Parunuweap Canyon

It's officially mid-July, and even though it's pretty dang hot where I'm writing, I have to say I'm glad I'm not out in 113 degree temperature in Zion National Park on a hike that ends in failure. Sure, I love the wilderness, but I'm usually pretty good at keeping my wild desert excursions in a tolerable temperature range. I have a hard enough time as it is getting out and running just 2-3 miles in the evenings, after it's been 95-100 degrees all afternoon.

Two years ago, I wasn't so lucky. My brother was on leave from the military in July, and he is the most enthusiastic Zion National Park lover in the family, and since that was the time he could go, we went. Feeling adventurous, my two brothers, Kevin, and I decided to do a long (14 mile or so) hike to Parunuweap Canyon, a slot canyon above the famous Zion Narrows. The only problem is that about 90% of this hike is directly in the sun with no shade. Seriously, try to find a juniper big enough to shade even two people at 2:00 p.m. in the July desert. We thought that this wouldn't be an issue once we climbed down the cliff and into the Virgin River and Parunuweap slot canyon, but unfortunately, we didn't make it that far.This is the look across the road from Checkerboard Mesa, our hike's starting point. These Zion mountains were some of the most beautiful sites on the trip.
The trail wandered through this forest, which became a most-desired destination on our way back to the shade it provided.
We crossed this carved out location along the slickrock before we reached the edge of the cliff where we'd be close to Parunuweap. At about this point, we guaged how far we'd come and decided that it had taken much too long. We still wanted to see the Virgin River and its canyons, however, so we pressed forward.

And here's the look from the cliff down to the Virgin River and Purunuweap. It was heartbreaking to get here, to see the lush vegitation and running water, and not make our way down. But, we had promised to meet my sister and brother-in-law back at the parking lot by 5:00 p.m., and, we were nearly out of water. Wisdom has its price, I guess. I'll have to revisit this one in April or September sometime.

Coyote Gulch in May

It's May. It's graduation time for Kevin, and it's busy short-academic-term time for me, where I teach two nights a week at a local university on top of working my regular job (which happens to be in a very exciting and engaging point on the current project timeline). Despite everything we have going on (or maybe because of it), we are going to take a trip this month to Moab and Arches. I haven't been there in May for a long time, but I'm expecting it to be hot. Last May Kevin and I were in Chesler Park with my brother, Matt. The May before that, we were in Coyote Gulch. I thought I'd write about that Coyote Gulch trip here to psych me up for more May weather hiking, and remind me of the things I don't want to do as well.

Warning: I made several stupid decisions on this hike. I should have known better. I should have carried more water, for one. About three times the water I took (I only took a liter). I should also have not decided to do the whole hike (14 miles) on a whim, and without eating lunch first.

That May, Kevin and I, along with our good friend Olsen, went down to the Glenn Canyon and Escalante area to do some hiking. We wanted to try an area we had never visited before, and with summer fast approaching, we felt like we were running out of time to visit Southern Utah in decent temperatures. After driving through Escalante and traveling 45 or so miles along a dirt road (in a small Honda Civic, nonetheless) to the most remote area of Utah I’ve ever been to, we reached the trailhead for Coyote Gulch, a popular backpacking hike in the area. It was past 1:00 p.m., but we decided to walk a little ways into the gulch to see what it was like. It wasn’t until later that we decided to do the whole 14.5 miles, which left us racing to finish before the sun set and worried about our water supply.

The first part of the trail is very sandy, but it quickly turns into this sandstone marked with cairns that are placed quite far apart and in about 20 different directions. The trick is to locate and head toward “the Crack,” which is the only way to get down into the gulch.


Here's a pretty part: A small waterfall along the Coyote Gulch trail. Once we descended to the water, the hike continued mildly upstream. This was after we'd been down to the first arch (Steven's Arch) and the place where the Escalante River joins up. Here I made the (poor) decision to keep hiking, rather than go back the way we came to the car. It was beautiful, though, and I was drawn in by the siren.

Kevin and I in front of Coyote Natural Bridge.

Jacob Hamblin Arch, where our route in the actual gulch ended. One thing that made me worried as we progressed along this trail was the notorious climb out. The trail book we were reading called this "the most challenging part," and the Glenn Canyon ranger we talked to told us about this cliff right off, making sure we were up to the challenge. That has somewhat of a psychological impact on climbers, as a 45 degree angle cliff was more of a psychological challenge than anything else. This is the side of the 100-foot fin that we had to scale to get out of Coyote Gulch. At first we thought we could just walk right up this part, by the dirt and plants. Only later did we realize that we had to climb straight up the cliff, farther to the right. One of my coworkers had done this with a bunch of older kids and teenagers, and they had a rope they used more as a security blanket. I think that would have helped in this case.

Eventually we made it out alive and back to the road, where we were picked up by a passing car who drove us to the parking lot. Strangely enough, they were looking for another hiker we'd met in the gulch, one who had been kind enough to filter us 2 liters of water on the spot. Never had nasty carbon-tasting water been so good. When we got to our car, they asked us if we had anything to drink, and we were more than happy to hand over a whole gallon of water we had in the trunk, hoping it would somehow return the favor their friend had done for us.

We had planned to camp along the Hole in the Rock road that night before heading to Calf Creek the next morning. After our experience, we decided to get a motel room. After all, we'd earned it.