Over the weekend I risked life and limb in the name of fun because that is the Utah summer way.
Or at least that’s the Utah summer way according to the very fun and very adventurous friends who continue inviting me to southern Utah for hikes where the red rock landscapes are breathtaking and the terrain is slick sandstone and one wrong move means instant death.
Honestly, I’m surprised they invited me again this year after I was VERY dramatic about completing The Subway last June. I was assured that this year’s hike in Coyote Gulch was much less canyoneering and much more traditional hiking with “just one steep incline at the end.”
Coyote Gulch is in the heart of Escalante’s canyon country, in south-central Utah, which, for my money, is the most beautiful part of our great state. There’s something about driving a hilly highway through a lush desert landscape while cattle graze on either side of the road that feels completely whimsical. Like it’s a location that should only exist in cinema.
For dinner we stopped at Hell’s Backbone Grill, one of Utah’s most renowned culinary destinations. The restaurant has been selected as a James Beard Award semifinalist and finalist, and deemed the best restaurant in southern Utah by a number of publications. For good reason. The food is locally sourced and fresh and the setting, next to their farm, cannot be beat.
If I’m being completely honest I was hoping that after dinner we’d all decide that dinner on the patio had been worth the three hour drive and provided the outdoorsyness for which the group seemed to year, and that we should spend the next day lounging about, perhaps enjoying a spa, taking in the scenery from a temperature-controlled room with cucumber water on tap.
But that is not what happened. Instead we went to bed and woke up at FIVE O’CLOCK. IN THE MORNING. We left our accommodations at FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING and began the drive to the Crack-in-the-wall trailhead, only a portion of which was paved and the rest was sand.
The hike itself, or at least the way we did it, was 12ish miles through an initial slot canyon, in the gulch along the tributary, around a number of waterfalls, under two arches and a natural bridge, and up and over petrified dunes.
We started actually hiking at 7 a.m., and though sandier than most terrain I’ve traversed, there wasn’t anything especially difficult about the first couple of miles. Then we reached the titular crack in the wall, and I learned we were meant to drop down into it. Which I had no idea how to do, but successfully imitated the people who went ahead of me.
Then, once we arrived at the gulch, we spent the next eight or so miles trudging in and out of water which was honestly not as terrible as it sounds. Or maybe it was terrible but I just didn’t notice because the scenery was so lovely and the wildlife was so fun to observe. Birds and toads and lizards punctuated our path as we enjoyed the shade of the tall canyon walls.
Our ultimate destination was the Jacob Hamblin Arch, which simply must be seen to be believed and numbers among the most spectacular natural wonders I’ve been fortunate enough to witness. It was well worth the 10-mile hike.
But then we had to get out of the gulch. And it was then that I learned I don’t actually understand what 45% means in practice. I thought I knew what a 45% incline looked like, but I swear when I saw the alleged 45%, it looked more like 150%.
I watched some of the seasoned climbers in our group scamper up the cliff side like they were possessed mountain goats, and then I was handed the rope and instructed to make my way up. Which I did. With remarkable speed. Because I was terrified.
It turns out that the cliche “Don’t look down” exists for a reason. About halfway up the rock I looked behind to see if other hikers were approaching, and when I did I saw just how far I would fall if the rope slipped. Survival seemed impossible. So I skedaddled, with the strength and speed of a Bornean Orangutan up the rope until I hit high, flat ground. Because I guess fear is what really motivates me to accomplish physical feats. During my next race I might pay someone to chase me with a knife so I can finally get that PR I’ve been seeking
The next two miles were a monotonous up and down over solidified sand and just when I said I was ready to lay down and die, we turned a corner and saw the parking lot. I do believe there is no sight more beautiful, not even the Jacob Hamblin Arch, than the parking lot at the end of the hike. When (if) I get to heaven, I bet it will feel the same as seeing your Subaru parked in the shade at a trailhead, knowing an icy Diet Coke waits within.
As soon as we reached our vehicles and I was able to remove my muddy socks and put on sandals I had already forgotten the trials and tribulations of half an hour ago. I was ready to declare it the best day ever. Just like I said about last year’s adventure.
Can’t wait for next year’s hike.