The next morning we awoke at around 8:30, a
comfortable night’s rest behind us. It was unusually chilly, even
though the sun was hitting our campsite. I wore my jacket 'til well
after 9 o'clock. Breakfast consisted of pancakes, the most luxurious
breakfast of the trip to come. Pancakes topped with maple syrup are
a nice way to start the day’s activities.
The clouds took on an ominous appearance quite early in the day, so we
felt it best to expedite the trip back and get over Elephant Hill before
any weather made the rocks too slippery to navigate. Almost as soon
as we began to walk back, we hit swampland. One would have thought
we were in southeast Asia rather than the "arid" desert. Reeds and
grasses carpeted the canyon floor, along with wild roses and Indian Paintbrush.
Equisetum, the oldest extant plant species, consisting of nothing more
than a segmented tubular stem with a cone on top, grew here in abundance.
The mosquitoes came out to feed. We rarely stopped or even slowed
down to enjoy the scenery because of the marauding flesh eaters swarming
all around. At one point we had to remove our packs and throw them across
a wide stream, then jump over after them. No need to get wet.
I gauged the stream’s depth with my walking stick at about 5 feet.
We trekked up the side of one canyon and right back down into another.
Several times the passage appeared to be a dead end, opening itself up
only as we got very close and found a whole new canyon opening off to the
side. Around every canyon wall and fin lay a new and impressive sight
of distant needles. One could not complain about the scenery.
Slowly, the trail wound out of the canyon maze and deposited us atop a
barren expanse of slickrock limestone a thousand feet up. A ladder
was required to scale the sheer rock face at one point. Climbing
a seven-foot ladder, with a fifty-pound pack on and nothing between you
and a 400-foot free fall but a fifteen-foot expanse of rock sloping down
is definitely a tense moment.
We passed a family of backpackers from Delaware who seemed to be having
a tough time; moving very slowly. No
matter, at least they were attempting it. No harm in taking it slow.As
for us, we were in a hurry. The sky to the south looked ominous,
and we had to make it over Elephant hill before rain. We scooted
on back, stopping to chat with an Arizonian whose tent was destroyed in
the previous night’s storm. Bad Karma, I guess.
Back at the Jeep, we hurriedly threw our packs in, clamped the bikes on
the back and took off.
The drive over Elephant
Hill was all they had warned us about. 4-wheel drive is a must, as
well as a lot of power. Most of the way we had to walk first, rearranging
rocks and planning the best route. I never knew cars could manage
a route like that one. It would be difficult hiking it, but that
Jeep made it, with me in front directing the path of tires most of the
way. I didn’t mind, it added to the excitement. I took a few
action shots of Dave behind the wheel along the way. The bike rack
took a few scrapes, but the car was not scraped. Nearer to Devil’s
Kitchen where the road was smooth, the route ran through a passage so tight
that we had to hold the rear view mirrors in to prevent scraping.
We arrived at Devil’s Kitchen after much anticipation. 4-wheeling
makes every mile seem like two. Neither of us could recall which
of the four Park-sanctioned campsites was allotted to us, so naturally
we occupied the nicest one and hoped for the best. The site chosen lay
behind a massive wall of sandstone in a veritable Eden of flowers, grass
and brilliant green Box Elder surrounded on all sides but one by rock faces
50 feet or more. A picnic table was positioned under an overhanging
rock face, and a large sandy area lay in the middle. The entire space
formed an oblong circular shape roughly 30x60 feet, all accessible by a
small tunnel connecting it to the outside world. That is Devil’s
Kitchen #4.
The secluded atmosphere gave way to a lazy afternoon of journal writing,
reading and sightseeing. During this time, we had two visitors to our secluded
camp. The first was a park ranger, Eggers, the same one who had conversed
with us on day 1. He was curious about our venture over Elephant
Hill.
Happy to report no
problem with that. Short visit. The second visitor was a mid-aged
gent who had been basking in the sun smoking cigarettes (of something or
other) all afternoon. He was a friendly guy with a full gray beard.
We had passed him on the 4x4 "road" earlier. He was on a month-long
visit of Utah from New York. By almost incalculable odds, he works
for Lockheed Martin in New York, the very company and location Dave is
going to work for in the fall. Mike Bengham was his name. He
and Dave chatted about New York and I sat idly by. Amazing
coincidence.
Feeling the need to DO something, we followed a network of immensely deep
slot canyons, more like crevasses and fissures, near our camp. Some
of the cracks were no wider than a couple of feet, and some had a
roof made up of two rocks separated only by inches. The effect was
cave-like. We ventured down various passageways, the route being
chosen by where our bodies would most easily fit. By and by we came
up a sloped crack that led to a very comfortable balcony which afforded
views in almost every direction. We spent awhile up there, but felt
obligated to keep the action tempo on high.
We decided to hop on the bikes and cruise around for awhile. We rode
the route we’ll take back to Squaw Flat later in the week, up to the Confluence
Overlook split and back again, about four miles. The deep sand made
the going very difficult in some places and the steep rocks equally difficult
in others. Several crashes, nobody was hurt, only some minor re-adjustments
of the bike seat necessary.
Back at camp, dinner
of Ravioli was heated, consumed, and the dishes washed. The rain
that had threatened earlier made no showing, and the evening sky was crystalline
blue till bedtime. Dave opted for the cot out under the stars.
I settled for the cozy bug/snake-free shelter afforded by the magenta nylon
dome erected earlier.