Jason’s family typically does a camping excursion at least once every summer. We try to join them if it works out. When they took a trip to Strawberry Reservoir in late June, it did. Despite this being a camping outing, it did not actually entail any camping for Jason and me. However, it did involve playing Cards Against Humanity in fake British accents while an inviting fire warmed up backsides, hiking on unoccupied trails, and driving across scenic mountainsides in a UTV. So, I think we still deserve a tiny bit of outdoor cred.
Views delighted us on all sides as we bounced along.
First and foremost, let me address how this trip became camping in name only. While the rest of the group camped at Strawberry Reservoir, one of Utah’s most popular fishing spots, we had no desire to do any angling. Therefore, we opted to spend a couple nights at Daniels Summit Lodge instead. This lodge is only 15 minutes from Strawberry, which made it too convenient to ignore as a potential sleeping location.
Being lodgers instead of campers didn’t prevent us from visiting the group’s fire for a game of Cards Against Humanity, which we played on multiple tables to allow for social distancing. We incorporated phony accents into this already ludicrous game. Somehow, I won. Yup, my mind is as warped as a funhouse mirror.
The aspens were so dense in some places they practically formed an arboreal wall.
On one day of our stay, Jason and I rented a four-seat RZR. Different portions of Jason’s family took turns occupying our backseat. We did loops that took us from forest service roads to narrower rocky routes. What could be more macho than cruising ATV roads in a rugged RZR? How about moving a giant pine tree that fell across the path just minutes before you arrived? That’s right, my tiny biceps are bigger on the inside. Yeah, okay, so I helped marginally, and Jason did most of the heavy lifting. But hey, lifting logs is one of the few ways men can prove their usefulness.
The blasts that brought down that tree were relentless that entire afternoon. They blew between 20 and over 30 MPH for hours. They assaulted Daniels Summit with micro gusts above 80 MPH. That didn’t stop us from riding our UTV to the top of Strawberry Peak, an isolated summit with an elevation of 9,714 feet. With commanding views of the Wasatch Range from Mount Timpanogos all the way to Mount Nebo, this was one of the highlights of our drive.
Apparently, some RZR models can go up to 80 MPH. That doesn’t seem necessary in a world with so many rocks.
Not camping while on this camping trip proved wiser than Jason and I have the years to expect. Although it was nearly July, winter made a temporary comeback during our stay. At Daniels Summit, the temperatures plunged from the high 70s down to the low 30s. Having walls made out of something other than nylon proved quite advantageous.
If a little 80 MPH wind couldn’t impede us, neither could some nearly freezing temperatures. After things got chilly, we hiked both the Heber Valley Overlook and Donkey Ridge Trails in the Dutch Hollow portion of Wasatch Mountain State Park, which add up to about four miles. Thanks to the threat of rain and the unusual temperatures, we saw exactly two hikers and one biker during our whole afternoon spent on these popular trails. I’m not sure why the cooler weather scared away others; I’d take having to wear two jackets any day over wanting to peel back a layer of my skin to cool down.
The trail to the Heber Valley Overlook is usually quite congested. That was not so during our visit.
That is the complete story of our card playing, tree dragging, peak parking, trail riding, wind bracing, path climbing, dog days freezing, no-camping camping trip.
Jason and I were supposed to take a trip to the Caribbean with his parents in June. That didn’t happen… you may have heard of this COVID thing? Since our sanity was borderline after months of homebodyness, we opted to at least take a little break in Zion National Park and its surrounds. COVID had created a little chaos down there but had also disrupted Zion’s regular crowds. That worked for us. Frankly, we probably would have been happy going to the world’s most exotic toenail collection- heck, maybe even its least exotic one- as long as it got us out of the house for a few days.
I had to do that to take this. Was it worth it? Maybe we should ask Jason’s shoulders.
In keeping with the contemporary confusion, even prepping for this trip was slightly chaotic. After months of journeying nowhere, an abnormality for us, I kind of forgot what I usually pack and my packing process. It’s funny how quickly routines get erased. Good thing I have a packing list, or who knows what I would have missed- underwear, toothbrush, camera, deodorant… husband.
The path to Angels Landing has an elevation change of 1,500 feet. Yes, it’s noticeable.
Springdale, the gateway to Zion, is usually overrun with tourists in the summer. It only had a fraction of its normal throngs during our stay. It seemed a little uncanny to have the sun blasting there without the people blasting; the town felt half-awake. Don’t mistake my puzzlement for a complaint. You will get no grumbles from me on this.
You must traverse 21 abrupt switchbacks known as Walter’s Wiggles on the trek to Angels Landing.
Zion Canyon, where the majority of Zion’s attractions are located, has been closed to private vehicles for years due to congestion. Shuttles are typically the only way to access it during all but the winter months. However, the shuttles were not operating when we visited because of COVID. What did this mean? Vehicles were only allowed to enter the canyon until available parking filled up. Parking opened at 6:00 AM and filled up… oh, a few minutes later. Okay, maybe 43 minutes later on a lucky morning. We avoided this headache by only going into Zion Canyon later in the day. We hiked elsewhere in the park and outside the park the rest of the time and kept our heads comfortably on our pillows past 6:00 AM.
Refrigerator Canyon provides the only shade along route to Angels Landing.Although the chained part of Angels Landing was closed, Scout Lookout did not disappoint with its magnificent views of Zion Canyon’s unforgiving bluffs.
Our first evening in the area, we took the Kayenta Trail to the Upper Emerald Pool. We made it back just before it got dark and only saw a handful of people along the route. It was great to see nature instead of folks when visiting nature. We also heard nature. Canyon tree frogs serenaded us at the pool. They sound like goats, so that’s what we thought we were listening to. Also, the idea of the noises originating from a mountain lion was tossed around. Grrrr!
At Scout Lookout, cliffs abound.
The next morning, after enjoying an outdoor breakfast, we headed up the Watchman Trail, which leads to views of a stone pinnacle looming more than 2,000 feet above Springdale. This trail was hot, especially on our windless ascent. I asked myself many times, How did I get so much sweat there? Alas, the universe had no answers for me, but the vistas were fantastic.
Red Hollow was easy to navigate but still provided a touch of adventure with its narrow cavities and rippled rock.
Angels Landing is a Zion classic Jason and I hadn’t done in nearly 20 years. Another 20 would have been an inexcusable shame, so we opted to make that trail the focus of our evening. While the final chain section past Scout Lookout was closed due to COVID concerns, the rest was wide open. Apparently, the crowds on this trail alone can become a safety hazard in the middle of tourist season. We encountered a few groups but had most of the path to ourselves. As we passed through Refrigerator Canyon on our hike back, we came across a fluffy Mexican spotted owl, a threatened species that has found a home in Zion, making a contact call to its mama. Even in the near dark, that owlet was so cute this sentence needs a few exclamation marks!!!
This dubious rope kept most of us from reaching Red Hollow’s genesis, but it didn’t stop Jason.
Our last day in the area, we explored some lesser-known trails and interest points between Zion and Kanab. Red Hollow, a small slot canyon near Orderville, was our first stop. This hike is short and clambers through a portion of the canyon that is usually dry. While definitely a slot for beginners, the scrambling was still fun. Somewhere in the middle of the canyon, a dry fall with a flimsy rope halted the upward progress of everyone but Jason. As he is part monkey, he made it all the way to the end.
Red Hollow Canyon cuts beneath the colorful Elkhart Cliffs.
After getting some grub in Kanab, we headed to the Sand Caves. The Sand Caves, really one cave with multiple openings, are the remnants of a sand mining operation that briefly took place back in the 70s. This cavern is up on a cliffside but can be reached with some quick scaling. While the cave’s soft stone has unfortunately made it an easy target for graffiti, its swirling deposits are still enthralling.
The Sand Caves near Kanab weren’t made by nature but are picturesque and interesting nonetheless.
Our last stop of the day was Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park. This park encompasses nearly 4,000 acres of sand hued by Navajo sandstone. While the ATVs on the dunes were a bit distracting at times, the terrain was beautiful. It looked like a giant flag of tangerine silk billowing in an undetectable breeze.
I’m not a fan of graffiti, but this grabbed my attention.
We left Springdale on a Friday morning just as the area was ramping up for the weekend. Since our visit, Zion National Park has resumed its shuttle services. I’m guessing that means Springdale and Zion are now humming along in a much more normal fashion, though some swarm reduction can probably still be achieved during the week. I’m glad we were able to visit this region in its more disorganized but less crammed state. What a lift this break was to our shut-in spirits!
The sand at Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park is striking and soft.
On a side note, southern Utah is hot. Although it was only early June, Zion was already cooking. The first day of our trip had a pleasant high in the low 80s, but for the duration of our visit, 90 and up was the forecasters’ accurate prophecy. If you go to Zion anytime during the summer, expect to scorch. And on a final note, I want to extend a big thank you to the rangers who were directing confused sightseers all while wearing masks in the swelter. Under the circumstance, these stewards did a remarkable job.
Being a social outcast has never been so cool… and isn’t likely to ever be again.
This spring, life quickly turned topsy-turvy in a way most of us didn’t realize was possible. Reflecting now on the last few months seems somewhat premature since the COVID situation is still in flux and the outcome is yet unknown. However, just going over the range of what has happened so far feels like a monumental task. Hence, I wanted to tackle this topic before a 25-page essay becomes necessary.
I’m still digesting this affair with the rest of the world. In another year, decade, or century perhaps we will fully understand the lasting legacy of this pandemic and what we should have done differently. Until then, here’s a bit of my limited perspective.
March
March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb. Instead, it felt like one of those rollercoasters that starts out slow and then, next thing you know, the ground just ceases to be under you. It was a month of disruption and isolation where plans vaporized as if hit by a phaser on maximum. The roads and parks became silent and eerie while panic gripped communities. As the death count in the US rocketed and businesses suffered, many Americans fought over toilet paper and placing blame instead of coming together to hinder this microscopic foe.
Like most of you, Jason and I became lost in the pace of change. The month preceding the onset of social distancing was particularly busy for us, so much so that Jason determined we needed to cut out some of our routine activities. Be careful what you wish for my boy! From that eventfulness, we dropped off the quarantine cliff, and suddenly nothing was going on. At first, every day seemed exactly the same as we struggled to adjust.
After the initial shock of speedy isolation wore off, Jason and I started figuring out ways to make isolation less isolating. Within the first month of seclusion, we had 11 virtual board game nights with different sets of friends over Google Hangouts. In our peak week, we had four virtual game nights on consecutive evenings. That proved too much for my eyes. These games were made possible by the resourcefulness of Jason. He rigged some of my photography equipment to hold a cell phone over the game board for a board view. To date, we’ve successfully played Pandemic, King of Tokyo, Splendor, Pandemic Legacy, and Wits & Wagers this way.
I organized two virtual game tournaments for my family.
I initiated virtual King of Tokyo and Splendor tournaments with my family using the above-mentioned method. I was pronounced King of Tokyo, while my brother was declared the winner of Isolated Splendor. Later, an online Dominion tournament ensued, which was won by a nephew. The matches were more intense than expected, especially Splendor. Missing the competitive exhilaration provided by sporting events? Set up virtual game nights for all your cutthroat needs!
You can’t be a legitimate champion without a trophy.
Jason and I also introduced virtual movie nights to my family. We’d all watch a prearranged film at a specific time in our respective locations and get online to discuss the flick afterward. This was a weekly tradition for a couple months.
Beyond getting some screen time with real people to reassure us we weren’t the only ones left on the planet, Jason and I kept sane by taking walks almost every evening, often as soon as the workday was over. Sanity was also gained by nearly daily workouts. I’ve got strapping arm muscles (relatively speaking) thanks to my regular stints on the arm bike; I call these my COVID arms. It was easy to make time for exercise in the absence of everything else.
Having interesting projects helped break up the monotony too. Since I wasn’t taking new pictures, I was able to catch up on editing photos from a few years ago. I commenced some sewing projects for Regency accessories. Additionally, I started planting a forest of succulents, an undertaking I anticipated and bought supplies for before the shutdown. I also took advantage of internet learning opportunities. Online ukulele lessons, photography classes, and cosmetic chemistry courses all kept my brain engaged. Thank goodness for technology!
This was my first batch of succulents. I gave them all away.This was round two of my succulent mania/therapy. I’m about to plant round three.
Any day that was warm enough, I spent on my laptop in the backyard. This change of setting from the study to the patio mollified my mind considerably. On a few Saturdays, Jason and I legitimately got outdoors by snowshoeing up the slopes of Alta Ski Resort and then snowboarding down them.
Jason and I were disappointed the end of the boarding season dissolved due to COVID, but we made this happen.By the last time we went to Alta in mid-May, the snow had melted into countless crevasses.
And how was and is working from home working? Jason and I get along exceptionally well. Even after being compacted together 24-7 for months, we still adore each other. Transitioning to working from home was pretty easy for us. The hardest thing was Jason’s loud phone conversations and video chats. I’m pretty sure talking to people in meetings and out of meetings is 99% of what he does. I just escape to another floor, or better yet the backyard, when he’s being a chatty Cathy, and all remains good.
May
After two months of social distance, new routines seemed more normal. By the end of April, I had fallen into a productive pattern split between working inside in the morning and outside in the afternoon. The evenings mostly involved walks, cleaning, and exercise. A clear distinction emerged between weekdays and weekends as we grew more accustomed to our altered habits.
We also found a way to get “out” thanks to a local theater creatively transforming their parking lot into a drive-in, which started screening classics like The Goonies, The Bourne Identity, and Back to the Future Part II.
Jason and I launched “distant” lunches to allow for in-person contact. Basically, we realized we could meet up with friends at a park and easily maintain social distance. These lunches continue to be a source of unattached interaction for us. Everyone brings a chair and a meal, and we see each other with our eyeballs. We even did a distant picnic for a family Mother’s Day gathering.
As social obligations began to creep in again, in a limited fashion of course, I noticed they were a bit distracting. While I was ecstatic about seeing people on more than one occasion, the checkoffs on my to-do list declined as did my focus, which made me feel a little overwhelmed. After weeks with almost none of life’s normal interferences, it seemed unnatural to have them return. I missed feeling like there was plenty of time and reason to take long walks with Jason on nearly a daily basis.
Hiking has been another sanity booster for us. Horsetail Falls was one such trek.
June
I think I have acclimated to the new, new normal for now, which is a mix of nothing and something. The staggering lack of focus I felt a month ago has dissipated. I’m not sure where next month and the months after will take me and us as a country, but I hope we will navigate through them wisely.
With about 120,000 deaths in the United States from COVID-19 to date and a surge imminent in Utah, this virus continues to change and shape our attention and daily routines. Amidst the anxiety and turmoil, may we be safe. May we be sane. May we be considerate. May we be rational. May we be responsible. May we be compassionate. We are all in this together from the elderly lady living next door to the small business owner down the street, so let’s help each other and go easy on the judgement. That is my wish for all of you and for myself.
I can’t help but wonder if after all this is over, we as a nation and as a world will be a little depressed instead of elated. That may sound like nonsense. The thing is, when normalcy returns, we may remember that normal wasn’t perfect. The same problems we had before all of this will still be there. Needing to just get through the next few months is less intimidating than needing to get through the next 30 to 50 years. Plus, as engulfing as COVID feels at the moment, there will be other urgent crises. May our perseverance outlast this virus and make us more resilient to all that lies ahead. That is my final wish for this post and all those that read it.
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