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I had to do it. I'd just finished reading The Monkey Wrench Gang, and knew that now would be a great time of year to visit the desert. There were other reasons, too: I'd just blown $500 on gear for this fall's planned Grand Canyon trip at REI's flagship store (Confluence Park, Denver). Furthermore we'd just had a snowstorm; it should be spring, already! But I didn't really care to take a trip alone, so I began working on my cubicle buddy - the very one, in fact, who had lent me his copy of Abbey's book.
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Salt Creek
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Online, Frank and I revisited some of my Chessler Park pictures from my last trip to the Needles, and I suggested that we try to find the pristine Virginia Park. He didn't need much encouragement; on very short notice we arranged time off from work, and began a mad dash for the Needles district very early that Saturday morning.
We arrived in Moab in record time (a little over 5 hours from Denver). I had to curb my eagerness to get into the desert; hunger called, so we stopped at the Eclecticafe (352 North Main Street) and downed quiche. Another stop by Pagan Mountaineering (McStiff's plaza), then City Market, and finally the Moab Brewery, where we obtained 1/2 gallon of refreshment. After the obligatory stop at Newspaper Rock, we blew into Needles.
First thing's first: Camping arrangements. Campground: Full. Backpacking? Done fulled-up. We made the ranger at the backcountry office frown when we mentioned Virginia Park, but nonetheless we obtained a pass for the Salt Creek Zone, with the following night at the designated site of Lost Canyon #1. This was good: We hadn't hiked - let alone backpacked - at all since fall, and getting to these areas wouldn't require more than about 4 miles total foot-travel on any one day.
With the weekend's plans laid out, we were eager to go explore a bit of the park. We drove to the Elephant Hill Trailhead, and set out up Elephant hill road. It's apparent why this is a famous 4WD road - we came across several sections that seemed impassable with a stock 4WD. Hummers not allowed: If the 18" steps don't stop your vehicle, the narrow one-way rock passages might.
Exhausted after a long drive from Denver followed by a 7-mile hike, we settle down along Indian Creek Road, along with all the other folks banished to BLM land for the night. The Scorpion Pale Ale tasted mighty fine after this full first day.
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Petroglyphs at the Peekaboo Trailhead
(false color)
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Morning showed us what the Indian Creek area had in store. Gorgeous slickrock beckoned from the near horizon. After an investigatory jaunt, we proceeded to the Needles Outpost for, of all things . . . a spoon. I guess we'd packed too quickly. Back at the Visitors Center, we checked road conditions to the Peekaboo Trailhead again (a couple of Jeeps had gotten stuck there the day before). We arrived at the trailhead a short drive later, and set out.
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Gitzo 2227 Explorer
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Salt Creek is pretty amazing, once you shake off your city ways and get into "desert mode". Its side canyons lead you up to magnificent heights above the valley; Salt Creek itself occasionally flows into sandstone-rimmed pools deep enough for cooling off. Tiny deer are around, but we never saw one. And there's an utter cacophony from critters that emerge only at night. Other backpackers were only occasionally seen, no doubt due to the Park Service's effort to limit visitors in the backcountry to minimize use and enhance your experience.
I hadn't even taken any pictures yet; even though I packed in the camera (Canon D60 with 17-40 mm f/4L) and tripod (Gitzo 2227 with the 1276M ballhead). And photographic opportunities abound; one trip up the side canyons led to vignette after vignette, perfect for nymph-placement. I said to Frank, "...if we had a model, we could do a nude here...or here! What great light!". Alas - with no model, I had to settle for - ugh!...cactus pictures, as these were in-bloom. This gave me my first real opportunity, though, to use the Explorer with the off-center column extended. This was easy to do, and worked out nicely.
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Not-so-fancy moves
along
The Peekaboo Trail,.
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The next day we retraced our path, and after revisiting the Jeep at the trailhead, we set out for the designated site in Lost Canyon. Up a ladder in a crevasse? No problem! Follow cairns along the slickrock? Easy! Negotiate exposed areas with a 40 lb. pack? Say what!?!
I'm scared of heights. We'd done about 1/2 of the trail along the slickrock to our last night's campsite, when we met two backpackers coming out. "Any more exposure up ahead?" I asked. "Yeah", they said. "Worse than what I've already seen?". "Yeah, worse." but they looked at my feet and said, "...but your shoes will stick." Frank and I continued, passing each other the backpacks twice during tricky areas, and cheating death at several locations ("Peekaboo! Exposure!"). Finally (thankfully!), we descended, turned a corner, and settled into Lost Canyon site #1.
No water. The wash at our site was sandy and dry. Frank had already done some exploring, and not seen any water to drink, let alone to get into to cool-off. After a bit of lounging around camp, we set out up-canyon, as we had been told that there was water there. After 30 minutes of walking, we came across a puddle. Then a trickle. Then a flowing stream that led to a pool big enough to get in! A dip in the desert can make your day.
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Your author on the Peekaboo "Trail"
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That night I hardly slept; when I did nod off, I dreamed of falling, and woke up. I finally got to sleep at about 4 am, only to get up shortly after 6. Frank and I entertained the idea of going back a different way just to avoid the exposure. Frank wasn't as bugged as I was, though, and we decided to go back the way we'd come.
Somehow, the return trip wasn't as harrowing; but you can bet I was in a fine mood when it was all over. Back at the Jeep, we celebrated our survival of the bad exposure with the last bit of still-cool Scorpion Ale. Mmmmm.
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