Second chances

The second backpacking trip since my surgery meant I could go a little further but had to be careful not to overdo it.

The perfect time to check out some trails that I’d overlooked because they were previously deemed “too short” in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.

To minimize time spent carrying my backpack, I start with an out and back along the Big Springs Trail with only a daypack.  Riparian areas mean good habitat for plants like milkweed.

The iNaturalist community identified this for me as Asclepias tuberosa interior. I love how there are so many people out there who can distinguish the different species of milkweeds and who freely share their knowledge.

By mid-afternoon, I return to my car, drive to another trailhead, and sort my backpacking gear. I’d previously scouted out a patch of slick-rock that showed promise for some exploring and camping about 2 miles in, which is also within the at-large zone camping area my permit is for. Most backcountry camping in Needles is at designated sites, but when I am solo, I really prefer being able to choose my own site away from everyone.

Not as flat as I remembered.

The slick-rock is just as I'd remembered, thankfully. I make my way along it for over a half mile as the crow flies without having to step on any biological soil crust or do any sketchy rock scootching. There is plenty of area to ramble about and peer into canyons and wonder about routes for future trips.

The miles are short, but I try to make up for it by savoring every bit of beauty I encounter.

Much time is spent deciding upon an optimal campsite. Balancing the risks of an exposed site with the rewards of more spacious views. I take a risk and camp in the highest spot around, but make careful note of a sheltered spot nearby.

It's frustrating not being free to hike as far as I'd like, but it is nice having the energy to simply watch. The sky often does interesting things.

Settling in to watch the sky in my warm cocoon.

I figured that the lack of clouds would mean that the sunset wouldn’t be photo-worthy. Silly me.

The orangeness begins to creep across the landscape.

This vivid orange happens for mere moments, and then it is gone.

The stillness of the evening is interrupted by the buzzing of mosquitos. They hover about my face. I half-heartedly swat at them, amused by the novelty of their presence so early in the season.

Soon they are gone and I'm left to watch the stars come out in peace. The sliver of a crescent moon sky is so bright and I savor the 360 views from the warmth of my sleeping bag. Nothing obscuring my view. I don't think I've ever camped anywhere quite this wide-open. The expansiveness is breathtaking.
***
Fierce gusts of wind rattle me awake at 1 AM. I move my stuff down into the sheltered spot and fall back asleep. It was definitely worth it to have those 7 hours in that amazing spot on top of the world. Wind seems a fact of the desert in late winter/ early spring. Even in my sheltered spot, it swirls down to find me. But it doesn't steal too much of my warmth.

The next morning, I am up hiking before dawn, like usual.

Back at the trailhead, I trade out my backpack for a daypack yet again, and head off for yet another short trip. Another trail I've never seen.

First flowers of the season- biscuitroot!

More views of the La Sals in the distance

I don't want to leave so I stop for one last, short walk to Roadside Ruin.

Glad I saved all these trails for now, when I need some short but scenic hikes. So far, everything feels like it's healing OK. Still lumpy with scar-tissue and tight, but if it holds all my insides in place, I'm grateful. Getting my body repaired feels like a second chance. I am so glad I get to keep hiking. My Dad (who had this same surgery) tells me that it'll never feel the same again though. Scars, they stick with you forever.

More information

Backcountry permits are required for all overnight trips in Canyonlands National Park. Please pack out all your trash including your toilet paper and poop. Wag bags are even (sometimes) provided when the visitor center is closed.

Pack out your poop, please.