. How lucky I was to spend a few days with my dad, exploring Southern Utah. 

My dad knows the red rock country better than anyone I know and he still spends free weekends roaming the trails, remote vistas, panels of petroglyphs and slot canyons. So when he climbed behind the wheel on the morning of the July 24th weekend, we knew we were in for a treat. Our first stop was Goblin Valley. As soon as we pulled up to a ledge over looking a barren land of odd knobby formations, the kids jumped out of the car and were on their way to meet this peculiar sandstone community. They climbed over, darted between, perched on top of, and crawled around the "goblins". Finally they searched for the shade that each individual knob offered, sank to the ground and gulped down their water bottles. I had always wanted to visit Goblin Valley and it was especially exciting to experience it from a child's perspective.

Not far from Goblin Valley is Little Wild Horse Canyon, which my nephew Tanner recommended. Of course my dad knew where it was, which section of the loop trail was worth exploring and how far in to hike in order to reach the best slot canyons. We hadn't ventured far before the kids and I realized that this hike was a favorite. The canyon walls rose higher and higher and grew closer and closer together. Soon we were shimmying through a thin crack that nature had carved millenniums before. Our backpacks rubbed the walls and tiny grains of sand fell to the desert floor. Each time I have hiked a slot canyon, I am in awe at its beauty, but each time I am also slightly disappointed that the crevice isn't as dramatically narrow as the slot canyons in the photographs hanging in Utah's art galleries. This hike met all my expectations. Thanks Tanner!

 

That night we arrived in Capitol Reef National Park. We ate dinner on the back patio of a local cafe, on picnic tables, under the stars, listening to cowboy music. There was something so rustic and westernly quaint about this spot, there couldn't have been a more perfect end to our day.

The next morning we split up. My dad dropped off Emilie, Jonathan, Annelise, Ezra and I at the top of the Grand Wash trail and he parked the car at the bottom and started hiking up the trail 

with Sophia. We hiked for five miles in the shadows of towering red cliffs. Throughout my parent's family photo albums are images of my siblings and me tucked in various sandstone holes carved throughout Southern Utah. To me, a collection of family albums isn't complete without at least a few pages of children peeking out of red rock pockets. Today I got those pages for my albums. All along the wash we marveled at the force of nature and its ability to recreate beauty with the simplicity of wind and water. The kids scampered up the walls to curl up in yet another pocket carved into the sandstone towers above. 

Afterward we treated ourselves to homemade pie and ice cream at the historic Gifford homestead that is nestled in the orchard that was planted by hopeful pioneers. Capitol Reef was the last area in the United States to be mapped. We relished in its rural beauty.

That night we sought out a funky little parade that we heard about from some new friends that we ran into several times in the area. By the time we left Capitol Reef, we were on a first name basis with Roger and Hank. (They drove their limited edition convertible 60's porshe in the parade donning their cowboy get up. They informed us that we could join the parade as well. The kids were all game for it but my dad and I were more hesitant.)

 

We rose early the next morning and made our way to Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument. For years I had tried to fit a hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls into one of my journeys South but had never been successful. Today I finally saw the falls and I wasn't disappointed! We arrived at the trail head at 8:00 am, making every effort to avoid the Southern Utah summer heat. We packed our backpacks with water bottles, apples and a bag of Jolly Ranchers and were on our way. This hike meanders along the desert floor, next to a little brook which creates a small emerald jungle, contrasting the red cliff walls on each side of the trail. Along the way we passed petroglyphs and an ancient Indian cliff dwelling. After two and a half miles, we could hear roaring water tumbling for hundreds of feet into a pool lapping against the sandstone cliffs. We tucked our toes into the cool moist sand and dared each other to jump into the water that felt icy in the hot summer sun. After a small picnic we slipped Ezra back into his pack and headed back between the thick jungle and the desert walls. With two previous days of hiking, Sophia had had her fill. For most of the five miles, through the sand, my dad carried her on his shoulders! I will remember this hike for both its beauty and adventure but also for my dad's support, great attitude, athleticism, love of grandchildren, patience and optimism!

  

After shakes in Escalante we continued through breathtaking scenery and arrived at my parents' St. George house for the next phase of our vacation. Before flying home the next day, my dad swam with the grandchildren, went to church with Lisa, who arrived the night before with her six children, and I and then fixed a Sunday dinner for all eleven grandchildren and his parents, who visited on Sunday afternoon.