The southern part of Utah is stupendous, even when you’re in a rush.
We woke up in Torrey, Utah, in a haze. Apparently, some numbnut in Southwest Utah started a wildfire whose smoke is currently enveloping the Rocky Mountains. We were right on the lower edge of the wind’s path, so we had to move. Fortunately, some natural walls nearby offered refuge.
As I mentioned in my previous post, Torrey is the entry point to Capitol Reef National Park, which surrounds a long wrinkle in the earth known as the Waterpocket Fold — with layers of golden sandstone, canyons, and tall rock formations. The deeper we got into the park, the clearer the air would be.
The reef once consisted of layers of underwater sediment, covered by ancient oceans, rivers, and inland seas. Over tens of millions of years, the land was uplifted and folded by shifting tectonic plates. After reaching the surface, water erosion slowly carved the cliffs, domes, canyons, and gorges there today. Some rocky spires are still being winnowed out of the earth.
Elsewhere, entire layered underworlds have been revealed. This place is a masterpiece of nature’s long game.
Some walls have been sliced out by erosion and painted black by desert varnish.
Honeycomb holes have been poked into the weaker spots of sandstone. They help the Beehive State live up to its name. (We also bought honey-infused caramels and chocolate for good measure.)
It is difficult to convey the scale of Capitol Reef in words and photographs. There is so much geological diversity here, towering and sinking all around you. The most jagged rocks and the smoothest surfaces. Below is my best attempt to show you as much as I can in one shot.
Even with nature’s protection, the smoke was closing in on us. (See the headline photo for a view of just how close.) We had to push southward, down the renowned Scenic Byway 12, which connects Capitol Reef and Bryce Canyon National Park. My mother called it a terrifying ride — steep drops greet you on both sides — but I prefer the word exhilarating. You can see where an old river snaked through the sandstone hills, leaving a lush riparian canyon in its wake.
The stretch of Byway 12 between Escalante and Boulder was built by FDR’s Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. Termed the “Million Dollar Road,” it is marked by a sign that says it was carved by the workers’ “skill, sweat, and dynamite.” Can you imagine any road nowadays — let alone one that requires miles of solid rock to be blasted apart — being completed for a million dollars? Thanks, Woodrow Wilson.
Here’s a taste of the red rock that needed to be pushed aside. (The stripes are here, too!)
The real showstopper is the Head of the Rocks Overlook. See as far as you possibly can. (Once again, a photo can’t do it justice.)
We stopped to rest in Escalante, an hour short of Bryce Canyon. (Yes, I know. If I could spend a week everywhere, I would.) We strongly recommend the Ofland Escalante hotel. If you thought sleeping in a bubble is neat, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Yes, that is an Airstream. And it was air-conditioned, thank goodness. Europeans must have aneurysms when they visit here.
What’s better than sleeping in an Airstream in the Utah desert? How about watching The Princess Bride at a drive-in movie theater from a vintage car as the sun sets over the Utah desert. We nabbed the mint-green Rambler Classic closest to the screen. I listened to Inigo Montoya’s famous warning through the in-car movie speaker positioned on the front seat.
What’s the right word to describe this day? Ah, of course: Inconceivable!
“Beautah” is a common term around here for the state’s natural wonders. We wish that a different part of Beautah wasn’t trying to scare us away with hazardous smoke. But not even a raging wildfire could make Utah any less stupendous.
This is an installment in a cross-country road-trip adventure.