Rambling Hemlock: Solo backpacking in canyon country

Sometimes I just want to spend vast quantities of time traveling inordinately short distances (as the crow flies anyway).

Creeping along the edge.

Is this a way down?

Where the methods of locomotion involve crab walking and butt scooting. Where you can stop and look at everything. Like examining the spines of the prickly pears close up and watching the evening shadows drifting across the landscape.

The shorter, more numerous spines of a cactus are called glochids. Unlike the larger, easy to see spines, glochids are barbed and easily break apart so are nearly impossible to dislodge.

Shadows drifting across the canyoncountry.

Doing the Ledge Shimmy.

Winter seems to invite such types of travel. Ice makes me even inclined not to rush anything. Complete lack of people makes me feel more free to explore.

Snow/ slickrock.

My time isn't as vast as I'd like. I have to work Saturday morning so I don't get to the trailhead until afternoon. But slowing down and having solo time makes it seem more expansive. Normally the late start would annoy me, but I’m grateful for the extra hours of pay. Even though the government shutdown is now over, it will still take a while to get our paperwork though to get us hired back.

Utah ice skating rink/ swimming hole.

I head up a canyon and get my tent set up about an hour before sunset. Enough time to play on the rocks. I find a slickrock superhighway and follow it around twists and turns. I relish the feel of rock beneath my feet. The highway gets narrower and becomes a ledge, then opens up again. I love not knowing what will happen or if it will dead-end or if I will be able to go forever.

Following slickrock.

Surreal evening light reflected in a pothole.

The rock continues all the way out to a point where I can see forever. The La Sals, the Blues, and even ISKY. Such expansiveness.

I love these long nights where I can zip into my sleeping bag by 5:30 PM. The forecast calls for lows in the upper teens and low twenties. Cold enough that my eyeballs feel like they are going to freeze. For the first 2 hours, I always wonder if I will be warm enough. But then something magic happens and I am snug and toasty. I drift off to sleep listening to “Podcasts with Park Rangers” which restores my faith in human goodness and makes everything seem right with the world.

In the morning I play “I wonder what’s up this side canyon” and “I wonder if I can climb up to that alcove.” Two of my favorite games. I realize I've spent all day going a handful of miles as the crow flies. Perfect!