So here I am rocketing through a wind and water-sculpted, multi-hued landscape (Mark’s a fast driver), on my way to Hell’s Backbone. The sun is nearing its peak on this balmy (for Bryce) Thanksgiving Day (low 40’s), which at this time of year is not high at all. The deep blueness above is slowly softening to a grayish white as large masses of flat clouds fill up the sky. Could there be a storm approaching? The road we’re on, Scenic Byway Rt. 12 is winding its way to Escalante, a nearby Mormon pioneer town that has lent its name to the area surrounding it (Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Escalante River, Escalante Canyon). The rocks around us are various shades of yellow and white. Today, Thanksgiving Day, Mark and I are going to take a big loop tour of some of the special scenery available here, starting and ending in Escalante. From Escalante we’ll be heading out along the Hogsback, past Calf Creek Falls to the turnoff to Hell’s Backbone. Hell's Backbone travels along a ridge with dramatic and precipitous drop-offs on either side. At the Hell's Backbone Bridge the ridge narrows to the bridge's width and the sense of vertigo can be overwhelming. It then winds it’s way up into the Dixie Forest skirting the Box Hollow Death Wilderness before dropping quickly back to Escalante. The last (and only time) I was on this road a storm front was just passing through so I encountered dense fog at the “crucial” juncture, which turned into a veil of snow as I went higher. Let’s hope I have better luck this time.

We gas up in Escalante (Hot tip - even if a station is closed you might still be able to get gas if it has a pay-by-card thingy. Lucky for us!). We head out of town, past the turnoff to Hole-In-the-Rock and head north. After a few miles and rounding a very sharp curve ("Whoa there Markie!") we come upon the Hogsback stretching away from us to the north.  The Hogsback is a section of Rt. 12 that dips and dives, swoops and swirls, curves and curls among the grayish-white local formations that are mostly rounded globs of rock, as if from an ancient sand dune field. We drop down quickly (12% grade) and proceed to find ourselves amongst them. After a few miles we round another sharp curve and are presented with a view of the brick red rocks of the canyon cut by the Escalante River. Another quick descent brings us down to the river’s level, which is demarcated by the towering, now leafless, cottonwoods along its banks. Another quick curve and we’re surrounded by the red rocks as we start winding our way up again, across Calf Creek and past the trail to Calf Creek Falls. We quickly regain our lost elevation and the original colors at the start.  Off to the west (left) we can look down into the canyon cut by Calf Creek, spying the trail to the falls at various times as we twist and turn ever upward. To the east stretch rows of canyons waiting to be explored. Soon we top out and the road gets even more interesting as on either side it quickly drops off to the bottoms below; we are riding along the top of a narrow ridge. It was this part that especially imprinted itself when my brother Carl and I first traveled through this area 18 years ago. Mark is impressed as it is his first time here. As for myself, even after all the times I’ve been along this section of road, I am still impressed and am enjoying the ride and scenery immensely.

Just before it’s time to drop down into the town of Boulder we see the turn off for Hell’s Backbone so off we go. Now we’re on gravel, which of course is no problem except for the washboard portions, of which  there are plenty, that are also on curves. No traction baby! E-ticket! The road curves its way down a bit and we glide (slide?) past a few small ranches whose notable feature is the various types of fences marking their boundaries built from local, rough-hewn trees. Like in the “old” days I suppose. As we get a little farther in, the road smoothes out a bit and even straightens a touch – for a while anyway – and we soon spy a small grove of aspens, alone among the pines and firs surrounding them. Behind them, in the direction we are heading, we can see the rose-splattered, tawny yellow rocks near the bridge. Picture time!

On our way once more we start gaining elevation again and soon come upon a very narrow, wooden bridge spanning the short gap in front of us – the Hell’s Backbone Bridge. “You mean we’re gonna drive over that little, insubstantial thing?” While right below the drop isn’t so much, just beyond the rocks quickly fall away to prodigious depths. Don’t take any running leaps - as Mark said, you might starve to death before you hit bottom. The rocks here are yellows and tans and reds and oranges and very pretty. A short hike brings me to an abrupt cliff where I note patches of green interspersed among the predominately tawny yellows. Cool! Mark strolls up and lets me know that I can take pictures for both of us (heights aren’t his favorite thing). Being the agreeable sort that I am I proceed to do so, including snapping one of him standing as close to and looking over the edge as he dares. Priceless.

Continuing, we go up above the bridge and are now into the forest. Soon we come upon a massive stand of aspen, their stark, white, now leafless trunks stretching forlornly up to the blue sky above, contrasting dramatically with the greens and browns of the encircling conifers. How beautiful it must be here during the autumnal change with the multitude of golden charms all “quaking” in time to the breezes wafting up and down the mountainside. I wish I could return during that period – whenever it might be. Perhaps next year? Driving on, we cross a small creek and note a series of mini-falls and patches of ice-encrusted surface. We stop to take some pictures where I note little icicles underneath a log, which has fallen across the creek. Underneath some sections of ice we can see the water coursing underneath and bubbles of air entrapped – maybe until spring? Picture time again of course.

Now we’re heading down the mountain and soon come back into the town of Escalante – time to head “home”. The sky above has cleared quite a bit and the sun beats down warmly making me sleepy. Off to  the right the promontory known as Powell Point juts out proudly and is “shining” brilliantly, its predominately rose-colored cliffs resplendent in the bright afternoon sunlight, contrasting pointedly with the dark, volcanic-looking rocks below whose gullies are visible only as dark shadow pools due to the sun's lowering angle. A beautiful day. A good day’s drive. Nap time!

Chris