Sunday. The day of rest. Sounds good to me. After yesterday's long drive I think a day of kicking back, in front of the fire, sounds pretty good! Mark left last night and Paul is leaving this morning so soon I'll be all a lonesome. Alone again. (Naturally?) I'll miss the boys of course, it's been fun the last couple of days, but now I'll be running on my schedule which is just playing it by ear so to speak. So I think for today I'll relax and hang out, catch up on my reading and writing. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Aahhhh! 

Ok, I'm bored. It's only 1:00? Well, maybe I need a break from relaxing. All right. Time to go exploring a little I guess. So I gather my stuff and head out, back towards Rt. 89. There's a dirt road turnoff on the other side of Red Canyon State Park, just before you hit 89. Let's see what's back there.

Approaching Red Canyon, the road curves and dips to wind its short passage through the park. Red Canyon is small, and while certainly not a miniature representation of Bryce Canyon, its formations are similar in many ways. Driving to Bryce Canyon, the typical route takes you through this little gem, which acts as a herald to the sights one can expect there. The towers and hoodoos of Red Canyon, which rear up right alongside the road, are so close that two arches have been cut through the rock for the road's passage. Driving through from the other direction I take in the pretty sights as I head for the turnoff.

I turn off the main road, onto dirt, and head for Casto Canyon, 3 miles away. I don't know what's down here as I left my maps back at the motel (oops!), but, hey, I'm an adventurous kind of guy. I take the first turn and off to my left is a large  wall of charcoal gray boulders, speckled with bright green lichens. Obviously natural in origin, and probably 50 feet tall, nevertheless it looks to me like a New England farmers boundary fence. I of course snap a picture. Continuing on I see that I am running alongside the western edge of Red Canyon. Numerous washes are emanating from its interior, which due to the dry conditions offer no impediment to my passage. I soon come to Casto Canyon which I now see is a trailhead for trips into the interior of Red Canyon. I figure I might as well go and take a look see.

I start up the trail and it soon runs out and merges with the large wash here - no fun when the water is flowing I should think. Pebbles, cobbles, rocks, boulders. All battered smooth and round by their tumbled journey down from somewhere above. The formations around me are different shades of orange, pink, yellow and white, a little bit of gray, and shades of those all mixed together - predominately a pinkish orange though. I notice that the debris in the wash is mostly different types of gray. Interesting. Walking along I am awash in the reflected glow from the formations here. The colors are so bright! It makes the sky above almost sapphire in it's blueness. The hoodoos (Isn't that a cool word?) look as if some giant child dripped huge, brightly-colored globs of wet sand onto the rocks. One glob on top of another, on top of another, on top of another... Looking about carefully you can often see faces and figures in the formations - here is a dog-faced boy, there a group of women at an old-time ballroom dance, over there a....

I soon tire of walking up the wash and decide to head up one of the many canyons descending from the sides. It's an easy walk as the slope is slight and increases only gradually. Soon I am among huge, orange boulders which have tumbled from the heights above. I hope nothing decides to cut loose now! The slope is starting to increase, the canyon starting to narrow. Soon I'm forced to step carefully around/over/under the rocks, boulders and tree trunks littering the slope. I'm picking my way carefully now because I don't want to turn an ankle (or worse). Looking back I see that I'm getting some good height now - I'm above some of the stuff that seemed to tower above me from below. Climbing upward I finally reach the head of the canyon. The top is about 20 feet above, but vertically so. I'm done. Looking around I inhale the view down and out from me. So refreshing!

It's a warm day, both from the sunshine streaming through the thin veil of clouds in the sky and the exertion of reaching the top. Time to relax, to recharge. I shed my layers and recline in a natural depression in the rocks, letting the balmy rays of the sun embrace me. I close my eyes and relax in my aerie, casting my cares aside to the depths below. I am soon lost in my thoughts, my memories, my dreams. All about me is silence, save for the whisperings of the wind, the occasional keen of a soaring hawk, the hyperactive chittering of a chipmunk, the soothing warble of a songbird. Periodically, wafts of wind would eddy over my recumbent figure, a cooling counterpoint to the rejuvenating rays from above. I am surrounded by nothing. I am surrounded by nature. This is why I climbed here. This is why I explore. To escape. To absorb. To be absorbed. Nature and its soothing embrace.

Soon, too soon, it's time to go. The sun will shortly be dipping below the faces and figures sharing my reverie, and I still have that just kicking it to finish. I scramble up a short slope of scree to my left and descend via the adjoining canyon. Heading back out to the main drag I crank up some EMF on the CD player. My batteries are revived, full power, and I need to let go of some excess charge. Unbelievable!

Wow! Look out the window! The sky is afire! The clouds are long wisps of luminous pink fading to subtle shades of violet at the tips. The trees on the ridge are silhouettes in front of a fairly glowing wall of pink and magenta. Beautiful! I am sitting here composing this latest journal entry and am being treated to an awesome display in the firmament above - the setting sun has deigned to depart in grand style tonight. To my right the hearth glows with the warm, yellow flames of the burning logs. Out the window, a cool tapestry of pinks and purples "lights up" my eyes. I am surrounded by fire and it feels wonderful!

Take care all,
Chris