Retracing my route through Bryce National Park, I took a little time to walk one of the trails near the highway since the weather had warmed up a bit.

Rather than going home the way we had come out, I went north on Hwy. 89, then taking route 20 through the mountains which follows the Old Spanish Trail. There were some steep grades, 12% at times, but I took it slow since traffic was light and there were two lanes in each direction should anyone want to pass. This beautiful drive was over all to soon and we were dumped onto the interstate highway which was quite busy and FAST. The speed limit was 80 mph in places and I never saw any restrictions on autos towing trailers, so I kicked my own speed up to 65, just in self-defense. The laws of physics don’t change with posted speed limits, so I remained alert, knowing that any sudden maneuvers would be risky.

Just north of St. George is a little town called Leeds. I had done some Google research thinking it would be a good place to stop for the night and I’d found an RV park and a good restaurant. Pulling into Leed’s RV resort, I felt like I’d just been moved from business class to coach. The park was populated by mostly full-time residents who had personalized their own space. One woman had an expansive outdoor cat run and another had a pet that appeared to have the freedom to roam the park.

Overall, the park was neat and the residents were quiet. My site was about as far away from the restroom as one could park and still be within the property, but at least it wasn’t cold so the hike was pleasant enough.

Once our camp was set up and the trailer disconnected, we set out to explore our neighborhood. The Silver Reef Museum was nearby so we headed up the road that Google said was the way to go. We never spotted the museum but we did find a nicely graded dirt road that led to a lovely little hike. Just what my aching hips needed! The girls enjoyed the freedom of BLM land and my distraction of a phone call from home.

After we had worked up an appetite, we drove to Tequilana where the food was as good as it had been reported on Google. There was a brand new, Covid inspired patio, where the girls could join me. The waiter kindly brought them a to-go container which he tore into two parts to fill with water. Sadie, impatient with his service began to drink out of his pitcher. I don’t think the people at the next table noticed.

To say it wasn’t a great day would only indicate my feeling of loss at parting with Tam and leaving the comforts of Yonder. I went straight to bed and actually slept pretty well, despite the drone of the nearby freeway traffic, or maybe because of it. But, of course, I was awake by 4:00 A.M.

Feeling the end-of-vacation blues, I debated whether to just drive the 8 hours home, rather than detour from the freeway through Valley of Fire again. I was on the road by 5 A.M. and thought I’d see how I felt by the time I reached the VoF off ramp. The eastern sky was just starting to lighten when I came to the exit and I was growing very sleepy, having left camp without coffee. Thankfully, Mike called just after I left the freeway and talked to me most of the way to the park.

I walked through the campground looking at tags to see if anyone was vacating that day and found two sites. The couple from Idaho in the site I preferred, was in no hurry to leave so I told them I’d go pay for the site and amuse myself until check-out time. The Atlatl campground has hookups and showers so I went up there to take a shower and then parked in a day-use picnic area and made myself a much-needed cup of coffee and some breakfast.

That was all it took to get my vacation mojo back. Refueled, the ambivalence of the morning evaporated. By the time I headed to my campsite, the Idahoans were leaving the campground and I waived merrily to them. But now I worried because they had said they wouldn’t be leaving for a few hours, and now my campsite was sitting vacant. Would-be campers were circling the campground like vultures, prowling for a site, as I had been earlier. Sure enough, by the time I made my way through the campground someone had parked in my spot. It was a handsome, young man who moved out without argument, saying he didn’t know how the system worked. His girlfriend was walking down to the entrance to pay the fee and I hoped she hadn’t already put her money in the slot. At any rate, I suggested he try the app Campendium.com to locate a place to camp outside the park.

I set up the trailer and considered a hike but somehow the idea of a nap won out. The camp was quiet, the air was warm, and I had several good books. A sunset hike seemed like a more reasonable option. So, just before dusk I loaded the girls into the back of the car and went in search of a cell signal so I could let Mike know that I wasn’t coming home that night.

The woman in the campsite next to me turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip. Almost my age and caring for an aging mother, we had things in common. She had a fascinating history, having traveled extensively and she was an avid bibliophile. We could have talked for days but darkness fell and we both had miles to travel the next day.

And then the adventure was over except for the unpacking, the laundry, washing the trailer and car, and preparing for work on Monday. Reliving it through this blog is almost as fun as planning the trip.

We had hiked about 7 miles the first day, about 8 the second day, and we were pleasantly surprised that we recovered over night. So, on day three, we set off for another exploration of the Escalante River. Thinking we would go upriver from the highway, we headed back towards Boulder; but on the outskirts of town, we noticed a trailhead sign that indicated we could access the river from the east end and skip the drive. Our hiking book said it was 14 miles to where Hwy. 12 crosses the river but we had no intention of going that far. I remembered the sign at the bridge on our previous hike:

Almost as soon as the trail reached the river, the canyon walls rose up and closed in. We traveled slowly down river, crossing the stream many times and had to stop occasionally to rest our cramping necks. Necks are not accustomed to looking up and the towering cliffs demanded that we look at their flamboyant ribbons of color and texture.

It was hard to make the decision to turn back as each bend in the canyon promised another breathtaking alcove, waterfall, or slot canyon, but common sense prevailed and we retraced our path back to the car after about five miles.

As usual, we finished the hike with howling stomachs, but thankfully we were only a couple of miles from Escalante Outfitters . With mouths watering we made all haste only to find they were CLOSED! .https://www.escalanteoutfitters.com/restaurant/

With heavy hearts we continued towards home, consoling ourselves with the thought of my homemade, cheese/black bean/corn enchiladas with authentic sauce made from scratch, that were languishing in the camper refrigerator. But we spotted this gem!

The special of the day was pozole, something that no self-respecting vegetarian would eat but…on vacation, I eat as the Romans eat or in this case, the Mexicans. I’m seriously thinking of another trip to Escalante just to sample other menu items. I’m certain this experience has ruined me for any other pozole and so, I vow not to eat it ever again, but the memory of that savory soup will linger always. Tamera’s quesadilla, layered with tender pork and good quality cheese came with salsa and guacamole, obviously made fresh on the premises. Tortilla chips, made from flour tortillas, were also freshly made. There was nothing healthy about this fabulous meal and I’m grateful Georgie’s is 600 miles from home.

So, enough of waxing rhapsodic about the food we have eaten; it’s obvious I’m avoiding the inevitable parting of the ways with MFN. We spent our last evening in paradise appreciating the Yonder Escalante glamcamp.

Morning came and neither of us was eager to hit the road for home and say good-bye, so we went into town in search of breakfast that neither of us really wanted. The Outfitter restaurant was still closed but the store offered a nice assortment of prepared food. That uncomfortable space of time, where the imminent parting hung between us like a diaphanous curtain couldn’t be ignored. A lingering hug in the parking lot had me stumbling towards my car with tears welling unbidden. Remembering one of our fireside conversations about break-ups with boyfriends and distracted driving, I paused to text her that I wouldn’t sob and drive.

On the road again, equanimity restored, I was transported by the panorama around me. It was easy to live in the moment and enjoy the drive to Bryce National Park.

The first time I came home from Southern Utah with what I thought were spectacular photos, my sister commented dryly, “Sure are a lot of rock pictures”. The next time, I took her with me and she came home with twice as many rock pictures as I had. My point is, amateur images scarcely hint at the grandeur of the landscape. So with that in mind, kindly view the following with uncritical eyes.

My frosty breath hung in the air INSIDE the trailer and the dogs declined to go outside to do any kind of business. Of course, it was still well before dawn. There was naught to be done but snuggle in bed and write in my journal.

When the sun came up I was able to crawl from under my down comforter and heat some tea on the stove, which took the chill off but also caused moisture to condense on the cold ceiling and drip onto my bed. Ah, the joys of camping! Later when the camp host came by, I asked him why I had no electrical power and he diplomatically pointed out that I needed to turn on ALL of the breakers at the post. He was nonplussed that I hadn’t bothered him after hours to help me. I guess the usual guest isn’t that considerate. My trailer has a new battery so I didn’t need electrical power but I did appreciate the WiFi as there was not much cell service.

A text from Tamera said she was about four hours away so I took a hot shower and broke camp. Kodachrome Basin State Park was just a short drive off the highway and looked like a great place to while away a few hours before beating cheeks to Escalante to meet MFN.

The park looked like I could have spent several days exploring the canyons and dirt roads, but I was too eager to get to Escalante and meet MFN Tamera to do more than snap a few images, cruise through the campgrounds and then turn east to Yonder Escalante.

After setting up our camp in a private-feeling space at the end of a row of RV sites, nestled in a copse of scrub oaks, we set off to explore our new neighborhood. A dirt road, just across the highway, brought us to a short canyon where the dogs could romp off leash and get acquainted. Tamera’s little Mini-Australian Shepard, Lucy, is about a quarter of the size of Sadie so she was cautious about initiating play. Each time she would entice Sadie to chase her, she ran and hid behind her mom.

Our first night in camp was a bit of a trial. I heated the chili relleno caserole with some brown rice and a nice bottle of pinot noir to set the mood. We then set up the larger bed at the back of the trailer for my two big girls and me, and the smaller front bed for Tamera and her little girl. Poor Lucy! She just couldn’t relax with two big dogs just a few feet away and Tamera finally gave up and moved her bed into the back of her car. This also allowed Molly to settle down as she was suspicious of the interloper who had usurped her bed. Neither of my dogs offered to move to the now empty front bed, but I was content to share their body heat.

In the morning I tried the heater again and voila! it fired right up without apology or explanation.

We all piled into Tamera’s new Nissan Pathfinder to hike the three-mile trail to Lower Calf Creek Falls, the iconic Escalante canyon trail. Lower Calf Creek is described as a heavily trafficked, moderate hike, but we didn’t find it to be at all crowded even though the small parking lot was full when we arrived. Though dogs are required to be on leashes, there were long stretches where we could let them loose, only tethering them when we saw other hikers approaching.

We retraced our steps and by the time we reached the car, we were ready for breakfast/lunch/dinner as we hadn’t had a meal all day. Even though it was cold and windy, Tamera agreed to drive up the Hogback https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCJB_Xa1nOs to Boulder to eat at Hell’s Backbone Grill. https://hellsbackbonegrill.com/ Thanks to Covid, the restaurant was serving only dinner and that was outside, on the patio. Still, people were lined up for their locavore cuisine. We opted to take ours to go and found a turnout on the Hogback that afforded a 360 degree view, Calf Creek on the right and another stark drainage on the left. We ate our dessert first, using the excuse that we didn’t want Tamera’s autumn fruits cobbler to get cold or her ice cream to melt. My chocolate chili cream pot would have been good at any temperature. Sorry no food pictures; we ate like starving refugees.

Returning to camp, we decided to go to the drive-in movie theater. Top Gun was showing. As Tamera recited the dialog from memory between and through mouthfuls of popcorn, I reviewed the day’s pictures and texted them to Sally to elicit her envy.

Yonder served freshly ground and brewed coffee on the patio, along with hot corn muffins and fruit every morning. Neither Tam nor I are big on food first thing in the morning but we tapped that coffee with enthusiasm. No powdered coffee whitener, but real half and half or oat milk for this classy place. I was quite certain this is what heaven would look like upon arrival.

Hike #2 began where Highway 12 crosses the Escalante River. We started off downstream and almost immediately were forced to cross the shallow but frigid stream. I switched to my already damp water shoes and never bothered to change back.

Once again, we left the trail, having hiked 8 miles without breakfast or lunch, famished. Now you may discount what follows, attributing it to exaggerated appetite induced by physical activity but seriously, the lunch at Escalante Outfitters was world class.

Like castaways, we described to each other the meal we were anticipating when we got back to town. Tamera craved fresh mozzarella with tomato on focaccia while I was more broad-minded in my fantasy, never imagining that Tamera’s dream would be realized in the teeny-tiny, back-road, cowboy town of Escalante.

And so, we again arrived at heaven’s gate. Tamera’s sandwich exceeded all expectation. The requisite buffalo mozzarella was enhanced by tomato, red onion, and pepperoccini, on grilled kalamata olive sourdough bread. I ordered a truly Italian style, thin-crust pizza glazed with olive oil and grilled garlic cloves, topped with grilled tomatoes, artichoke hearts, mushrooms and red onions. World class is no exaggeration and I apologize for failing to photograph the pizza before devouring it.

Returning to camp with full bellies, we showered and joined our fellow campers (not pictured) on the patio to watch the full moon rise. The patio refrigerator was stocked with packages of marshmallows, Reece’s peanut butter cups and graham crackers for making s’mores along with sticks on which to roast the marshmallows. Packaged meals, ready to be grilled on the camp grills were also available for purchase. The heated pool and spa beckoned but we were already too tired for a swim.

After the first night, we agreed that we must extend our stay another day. We were hooked on Glamping.

Warning! This is a rant.

Just home from a week-long vacation, and before I begin to post the details of the trip, I am going to alienate anyone who believes that mankind is mandated to “be fruitful and multiply” and to “cover the earth”. Enough already!

I’ve been wandering the desert Southwest for almost fifty years. The lure of quiet canyons and star-filled skies has brought me back to Utah and Arizona, in particular, year after year. But now the vast open spaces, once unmarked by humans, are crisscrossed with the tracks of all terrain vehicles and littered with the detritus of a careless breed of humans who feel entitled to dominion over the earth. The places where one could pitch a private camp, away from the noise of others, now are crammed with RVs (recreational vehicles) of all sizes and purpose. Their occupants sit inside their “home away from home” and watch their big screen TV, rarely venturing outside to appreciate the surroundings of unsurpassed natural beauty. When they do venture out, it’s to fire up the quad or motorcycle to go tearing around the countryside as fast as the uneven terrain will allow.

It’s easy to understand why the seemingly infinite wilderness would feel like one’s own personal space to use and abuse as carelessly as a child would his pristine diaper. But the difference is that the desert isn’t washed clean every day. The mark made by a single passage remains a scar, sometimes for decades; and the tracks of thousands of powerful ATVs render a wilderness a barren sand trap.

The earth is a closed system, my dear breeders. Already our teeming masses, yearning to breathe free, are breathing each other’s exhalations and it’s nearly impossible to maintain a 6 square foot distance between ourselves and other humans.

So, I beg you, just stop. Stop having so many children. Also, if it’s not too much trouble, raise the ones you have to be respectful of mother nature and each other. Teach them that mechanization increases their potential for destruction of the natural environment exponentially while diminishing their ability to appreciate it commensurately. Trust me on this: traveling under one’s own power reveals priceless secrets about one’s environment and about one’s self.