So there we were, me and Bear, trying to stay on our feet. The current had caught him as the river got a few inches deeper near the far side and swung him behind me. I lunged for the bank to deposit Bear and myself on dry ground, with no interest in getting wet. (Bank, depost, interest? Oh Jeez Whazoo, pleeease stop!)  Of course you knew we'd make it, but I didn't. And you know how dogs like to shake immediately, throwing cold water on unsuspecting people. Not this Whazoo, "Bear! Go over there to shake!" I've had dogs too long to not be aware of their habits.  On the east side now and looking north, you can see how brushy it was with neither bank lending easy access. This was the mighty Escalante River.  And poor Mrs. Whazoo, the consummate trail companion. I don't know how many wives would go through what I put her through all these years. I asked if she wanted to stay on the other side and wait. "No Whazoo, I want to come with you."  Little did we know that we would get cliffed out and have to walk back into that freezing water on a yet longer walk upstream. Too cold to cuss, we just groaned. We finally made it to the entrance of Neon Canyon, and stood in the sun for a moment.  The hike up-canyon was in shade, all 45º of it. We walked as fast as possible to generate some heat. Plus we didn't have much time, not wanting to hike out in the dark. It was a kick in the pants, or where those just my shoes?   There's a man's face, sliced, on the left wall.  A little reflective photography happened on the way to the Cathedral. With red canyon walls and winterized cottonwood saplings in the reflection.  It was cold yet exhilarating in the gorgeous canyon. We were freezing as I tried to take hurried pictures of the desert varnished walls.    Is a point of reference always necessary?   Mrs. Whazoo shows off the new look in outdoor footwear, crusty.  Our first peek-a-boo view of the Golden Cathedral as we came to the gates.  The Golden Cathedral was just what I'd prayed for.  The canyon stops for us here. Others come in from the upper canyon to rappel down through the hole farthest back, landing in the water. The canyon used to pour off above us but the action of water drove the bottom out of the upper canyon floor creating those two giant holes in the roof. What a sight it would be to see water pouring through those holes during a storm.  This vertical shot shows the original pour-off and the "new" holes behind it.   Looking into the ruddy water it gave an interesting reflection. Though I did not see any faces there.   Dead Dog Photography. I could tell Bear was dog tired.    It was time to head for the barn what with the shortness of days and about a 5 mile walk back.    Of course once you get somewhere you discover there was a much easier way to get there in the first place. Again, I wouldn't change a thing. But crossing the Escalante River here was not as deep and the bank on both sides had easier ingress and egress. Now I don't know what egress means but I saw a big white bird one time and thought it was an egress. I had Bear by the collar just in case the current took him again.  Trying to hike straight up in deep sand was no fun. One step forward and a half slide back. It was a quad burning climb and I double-dog dared Bear to keep up. As tired as he was he still had to wait for me.  The shadows were getting long but the cool temps were welcome while slogging the way back, our feet as heavy as lead zeppelins.  More donkey balls. Very large from the Donkey Grande species.  I mean honestly, they're called Moqui Marbles? Why that's just nuts, and the proof was at hand.  Then we found this area. I wondered if it was the Ballroom or the local pro shop? Yes I can see it now. An ancient Anasazi walking by with hiking staff in hand. Swinging at a lone donkey ball and watching it roll across the ground to disappear as it dropped into a gopher hole. And a new sport was introduced to the world, golf. Now golf backwards spells "flog", and that's what I would do if I were to ever take up the sport. Flog myself in frustration with a club. I would call it Flog-n-Golf.  The climb to the top was on rock, thankfully, yet very steep and hard after a long day. I took this picture to show where a pack train of donkeys is brought down on occasion, scarring the rock with white scratch marks. Of course this backs up my theory of...Donkey Balls. There it is.  That night we went back to our canyon overlook and stayed up late. Grilling under the moon and reliving the days hike to the Golden Staircase. Bear slept. Come morning I checked the GPS to see the specifics of the hike. I was surprised. Poor girls, they can't lose weight at this age. I mean at her tender young age. I mean..oh crap, I messed in my lunch bag, again.  A beautiful morning it was.  We congratulated ourselves with a cup of java and enjoyed the view. Mind you, it wasn't Elephant Dung Java but I imagine it was just as smooth. (Yes, there is such a thing and no, I haven't had any).  Our last day would be a full one as well. We were going to some very tight slot canyons. Good thing I had worked off those Zingers and donuts. Well, maybe just a little. "The slots are over there"...he said pointedly.  It's a fun walk across rock ledges to get there.  Coming down the trail I had to face this huge wall of lichen, looking like a cosmic abstract painting. In that wall I thought I could see my licheness.  The beginning of one slot narrowed quickly leaving no doubt what was in store, or in canyon.  Without a doubt, I'm getting too old to be kneeling and crawling under rocks.  A piece of advice for all. Be sure to clear the bladder and take Gas X before going through Slim Fast Pass, and pray you don't get stuck.  It was in this exact canyon years ago that we as a family developed our new plan on slot canyon exploration. The kids and wife had gone ahead while I took pictures and followed. Having to take off my jacket to get through this canyon I was a bit heavier and almost got stuck. Feeling like a cork in a bottle I would have trapped the whole famn damily in the canyon. Ergo, I was now the first one in, in case they needed to go for the jaws of life to get me out. In this picture my head was touching both sides of the canyon, making me feel soft in the head.  While not a good place to take a picture, it was a good place for a nap. Do you like my rock-ing chair?     Hiking back up-canyon we came to another favorite slot. This one takes more effort to get into.  I was feeling melancholy that day. We've been here for two other Thanksgivings over the last twenty years with the girls, and I missed them now. Don't we all have a picture like this somewhere? As I tried to dash before the picture was taken. Oops...  These pictures are from Thanksgiving 2002. Has it been a decade? Genetically engineered turkey still tastes the same.  Bear was two years old.  This same sandstone labyrinth has seen my girls twice now. Funny how it was on this trip, I could still hear them laughing.   These next are from 1997 and pre-digital camera. You remember those days of course. Getting home you'd run to COSTCO, not knowing how your pictures came out, and order double prints. Amassing enough pictures over time to fill a walk-in closet, with everyone crowding around to see them in the photo album. It doesn't feel the same to view them on a computer screen now does it?. This is called Peekaboo Canyon. Can you see why?    I was and am thankful for the time we spent outdoors with our children. Thank God for Mr. Kodak too. I took a parting shot as I left the kids echoes and my memories behind. And maybe a small tear for the "good ol days" of being a parent to young kids that thought you knew everything in the world there was to know.  Lucky for us we still have a bit-o-kid in our selves, and have fun all on our own. Another shot of that fun later. Can you wait?  Our last stop on this trip was to find dino tracks. This small sign gave a brief history of the tracks and surrounding area, telling us that hundreds of tracks were there to be found. We were excited to go find them.  Except that we couldn't find them on the pock marked rock.  As the sun was going down the wind was coming up. We were cold and frustrated, going stone blind from looking for 155 million year old Easter Eggs in the form of dino tracks.  Right before the sun went away we finally discovered we had been walking on them. Looking like impact rings in what must have been ancient mud it was like taking the Rorschach inkblot test at the therapist's office. Except that I don't have a therapist. "Yes you do.", "No I don't." "Stop you two, we don't have a therapist...we have three." Seriously, I looked at the moon and with vivid imagination could see the huge beasts as they too looked up at the same moon one hundred fifty-five million years ago. What a feeling it was being there on that Jurassic mud, now twenty-first century rock. And me, a twenty-first century schizoid man.  The sun had set and the rock lost it's golden hue, making it easier to spot the tracks. Once we figured out what to look for it was a lot like finding Easter Eggs as we ran around the rock ledge like kids. "Look over here at these." "Here's a bunch." "Dinomite!"  Then we found what must have been core rock samples taken from a footprint to determine the age of the rock, and so the age of the tracks.  Shortly after we found the golden Easter Egg of dino tracks, actual footprints instead of impact prints.  Now I know nothing about dino tracks and couldn't tell if this one was coming or going. In fact the dinosaur itself may not have known, which means it was a Whazoosauras.   The sun was gone but the colors of the area stayed a while longer.  It was time to leave this excellent place and it was one more stop in what we'll remember as a most cosmic adventure trip.   Driving towards our last camp spot I had to stop and take this picture, it's one you don't see every day. My thought was the pilot forgot his donuts and had to go back.  That last night was a good one for us. It had been a great trip and I'd told Mrs. Whazoo it was my last for trip reports. She disagrees and has a bet "ah'll be bach." I say not. The next morning we woke to a red dawn.  What? Really? None of you guys have long johns? You don't know what you're itching, I mean missing. Yes, I love my long johns, they go well with my Santa hat at Christmas.  While I waited for Mrs. Whazoo to finish up inside I had coffee and read a magazine. Sent from a good friend in Scotland, Allan has a very nice Ford and Arctic Fox and his beautiful family camps while Allan flies his micro-lite 3wheel trikes. What an awesome way and place to camp, I never knew Scotland was so nice. We have become friends through trip reports as with so many of you, and Mrs. Whazoo and I have strong feelings for everyone we've met. Either in person or on-line. Who knows, if I ever make it over the "pond" to visit friends in other countries I'll have to come back with a trip report from the skies over Scotland. And a road trip through France, and Germany and Sweden. I'll call it the www.trip report.net...world wide whazoo.trip report.net!  Driving back through Escalante Utah we stopped at the very nice BLM headquarters and bought a book about Everett Ruess, the 20 year old young man who went missing in 1933 last seen at Davis Gulch, a canyon in this general vicinity. It is an incredible story I can suggest reading and Everett has reached cult status these many years later. As we drove the highway between Escalante and Cannonville a Condor took flight from just off the road, surrounded by the much smaller "nuisance" birds. It was an incredible sight to see and added to the otherworldly feeling of this trip. We don't have to call it cosmic but I can't think of a better description. Then Mrs. Whazoo started reading to me of the history and letters written by Everett Ruess. She read for eight hours until we got back to Phoenix. Stopping between chapters we talked about the fantastic facts of the story and to look at the pictures of Everett and the block printing he was so good at by sixteen and seventeen years old. Now I won't say this was one of the best Whazoo trip reports, not the best pictures, but it was the best all-round trip we've ever had. So there you have it. I appreciate ALL the outstanding responses over the last five years. I won't add my own replies this time, giving everyone a break and speeding this trip report to the back pages. Mrs. Whazoo says goodbye. Bear says "Chow." Bear always says chow and I don't have the heart to spell it differently him. WHAZN8R says "Hasta la vista...Baby." And I was having a thought that we could all meet up somewhere for a grand adventure and the best campfire in the history of the world. Would that work out ok? Great! "Did you here that Mrs. Whazoo? All our friends are going to meet us at the Cosmic Ashtray, or those ruins in Beef Basin, no wait, the Top of the World, or maybe............... Thanks for reading, Dave Rogers "I went into the wilderness to get lost, so I could find myself again."  |
Originally posted on rv.net 12/27/12 It was supposed to be the last trip report, obviously I missed doing them, so started up again after a sabbatical.
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