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West Rim View
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Drop into Zion Canyon
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A veil of rain
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The quality of Being… is the lesson of Nature. Walt Whitman
Night 1: Cache and Stash. K and I got up early Thursday, bought fresh bagels, and drove South.
We hoped to cache water and get a shuttle to start in a few miles to LaVerkin Creek.
We did cache the water - hiking one wine bladder a mile or so past the route to The
Subway/Northgate Peaks from the Wildcat TH. Just the names bring a shiver of delight
to my dusty skin. The other skin we left at the head of Hop Valley TH - both off the
Kolob Terraces Road. So, abandoning hopes for hiking today, we returned to Parowan
and from there to Brian Head to eat lasagne with Craig. It has been a long day of
stash and cache, and we look forward to a sustained experience in church.
Day 1: Hop into Hop Valley: (8+ miles, visit Kolob Arch, +1 mile). It is frosty
in Brian Head as we load up to complete the shuttle with Craig's help. A mouse
bored yet another hole in the lunch bag, making it look more and more like a
strainer than a sack. Craig drops us off at Lees Pass TH around 10 a.m., after
lots of driving to deposit the truck at visitor center.
Finally, we are on the trail. We roll along dry Timber Creek, over the bump and
to a lovely lunch spot along LaVerkin Creek. Reds of Maples and Oaks, yellows of
Aspen and Cottonwood splash colors against the reds of the Navajo Sandstone cliffs.
We hike along burbling LaVerkin for 6 miles from the pass TH to find a side trail to
Kolob Arch, reputed to be the largest span in the U.S., perhaps the world.
We drop packs and climb to the view point to find it is far below this massive
span, now bathed in a salmon pink of low-angle light. Lovely. After a meditational
break, we continue along to the junction for the Hop Valley Trail. After filling
and stowing the water bwana with stream water, we filter water for tomorrow's hike
through Hop Valley to our first cache.
As the pack straps, and my old bones, groan a bit, the trail climbs steeply for
several hundred feet, then drops into the valley. It's a tree-studded lovely
lower stretch that greets us as our feet complain about all the extra weight.
Luck be with us, Camp C of Hop Valley is only 2 or less miles from the junction.
With cold air flooding down canyon, we find a delightful, albeit without water,
camp under stately Ponderosa Pines and flanked tightly by soaring redrock walls.
Day 2: Water, water, everywhere: (End of Hop Valley to edge of Wildcat Trail,
10 miles or so.) The night is punctuated by chilled air and a thinning sleeping
bag. We wake to more chill. Steam pours out of the hot cups of tea as the sun
glazes the fluted walls, but not us. We begin hiking in pants and gloves, but
soon they are stored. Now we see the reason A, B, and C camps are crowded
together - cows in the wonderful now flowing water. Well, OK, not so wonderful.
Apparently we are to cross 2.5+ miles of private land, and cows foul the water
for miles. Republican defilement in this land of stunning beauty. Back and forth,
back and forth, we cross the shallow sandy course, gazing at the delicate ripples
and the alluring clarity of the water. Water, water, everywhere - but not a good
drop to drink. Sand walking, then up an old road bed and back into the park to
find our first water cache. Slumped under scrub oaks, we enjoy water gorging with
lunch. Crossing the road (strange, indeed), we hike the connector trail, weaving
through open grass and woodlands tinged by an old fire.
It's a four mile roll to
connect with the route from the Wildcat TH, from which to continue toward Wildcat
Canyon, past the branch to Northgate Peaks and the sensuous Subway. Here, while
stretched out near the junction, we encounter three hikers who generously give us
four batteries for our digital camera. My extra batteries are near the visitor
center, and last night's cold temperatures did in the others. It now becomes
obvious that the Brian Head mouse also chewed my platypus water bladder, for
it is leaking inside my pack and gets retired to the outside of the pack. Up
at the head of the drainage we camp, at our second cache of delightful, deluxe
water. There is barely enough light to pitch the tent and cook before stars
jump into view.
Day 3: Hail Wildcat: (8-9 miles to Potato Hollow.) It isn't sunrise, but a flash
of lightning gets me up with a jolt. Looking up, I see stars. Yet, circling around
the star patch are thunderheads. Thunderheads at 5 a.m.? Yikes, so I wrap up the
packs in time for the first hail storm. We pack up and head toward Wildcat Spring
and Canyon, to be assaulted by close and frightening lightning and pounding hail.
There is water in the spring, but not much and we don't stop because the water is
running cold off our noses. Gloves, anorak, rain pants much of the day. After
about four miles, we reach the junction to Lava Point, perhaps the high point of
the trip? Yes, at about 7600'. Red Maple and yellow Aspen leaves look lovely amidst
the hail stones. We circle above deep and mystic Wildcat Canyon, and gaze at distant
views of temples and benches swirling out of the mist. Spotlights of sun break
through to illuminate the contrast of fall foliage against dark basalt. Up on the
West Rim, we slog along, picking up pounds of clay and Ponderosa needles on our
boots. Occasional rain now. Oh, oh, no water at Potato Hollow Spring. We might
have a dry breakfast despite our daily drenching today.
We set up the siltarp over the tent door and cook in this flimsy vestibule as
clouds collide with our tent.
Day 4: Veiled Threat of Rain: (Potato Hollow and down and out; 10+ miles.)
The night winds and pelting relentless rain causes restless sleep. Popping
my head out to see the 'vestibule' scattered about, I see that the local forecast
is for more of the same on the morning of Day 4.
Clouds boil and roil as we climb the Horse Pasteur Plateau and edge along the
stunning Rim Trail, overlooking the deep gouges of Right Fork and Phantom Valley,
and the checkerboard mesas of Inclined Temple and the distant Bishopdick. Hiking
along at 7300,' Winter conditions prevail, and this is punctuated by horizontal
bits of graupel. Mostly, it drizzles on us as we round the Southern loop of the
Rim Trail and drop down to the West Rim Spring. Stopping to survey our scheduled
camp along the rim, Kathleen reminds me of Lupitas' burritas to keep me trudging
toward Scout Lookout, Walter's Wiggles, and the rest of the descent off the West
Rim to 4300' at the TH (a 3000' drop from rim to TH). Startling Fall reds, oranges,
screaming yellows burst into view in small cleft parks along the way. Sheets and
veils of rain glimmer before the red-streaked massif of The Great White Throne.
After the pounding descent, we settle into the park shuttle for the canyon trip
back to the truck. Here we are, warm, in dry clothes and savoring Lupitas'
burritas in Cedar City, having enjoyed the zenith of zion zen, with zeugma
(a figure of speech in which one word is made to refer to two or more other
words, but has to be differently understood in the different contexts), as
in this title. The zenful enlightenment we achieve is stimulated by soaring
zoroastian temples, the contemplation of hail stones on variegated Fall
Aspen leaves, and the beauty and simplicity of walking meditation, the zenith
of zion zen, among the temples any human would love to call "church."
Carlos Castenada once wrote: "To believe that the world
is only as you think it is, is stupid. The world is a mysterious place. Especially in the
twilight."
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