I wake to the sounds of snow being shoveled off of the porch. Yawning and stretching to shake of the night's weariness I "bound" to the window to take a look. I gasp upon opening the blinds for everywhere and as far as I can see the landscape is draped in a brilliant white  mantle of snow! Gorgeous! Wonderful! Peering skyward I see that the blueness is unencumbered by nary a cloud. Fantastic! I'm excited as I clean up and pack for the return trip today. I know I'm going to get some good pictures. It must have snowed a good portion of the night - I had no idea. What a grand way to end a wonderful trip.

Taking my time - I'm still on vacation - I go about packing up all the crap I brought which, as those who know me know, is indeed a lot of crap! Finally though, the truck is all packed, the cooler filled and within easy reach, laptop and GPS secured and "navigating", truck warmed and ready to go. It's a gloriously bright late morning as I pull away from the cottage, what with the open, blue sky, and sunlight reflecting brilliantly off the snow. It almost hurts my eyes, so in order to stave off a case of "snow blindness", I don my very cool Ray-Bans. Before I head out onto the road to home though, I stop and take a picture of the comfy little cottage that has been home for a full week now.

It's still chilly as I motor west on Rt. 12 towards 89 - in the low thirties - but in the warm interior of the Explorer I'm as toasty as can be. There's hardly a soul on the road, which is just as well as I'm quite distracted by the beautiful views everywhere I look, and I'm surely not keeping the straightest track. Very soon the road starts to curve and descend into Red Rock State Park,  a miniature, redder version of Bryce Canyon right off the side of the road! Before I come to the "main attraction", bright reddish-orange hoodoos stacked up against the roadside and 2 mini tunnels cut through the same formation, I see a newly tracked road heading off into the hills at an angle on my right. There's a sign there, "Cabin Hollow". As if the Explorer has a mind of its own, for with seemingly no conscience effort or thought, I find myself turned off the pavement and onto the deep, fresh, dual tracks in the snow leading to... Well. I suppose, Cabin Wash! I start in.

The way initially is fairly flat and I have no problem with traction or clearance, the fresh, unsullied snow crunching underneath as I drive along. To make it easier for the next person to come along I "wiggle" as I drive along in order to widen the tracks, make the way less "rutted". I stop every few hundred yards to take pictures. The scenery, once removed from sight of Rt. 12, is breathtakingly beautiful. Rolling hillsides dotted with towering  pines, boughs practically smothered in snow, leading up to the orange and pink formations of the park. Because it's so bright and clear, the sky is the typical "Bryce Blue", a deep, rich, bold, cross between royal and cobalt blue.

After maybe half a mile or so I start thinking, "Hmmm. I'd better start thinking about turning around." The "road" is starting to curve and become more uphill. I pray that I don't meet up with whoever has gone in before me because there's not a whole lot of places where I'd feel comfortable turning around. I make note of the few flat, open spots where I might be able to do so.  I feel that I really should turn around before... But I'm having so much fun "exploring", and it's so nice and pretty and quiet and calm out here that I am quite reluctant to cease my advance. The snow is now definitely deeper, yet I'm still not having any problems proceeding. Good old 4WD! Good old Explorer!

Finally though, the road curves up a hill through a snow-burdened copse of trees. Keeping my momentum going I continue on, but after only a short way up I see that the road just keeps going - Where's the end? - and prudence drapes over me like the snow upon the branches practically brushing up against my windows on the right side, and I come to a halt. Though I've had absolutely no problems getting this far, my heart is racing and the adrenalin pumping. I notice that I've been clenching the steering wheel; my knuckles are almost as white as the ground outside! I have just passed one of the very few relatively flat and open spaces along the way where I should be able to turn around safely. I now decide that this is what I should do. I have no idea where this road goes, nor how deep the snow will end up getting. I'm all alone, and do NOT want to get stuck out here (though I suppose I there are a lot worse places to do so given the proximity to a "major" road). I start backing down. Very carefully!

I back down around the initial curve and then, turning the wheels the other way, I power it to get up the slight uphill of the "turn around" area. I keep going until I hear the brush scraping underneath. I stop and survey the scene. I'm facing a slight incline down in front of me. The way out to the right is on this same incline so I'm going to have to already be turned into the tracks when I hit there or else I'm sure to slide and get stuck. There's not enough clear width where I am so I'm going to have to get the truck turned more to the right before I head down and into the tracks. I'll have to move straight down some and then power back up, turning to the left, and I'll need to do this a few times to get situated properly. I'll have to be careful not to go too far forward because the slope steepens on the other side of the tracks in front of me. I shift into low-low and put it into gear.

I go down so that my front wheels are beyond the tracks, into virgin snow, before I quickly put it into reverse and carefully hit the gas. Up, no problem. I go down again, now angled, and repeat. No problem. Again. This time I start slipping so I quickly straighten the wheels to get more traction and hit the gas. Slipping and sliding, turning, then straightening the wheel, I muck my way back up and out of "stuckage", crashing into the brush to get a good grip underneath. My heart is pounding. "Don't get stuck!" I need one more maneuver so I go for it. This time I'm almost parallel to the slope and as I make the final angle to get out I start slipping towards the far track and beyond into... "No!" I hit the gas and play with the wheel to find the beast available traction and finally, with a burst power and spraying snow I whip it into the tracks out and... "Whew! Made it!"

After a few moments to calm myself and start breathing again I proceed slowly on my way. I roll down the windows to breathe in the clean, fresh air, and to get a better view of the scenery. I'm thinking how quiet and peaceful it is outside. It's a shame there's a jet going by overhead to mar the serenity. I look up to see if I can see it. I can't. I stop for a moment to enjoy. "Hey! Where's that jet?" Then I realize. The "jet" was actually the humming crunching of the snow under my tires. What a goober! Oh well. Mystery solved I continue out, stopping occasionally to take pictures or to just enjoy the view. In no time at all I'm back on Rt. 12, and just down the road a bit I pull over to the side to shoot the beautiful formations of Red Rock, now sheathed in shimmering clumps of freshly-fallen snow. Wonderful stuff! A few more miles down and out to 89 S and I'm on my way to home.

In less than half an hour I come to the turnoff for Rt. 14. It's sunny, and bright, and the road is totally clear as I turn onto it, heading westward towards Cedar City and I-15. Immediately, there is a sign about the road going over 10,000', may be impassable during winter, snow tires or chains required, etc. I'm not worried. The road rises right away and as I go up it I look back the way I came to a nice view of some cabins in a hollow down below, all wintry-looking, with the red and white speckled mountains defining the edge of the Paunsaugunt Plateau (where Bryce Canyon is) in the background.  Very soon I'm driving by the spindly white trunks of aspens bereft of their quaking, warm-months foliage, clumped amongst their much taller green brethren, whose boughs are totally flocked with the bounty of last night's snowfall. I pass ponds frozen solid, covered with an insulating blanket of snow. The creeks I drive by, well, I can't tell if the water in them is frozen also because they too are covered with the white that blankets everything in sight. The snow on the side twinkles like a million little light brights as I drive by, reflecting the sun's almost too brilliant rays.

"WARNING. HIGH WINDS AND DRIFTING SNOW. HIGHWAY MAY BE IMPASSABLE", the hazard-yellow sign warns me. I think I must be near the summit; I've definitely come up quite a bit. Though there is faint blue sky in the distance, above me is a leaden cloud and it's snowing. This is getting good! It's now back down to 11°. I continue, though a little more carefully. But, not to worry. In less than 5 minutes I'm back into the bright blue - a very localized "storm"! Beyond it's quite open meadows on either side of the road, all totally covered with snow. There are a very few hardy souls out with some snowmobiles, but except for them and the occasional passing car, it's just me and the frosty view.

I'm now as high as this road goes, about 10,000' as I come flying up to the turnoff for Cedar Breaks NM, and... "Damn! It's open!" I yank hard on the wheel jus before I blow on by and lickety-split, I'm now heading northward towards the monument, a higher version of Bryce Canyon though with only 1 large amphitheatre. It has ALWAYS been closed this time of year before, due to snow, but I believe this latest storm is the first significant snowfall they've had so... I'm in!

The road, having recently been plowed, is initially snow free, but in no time at all I'm having some fun skidding around on top of a nice hard-pack. I pass the sign marking the entrance to the monument and, cresting a rise in the road, it's as if I was suddenly and magically transported into the storybook land of the Snow Fairies. All around deep, sparkling, virginally white snow, the trees flocked so heavily that I can barely make out their true green and brown color. Ever changing, bulbous wisps of clouds race through the crisply clear azure sky above me, while in the distance, off in the woods beyond, they pile up into a misty, ground hugging fog, enhancing the ethereal nature of the landscape. I am transfixed. I am delighted. I am out taking pictures!

I drive up just beyond the main parking lot to the amphitheatre and park by the side of the road. The last time I was here the month was July and the ground was covered with a colorful spread of wildflowers. A bit of a different look today. I haul myself up over the snow piled up at the side of the road and slog my way a short distance through the thigh deep snow to the lookout point. The Cedar Breaks amphitheatre spreads out before me, the pink and orange colors of the comprising rocks peeking out from underneath the covering of snow dumped here the last 2 days. Beautiful! I snap off a few pictures, enjoying the pretty sight and the stinging crispness of the high mountain air.

The trees. The trees here are sheathed in a dazzling, thick and icy white coating, as if they were turned upside down by some giant hand, dipped in a frosty confection, then placed back - especially decorated for the enjoyment of the rare guests this time of year. What a treat! I rarely get a chance to see wintry wonder and I take my time doing so now. But soon I'm back in the truck, turned around to head just back down the road to the somewhat plowed parking lot at the main visitors area. Now closed of course.

I pull up to the parking area and slowly start in. Immediately the wheels start to slip even though I'm in 4WD. I go just a tiny bit farther, then decide that I'd better not tempt the fates again. So I gun it back out and pull over off to the side of the road. Now, I probably could have jammed my way in there (and out) with no problem, but...

Gathering my gear and trusty fleece jacket (thanks again Sheila & Jim) I head over to the closed and silent information kiosk. The parking lot was plowed recently and has seen some traffic so making my way through it is no problem, but once I get onto where the walkway is (I presume it's under there, somewhere) the snow is untrammeled, and deep! It's crusty on top and if I tread very, very carefully I can crunch down only an inch or few. Most of the time! I keep heading towards the overlook here, sliding  on, crunching down, crashing through! I have myself a fun old time trying to see how well I can make it over there without breaking crust. Unfortunately, once I get into the shade the snow is unable to hold my vacation-fattened weight (though with the snowshoes I have for feet...) and I'm almost up to waist in snow by the time I push my way through the snow and drifts to the fence. I love all the snow here. For some reason it brings back memories of school-is-closed snow days from my childhood. Too bad there's no one around to trade snowballs with!

I snap off some pictures of the amphitheatre, then starting to feel a bit numb "down there" I slog my way back through the snow to the truck. Stomping and shaking off the snow I gladly climb back into the Explorer, and get that engine on and heat going straight away! "Brrrrrr!" That was just a bit chilly! I glance at the thermometer. 10°outside!! No wonder! Recovering quickly with the blasts of heat coming from the vents I'm very soon heading back to Rt. 14, turning westward again towards Cedar City. It's nice scenery along the way as the road gradually drops down, at the very end passing through a narrow canyon colored yellow, red and orange; somewhat reminiscent of Zion NP which is just south of here. By the time I get down to the interstate (I-15), it's 52° and warming! Wow! What a difference a "few" short miles makes! It's totally sunny now as I merge into the traffic streaming south on the 15, and the snow is almost entirely gone down here at this elevation; just a few pathetic patches scattered about. I can see why St. George, about an hour south of here is considered to have relatively mild winters. Hmmmm. Retirement? Hmmmm...

One last side trip before the long haul to California and home. The Kolob Canyons section of Zion, in the northwest corner of the park, is accessible via road only from the 15 here, and though I've been there quite a few times now, I must of course venture in again. The rocks are the brilliant orange one associates with Zion, and massively so! With the recent snow I figure that I can get once again get some nice shots of the very beautiful views along the 5 mile scenic drive into the canyon. I of course stop at the Visitor Center to show my Golden Eagle Pass and to see if there's any interesting literature that I can purchase and never read. There isn't, so after a quick bathroom break it's onward into the canyon!

The road rides up alongside the plateau, then curves around to follow Taylor Creek up and into the canyon. As soon as it does I am presented with views of the massive monoliths that are the hallmark of the canyon. The huge cliffs rise vertically and grandly from the canyon floor to heights two thousand feet and higher above my head. The oranges endemic to this area, accented by the dark hues of the desert varnish patina, seem to exude from the pores of the rocks, so saturated and bright in the full sun is it. The first prominence, Pana Point, braced against the blue of the sky, makes for a painter's dream!

The road makes one big switchback up which, being in the shade of Beatty Point, is still covered with ice and snow. People coming down are rightly being slow and careful as they head back out of the park. Beyond the switchback the view opens up to several huge, parallel canyons, canted to the road so as to show their impressive canyon wall faces to those who come to admire. The road ends after another mile or so up at the viewpoint and affords one an impressive view of the Kolob Canyons to the east and an open, sweeping panoramic view to the southwest towards the back side of Zion Canyon. On a very clear day I suspect one might be able to see all the way to Navajo Mtn. in Arizona, but that tremendous clarity of air isn't quite present today. Nevertheless it is a grand view and, after snapping the requisite single and panorama shots, I linger in the Explorer admiring the view while having a little a snack before I embark on the last leg of my Thanksgiving at Bryce Canyon Trip. As always, it's been wonderful, and as I head down the Kolob Canyons Road I'm already looking forward to next year's trip, wondering what new and "old" places I'll be visiting - hopefully with others this time - next year. A wonderful trip!

Peacefulness.