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Category Archives: Zion

the return of Jimmy Utah

Some photos from our four-day weekend…

Jimmy Utah

look ma, no pants!… and other tales from the fairy pools

Yesterday afternoon, Molly and I headed to Zion to go hunting for frog photos. Hoping to find a place as equally frogtastic as the amphibious whorehouse we stumbled on last year, which long-time readers may remember from the post “no means no Kermit, and other tales from the first backpack of the season,” we failed miserably in comparison. But we did find a few frogs, lots of tadpoles (which weren’t quite mature enough to leave the water, though some had begun sprouting legs), and some really camera-shy lizards.

While hiking along the creek heading to the fairy pools, and not wanting to get my pants wet while crouching for frogs, I decided to take them off. And let me tell you, hiking without pants is the only way to go. It’s very freeing, while not being illegal. Besides, my pasty white legs needed a little sun (while photographing me later, Molly said “I need to use manual exposure because you’re so white!”).

After going for a dip at the waterfall dead-end, the clouds rolled over and we needed to get out. The whole day was back and forth between downpours and hot sun, and it would be another hour before the sun came back. We took off for the car, and got back to it to find my car keys had fallen off my carabiner somewhere along the hike… hopefully not in the water or off a rock ledge past where the trail had ended! Cameras seeking shelter under the car, and Molly hovering next to it, I took off in the pouring rain (still in my skivvies) to find the keys… which were luckily not too far back. But even if they were, I didn’t mind… such misadventures are what make the adventure!

Tree. Frog. Haha, get it? I’m lame, I know.

Molly photographing tadpoles

the glorious skies before the rain came back

me sunning and catching tadpoles… photos obviously by Molly

lentil soup, homemade and delicious

For a while now, I couldn’t wait for 2008 to end. It was a fabulous year, but its last couple weeks, and maybe months, seemed to be anything but. The promise of a new year makes it easy to think about new beginnings. I know any day could just as easily mark the start of a new dawn, but sometimes it’s hard to be motivated to think that way when things are getting you down. So I anxiously awaited the new year, and a clean canvas with which to draw on.

And then yesterday, just hours away from the new year I so desperately yearned for, I found myself being surprised with my own hope and optimism, by mud, chance encounters, and new friends. A great day in simple ways, but yet again offering just enough hope and insight of what’s to come, and more importantly, reminding me of what I really am… happy and hopeful, not sad and stressed.

After ringing in the new year with a new friend last night, I had just enough energy to make some lentil soup before hitting the sack. No, not opening a can of lentil soup, but making my own this time. Homemade. No strange ingredients, no MSG, no crap. And in 2009, this is how I’m going to live my life… homemade and deeeeelicious.

It’s gonna be a great year. How do I know this? Well, I guess I don’t. But the year started by making soup, doing handstands, and then trudging through miles of mud to fly a kite (when it wasn’t even windy out). And seriously, any year that starts like that is bound to be a good one.

in the clouds

gone fishin’

I got up way too early and got home way too late yesterday. It was a very long, very wonderful day spent fishing with my friend Andrew up at Kolob Reservoir. A veteran fly fisher, Andrew says the best time to fish is early morning. So we got there really, really early, but we didn’t catch our first fish until afternoon. Figures. It was so beautiful out though, and with both our dogs along for the ride, we had a great time, fish or no fish. The osprey flying overhead seemed to be having the same luck as us fishing.

Later in the afternoon, as more clouds rolled over, we found a sweet spot and the fish were practically flying into our boat. But don’t worry, they were flying out just as fast. Our barbs were de-hooked and we let the fishies go. Aside from a few I took photos of, we didn’t even take them out of the water before we let them go. I caught the big one of the day… a huge cutthroat trout over 18 inches long. He was beautiful, strong, and silky smooth. I’d never seen one up close before. Haley was intrigued too, and came in for a sniff. She didn’t know what to make of it.

We didn’t plan to fish all day, but we did. We didn’t pack up and leave until the sun was setting (and the sun was just rising when we got there). After dinner and the drive home, I was so exhausted that just standing made me dizzy. Sleep never felt so good.

I learned to fly cast in Andrew’s front yard a few weeks ago, but yesterday was my first time putting it to the test. And I certainly hope it’s not my last. I had a great time… and my cast definitely has room for improvement.

bighorns

I went hiking in Zion this weekend for the first time in a long time. Summer temperatures and tourist crowds have kept me at bay. Thinking both might have cooled down a little, I was itching to get back. Molly and I spent Saturday hiking Observation Point and hanging out in Springdale. On our way back home, we spotted a huge herd of bighorns and I stopped to take pictures. Obviously.

hippie commune kitty and other tales from a day’s work off work

As I mentioned in the previous post, I took Friday off work to show Micah around Zion. Spent Thursday night camped out at some sort of hippie commune ranch thing. Woke up and hung around with hippie commune kitty.

Micah chillaxed on a hammock.

We visited the ghost town Grafton, got breakfast (not in Grafton), and headed up to the park. We saw a lizard. You know me and animals. I cannot pass up such photos, as repetitive as they get.

Then we voyaged up to Hidden Canyon… the trail I’ve meant hike to but never gotten around to. It was great.

Micah built a bunch of ridiculous cairns. It’s his thing.

Tired of the 90-degree weather, we headed to the Fairy Pools for some cooling off. It worked.

Underneath a waterfall there, was a bird’s nest. It was neat.

We met back up with Dave at the hippie commune, went to dinner, and went to bed. By 8 a.m. Saturday morning, I was on my way back home… why? Because I had to work. I may have gotten Friday off, but that didn’t save me from Saturday and Sunday shoots this weekend.

Angels Landing… at night

This week, Micah (half of my 80s prom date) headed south to my neck of the woods for the obligatory off-season trip south. I took Friday off work so I could show him around Zion. I headed there Thursday after work and we decided to hike Angels Landing at sunset. We started a little later than we would have liked to (the shuttle buses delayed our start time quite a bit), but we hit the trail around 7:30, when the sun was striking the east side of the canyon with glorious light. We knew it’d be dark on our way down, but as long as we were off the spine by dark, doing the rest of the hike in the dark was no big deal (we had our headlamps). The problem was getting back in time for the last shuttle.

We booked it up the trail, making it to the top in a record hour and five minutes (trust me, that’s fast). Here’s the view from a third of the way up.

Nearing the top, we peered over the edge to see if we could see Dave, the guy we were staying with, who was climbing the big wall route up Angels Landing. Camped out on his portaledge, he raised his PBR to us.

About five minutes from the top, I had to stop to get a photo of the light before it was gone. Good thing, because it was gone when we reached the top a few minutes later.

Micah soaking up the view.

We did not make it off the spine by dark, but the moonlight was strong enough that we were totally comfortable scrambling the last bit down in the dark. We were so comfortable in fact, that we hiked nearly the whole way down without our headlamps. We moved a little slower because of it, but it was well worth it. It wasn’t until the very end, when we were running to try to make the last shuttle, that I turned mine on so that the buses could possibly see us coming and wait for us (and also running on a trail in the dark seemed like an accident waiting to happen). Here is a 25-second exposure I made with the moonlight in Refrigerator Canyon.

We got back to the trailhead just after 10 and started walking down the middle of the road, hoping one last bus would come up behind us, and sure enough, it did… the sweeper bus that goes down just to make sure. We were happy. If we missed it, we would have had to walk over fives miles back or try to hitch a ride on a road that cars are not allowed on. So yeah, good thing we caught the bus.

And by the end of the night, I officially hit my 100 mile mark. Yee-haw!

no means no Kermit, and other tales from the first backpack of the season

This weekend, Miss Molly (henceforth referred to as Bitter Princess of the Forest) and I voyaged to the remote northwestern Kolob Canyons area of Zion. Originally planned as a long 14-mile day hike to the Kolob Arch, we instead opted to turn it into an overnight backpack to help us prep for our 40-mile backpack next month.

We were underway around noon on Saturday and returned 16 miles and 24 hours later. The main attraction was the Kolob Arch, the second-longest arch in the world, but it was so unimpressive that I’m not even including a photo here. Luckily, we stumbled upon a waterhole that made the entire hike well worth every single fly bite we endured (hundreds).

We had already set up camp and continued hiking (sans heavy backpacks) for a few miles when we stumbled on the swampy area. All of a sudden, strange noises started echoing in the air. At first I thought it was some sort of machinery, even though I found it hard to believe machinery could make its way that far into the backcountry. It must be some sort of weird bird mating call then, but no. We eventually realized that the incredibly loud noises were actually coming from the waterhole immediately to our left. Frogs. Dozens of them. I still can’t believe that loud of a noise can come from such a tiny animal, but there they were, singing their mating call in full glory. We spent about half an hour hanging out with these frogs, watching everything from a post-coital cuddle to a full-blown rape.

We hiked back out early to avoid the high, mid-day temperatures, but we still got a whiff of it. The last leg of the hike is, of course, the hardest part… a steep, mile-long uphill. Combined with a big-ass backpack and a full-on assault by an army of flies, I think it’s safe to say I wanted to kill myself (well, really just those damn flies). But well, considering I escaped the trip with nothing more than bug bites and calves only a little tight, I’d say it was a very good trip. As always, photos…