Black Dragons and White Rims

Last fall, we traveled down to our usual haunt, Moab. This time, instead of whizzing past everything along the way, we explored the glorious regions in-between. Scrumptious sandy cream fillings should not be skipped.

Southern Utah is spectacular in the fall, but its daylight is short lived. Since Jason and I knew we would have limited sun by the time we neared Moab, we opted to stop on our way into town at Black Dragon Canyon in the San Rafael Swell. Never heard of the San Rafael Swell? Before this outing, I was familiar with the name but not the experience. Now I know it is a dome of shale, limestone, and sandstone that was thrust up 40-60 million years ago and later eroded into countless gulches, gullies, hoodoos, badlands, and buttes. As implied, we had never been to the Swell in all its 60 million years until that autumn afternoon.

big in the Black
Some of the anthropomorphic pictographs in Black Dragon Canyon are more than six feet tall.

Now that we’ve established what the San Rafael Swell is, let’s confront the Black Dragon. Yes, there’s a place called Black Dragon Canyon. As we are nerds, I’m going to assume you don’t need an explanation as to why this particular spot held greater appeal for us, and I’ll just move on. A 4×4 trail runs through the canyon. Along it, some rather remarkable scarlet pictographs can be accessed half a mile up via vehicle or foot. In the 1940s, someone chalked a group of them to transform them into a dragon (a damaging practice), hence the canyon’s moniker. These pictographs were created in Barrier Canyon Style, a category of rock art found primarily in eastern Utah mostly originating 1,500 to 7,000 years ago. Near these bright and larger-than-life figures, a wall of Freemont petroglyphs can also be seen dating back 1,000-1,500 years.

Black Dragon
This pictograph panel was chalked in the 1940s in the outline of a dragon, but it is in fact a group of two humans and three animals.

As we were examining these impressive panels, a hiker wandered by and told us of a cave at the top of some nearby scree piles amassed at the base of a cliff. Pass up a cave? Not Jason. We didn’t know if we would be able to find the entrance or, if we could, what we would find inside. It took some scrambling and exploring, but we located one of its small openings. The Dragon’s Lair (the cave’s unofficial name) was formed when the mouth of a deep alcove collapsed. Its cramped entries are at odds with its contents. It’s a spacious, slanted, dust-filled cavern that angles down as a winding trail runs through it. Although I am not often a cave fan, I’d say this one is worth the clamber and search required to find it.

Dragon's Lair
Here, Jason is pointing to the Dragon’s Lair’s openings. Can’t see them? Exactly.

The Dragon’s Lair proved quite engrossing, and nightfall crept up on us quickly. Hence, we turned around at a popular stopping point half a mile from the other entrance into the canyon. Since this trail is mostly flat, we were able to move speedily and only had to use headlamps for about 0.5 miles of our return. In the end, we ended up hiking 5.4 miles.

If you too would like to visit the Black Dragon and its lair, turn off 1-70 at mile marker 147 and take the gated dirt road. You’ll do a quick left, and then travel about another mile to the start of the canyon. If you have a high-clearance vehicle, you can drive through the canyon, but why bother with tires when you have perfectly adequate feet?

spectacles and tingles
Our endpoint on the Lathrop Trail was an overlook that provided astonishing views and some tummy butterflies.

With the limited supply of daylight considered, we debated the best hike for our next day. We chose the first half of the Lathrop Trail in the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park. The Lathrop Trail is passed by all visitors heading into Island in the Sky shortly after the visitor center, yet it doesn’t seem to interest many of them. We saw one or two groups our entire journey. For that perfect combo of a people shortage and a scenery excess, my feet are ever at the ready! Why does this path not get more foot action? I have no idea. Its panoramas are as delicious as anywhere else in the park.

slacks and sunshine
Since the weather was practically perfect, pants and an on-and-off-again jacket were all I needed to stay warm as we undertook the Lathrop Trail.

If you are ambitious, Lathrop can be taken for a 10-mile-roundtrip trek to the White Rim Road. If you’re very ambitious, it can be taken 10 miles one way to the Colorado River. It is the only path in Island in the Sky that reaches the river. However, we were not very ambitious or even ambitious. We opted to just walk five miles to a stunning and daunting viewpoint overlooking the White Rim and Canyonlands’ desolate expanse. The section we completed was relatively flat. Had we continued, we would have had to navigate a scree field that drops 900 feet in less than one mile. Yes, we picked our turnaround point prudently… due solely to the limited daylight of course.

lofty Lathrop
The Lathrop Trail is not for those particularly adverse to heights. I circled the point where the path crosses this corner to illustrate that fact.

Beyond the delight of being on top of the world with a matchless, barren paradise spread out beneath me, I loved this path because of the varied terrain it wanders through. It starts in rolling grasslands called Grays Pasture and then zigzags through a city of Navajo sandstone domes. Eventually, it passes through gravelly scrub and sand on its way to sheer sandstone cliffsides textured by rock rubble. Grays Pasture is the widest part of the flat mesa top on which Island in the Sky sits, reaching a width of about two miles. Gazing around this meadow, you’d never guess you were 1,000 feet up from the canyons on both sides, but you certainly appreciate that fact when you hit the canyon’s rim.

Grand View Point
Grand indeed!

After Lathrop, we didn’t have time for another hike, but we decided to do the two miles to the Grand View Point and back anyway. We had to navigate most of our return in the dark, which was generally easy with our headlamps and the giant cairns along the trail. We did get confounded in a couple spots but managed to not remain permanently lost or stumble off a cliff.

grand and dim
It wouldn’t have been a Sabin hike without some strolling in the dark.

On our way home the next day, we stopped at two spots. The first, Crystal Geyser, wasn’t far off the beaten path, but we had never bothered to take the 15-minute drive from I-70 to see it. Crystal Geyser is the strange result of natural and manmade endeavors. Unlike most geysers, it is powered by cold not hot water; steam is not involved but pressurized CO2 gas. Crystal Geyser is one of the most famous of these rare cold-water geysers and was created in 1935 when oil seekers drilling an exploratory well hit an aquifer saturated with high quantities of CO2 2,600 feet down. The geyser typically erupts every 8 to 27 hours. Sadly, we didn’t witness an eruption, but I don’t regret deviating anyway. It was uncanny to observe what seemed like a natural wonder coming from a pipe in the ground. You could hear the same whooshing activity in its vents as the geysers in Yellowstone. Likewise, it had a similar sulfur smell and series of travertine pools surrounding it. Occasionally, when humans interfere with Mother Earth the results can be beautiful… and apparently explosive.

Crystal Geyser
At Crystal Geyser, nature and industry mix in strange but striking ways.

Next, we paused to check out Spirit Arch in the same section of the San Rafael Swell we visited on our way down. Unlike the path through Black Dragon Canyon, the trail to Spirit Arch is solely for hiking. It goes down two short ravines in a Y shape, Petroglyph Canyon and Double Arch Canyon. One has, as you’d expect, two arches collectively called Spirit Arch. That gully ends in an alcove with abrupt stone walls on three sides. Spirit Arch can be seen high in one of these. While the arches are nifty, they are too far away to examine closely. In my opinion, they are overshadowed by the understated exquisiteness of the canyon’s striped sandstone and graceful curved walls.

Spirit Arch
Spirit Arch is actually two arches.

The petroglyphs in Petroglyph Canyon were not easy to locate even with the blog posts we found about finding them. They are not at the very end of the canyon as some online information suggests but near the end on the right side. The short side trail that leads to them doesn’t look like a real path, so it is easy to miss. They aren’t large but are quite distinct. What I thought most interesting about this panel were the lines of tracks the artist took the time to carve for each animal and human depicted. This two-canyon trail was two miles of easy hiking, but it took us about two hours to complete because we stopped often to appreciate our surroundings. We didn’t see anyone else the entire time.

We’ve wisely realized that Moab shouldn’t be our only destination when we go to Moab. There is so much to experience and appreciate between here and there. I’d wager we will find more enroute distractions with each visit whether there be dragons, wild horses, or sailor’s heads.

Perspectives on Kauai Part III

The Tide’s Perspective

The next morning, we joined a Hidden Valley Falls Kayak Adventure. This involved paddling two miles down the Hule’ia Stream through the Hule’ia National Wildlife Refuge, which protects a plethora of endangered bird species. This river was also used for scenes in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. While the water in the Hule’ia Stream is calm, the banks are unforgivingly filled with dense jungle growth making proper navigation a must. After a rough, uncoordinated start, Jason and I managed to keep our vessel away from those wild edges. One couple in our group did not learn as quickly and had unwanted bank encounters every few minutes. And yes, much cursing was involved in their frequent run-ins. The group went ashore and hiked through that packed forest to reach a series of small waterfalls and a pond with a rope swing. The waterfalls weren’t impressive compared to others viewed on our trip, but Jason did enjoy the rope swing. Unfortunately, our time at the pond was quite limited, less than promised, so I didn’t even get a chance to take a dip. Still, a cool outing.

Hule'ia Stream
Although called a stream, Hule’ia is more like a river.
craft cooperation
Operating a two-person kayak demands cooperation and patience.

After kayaking, we weren’t done splashing. We headed to Po’ipu Beach for some snorkeling. Here’s my take on Po’ipu Beach. The sand turns into rocky shelves and stabby coral very quickly. Those obstacles make it difficult to enter the water with fins on and painful to enter it without something covering your feet. However, the fish observing starts as soon as you can stick your head in, and there is plenty of ocean life in these shallow waters.

Jas of the Jungle
Jason missed this perfect opportunity to employ his best George of the Jungle vocals.

What I love most about snorkeling is that second when your face submerges, and the sounds of the waves and people talking on the beach instantly evaporate. A whole world appears beneath you, a world you were oblivious to just moments before. In that still realm, activity abounds. It’s a lesson on what we miss routinely in our surroundings due to our limited awareness.

Po'ipu Beach
Snorkeling requires curiosity rather than specific skills.

I came across at least 40 fish in the limited time we spent snorkeling, possibly much more. Am I a fish expert? No. Is there a good chance I didn’t know what I was looking at? Yes, but I think I correctly identified a substantial portion of what I saw. There were humuhumunukunukuapa’a, coronetfish, Hawaiian sergeant, spotted boxfish, enenue, lowfin chub, Hawaiian parrotfish, wana (long-spined) sea urchin, lined butterflyfish, goatfish, and Hawaiian cauliflower coral. I viewed many more species, but with my limited knowledge of tropical fish, I had no idea how to identify the rest of them.

The Pavement’s Perspective

The subsequent morning, we took a road trip up to the North Shore with Ha’ena State Park our primary destination. We didn’t let that main target deter us from many stops and detours. First among those detours was Wailua Falls. This 173-foot drop was all about power and volume. Our next stop on the other hand, ‘Opaeka’a Falls, was a willowy tress of a cascade. The contrast between the two outpourings was nearly as dramatic as their waterworks. Shopping, eating, and bathroom seeking consumed a bit more of our time until we ended up at the Kilauea Lighthouse, which represents the northernmost part of the main Hawaiian Islands and home to thousands of rare and endangered seabirds including red-footed boobies, wedge-tailed shearwaters, Laysan albatrosses, and Newell’s shearwaters. Afterward, it was back to more eating at Wishing Well Shave Ice and more gawking at the fabulous Hanalei Valley, one of Kauai’s many iconic vistas.

Wailua Falls
Wailua Falls often has two distinct streams pouring off it, but when waterflow is high it turns into this intense united spill.
'Opaeka'a Falls
‘Opaeka’a Falls’ pale chutes contrast the dark basalt from which they tumble.
Kilauea Lighthouse
The Kilauea Lighthouse was restored in 2013 after 100 years in service.

We also halted to investigate an opening in the vine-covered cliffsides near Ha’ena State Park known as the Manini-holo Dry Cave. This cave is 300 yards deep with an undulating floor. Light filters in, but the dips in the bottom bounced over by sunshine are impossible to see into making passage uncertain.

Ha'ena Beach
Ha’ena Beach Park offers captivating scenery but water too unprotected to safely swim in.
Ke'e bound
Exotic, thy name is Ha’ena.

We had passes for the Ha’ena State Park shuttle but purposefully missed our pickup time. We didn’t want to be tied to a schedule on our last day on the island. Instead, we walked from Ha’ena Beach Park, where we found a parking spot, down to Ke’e Beach. While this was only a mile, the shoreline in this area drops fast and rocks abound through stretches, complicating the journey. We passed a resting endangered monk seal, which opened her eyes momentarily and vocalized a little at us. Of course, we did not approach her as we strive to be good citizens of this planet. We made it to Ke’e Beach just in time for the towering cliffs of the Na Pali Coast to blush under the attention of the setting sun.

beach bark
Our walk to Ke’e Beach was a source of irritability for some in our group, but to me it was a source of interest.

The Ongoing Perspective

Our last morning on the islands, we attempted to complete the Maha’ulepu Heritage Trail again while waiting for our flight, tempting rain and wreckage. I wish I could say the third time was the charm, but it wasn’t. While we made it farther than our previous tries, we ran out of time to reach the mysterious Makauwahi Sinkhole or Waiopili Petroglyphs. However, a viewpoint overlooking Maha’ulepu Beach did make a scenic end to our final, unsuccessful shot.

leave a lei
Our hotel had a spot to leave your leis as a tribute to the memories gained during your stay.

With that fragmentary hike, our time on the Garden Isle came to an end. In our brief visit, we skimmed clouds, hiked into garish gullies, flitted along rims, floated on currents, sloshed through unshakeable mud, dipped in tides, and hovered over pools. In keeping with the great vacation paradox, we both slowed down to perceive our surroundings and sped up to perceive as much as possible. Our understanding of our world increased as did our acknowledgements of our limited insights. Vacation victory!

Perspectives on Kauai Part II

The Crevices’ Perspective

The next morning, we headed west to the dry and rusty side of the island. There, once-black volcanic rock has eroded into brilliant scarlets due to its high iron oxide content. After stopping at Aloha Sweet Delights for some malasadas and manju, which I would highly recommend, we hit the Kukui Trail in Waimea State Park. This trail falls 2,300 feet into the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific.” While gravity was ever on our minds, and we knew we must reclimb what we lost, we willingly descended 1,100 feet over 1.25 miles to gorge ourselves on this chasm’s chaotic colors and thin ribbons of basalt. Thankfully, it was easier than expected returning due to the surplus oxygen at 2,700 feet above sea level. (Being a mountain girl does have its advantages.) Unfortunately, it was not less sweaty than expected. Blast you humidity! Or blast me humidity?

Waimea Canyon
Waimea Canyon is 10 miles long, one mile wide, and over 3,600 feet deep as a result of river erosion and crater collapse.
'ohi'a
‘Ohi’a is native to Hawaii and was used traditionally to construct houses, weapons, statues, and tools.

After our first hike and a brief detour to examine the Waimea Canyon Lookout, we headed out on the Pihea Trail. With a short extra spur up the Pihea Vista Trail, which only Jason managed, we trekked 2.3 miles on this stunning but challenging route, easily one of the oddest paths I’ve ever been on. It starts on the lip of the Kalalau Valley 4,000 feet from the ocean. Our guidebook called it “often muddy.” However, lured by the dramatic views and the dazzling fern and ‘ohi’a forest, we let the ease of the first section convince us that we’d lucked out and hit the trail during a dry spell. Therefore, we didn’t appreciate how long the rest of the way would take us or how much muck we’d have to navigate. We ended up returning to our car in the dark, and Jason was the only one who made it up the Vista extension thanks to a giant pit filled with mud at least half a foot deep blocking all routes. I lacked the primate skills to bypass it, though I considered taking some big risks. It’s a good thing my fear of becoming a sludge critter overshadowed my desire to complete the task. The bits of mud I accumulated on other sections of the trail were extremely hard to remove. After three scrubbings, my legs were still invisibly caked.

Pihea Trail
What is that undulating cranny? That’s the Pihea Trail.
Trail or trench?
That ditch in the middle? Yup, that’s the Pihea Trail again.
muck calamity pending
I thought seriously about trying to get around that mud pit by scurrying along the wobbly fence. I’m pretty sure that would have ended in disaster.

On our drive out of the canyon, we paused for a moment to glance at the stars. The Milky Way stretched directly over our heads striping the sky with its distinct chalky shimmers. Sometimes, a good sighting of that streak alone can remind you of your irrelevance, but we’d had millions of years of vibrant geology to prompt that feeling already.

Kalalau Valley
The Kalalau Valley can only be accessed by a kayak or a long hike.

The Flow’s Perspective

The following day, we toured the Allerton Garden, which is part of the National Tropical Botanical Garden. Over the space of 2.5 hours, we learned about the history and flora of this deliberate landscape, which began to be designed more than 100 years ago. There, bamboos, rare palms, cycads, gingers, lilies, and countless other species blend with unique water features to form peaceful and impressive pockets of life. South Pacific, Jurassic Park, and Pirates of the Caribbean are amongst the films that have used this flourishing setting as a backdrop. While our tour was marvelous, it was also wet. We weren’t prepared for the soaking we received. Moreover, we didn’t learn our lesson about not trusting the sunshine to last on Kauai. More on our stupidity later.

Moreton Bay fig
These gigantic ficus were planted in 1952 and featured in Jurassic Park.
Spouting Horn
Blowholes like Spouting Horn achieve their explosive powers due to hydraulic compression.

We deviated on our return from the garden to check out nearby Spouting Horn, a blowhole formed from a lava tube. This feature can blast ocean water up to 50 feet in the air. Another nearby tube that only fills with air emits grumbling and hissing sounds while Spouting Horn spews brine, adding to the illusion of its legend. In Hawaiian mythology, those noises emanate from a giant lizard trapped in the blowhole by a crafty fisherman. The “lizard’s” laments sounded like a Yellowstone geyser. The Yellowstone of the Pacific? No?

sand sculpture
This sea sculpted rock was a sand dune some 350,000 years ago.
Pinnacles
Kauai is the oldest of the Hawaiian Islands. It began forming five million years ago.

Later that afternoon, we again attempted to hike the Maha’ulepa Heritage Trail, this time with Jason’s parents. We failed once more not because of gashes but because of gushes. When we had gone just shy of a mile, it started pouring. We ran for cover, but cover wasn’t close… it was a mile away. By the time we reached our hotel, no part of us was dry and much was coated with Kauai’s persistent dirt.

a showery stroll
A significant downpour came upon us suddenly and dissipated just as abruptly five or ten minutes later.

The Locals’ Perspective

We spent a share of the next afternoon with friends who had moved to Kauai, which gave me a chance to pepper them with questions about their island experiences. They kindly took us to Farm Reservoir where we attempted eFoiling and paddle boarding. Well, Jason tried it, and I tried to take pictures of his undertakings in the rain. Not the easiest thing… for either of us. In case you didn’t catch that, yes, it did drizzle on us again.

Foiled you!
Hydrofoils rely on a wing-like structure to lift the board and rider above the water’s surface.

Afterward, we had a fantastic dinner at Eating House 1849, our favorite meal of the trip. Online reservations were booked six weeks out, but we happened to walk by the restaurant and happened to ask about availability, and they happened to have a spot an hour later.

Next week, more perspective coverage is coming.