“Beauty from Ugly, pt. 2”

If you missed part 1, I’d encourage you to read it first. On a recent trip to the Southwest, my wife and I were repeatedly overwhelmed by a beauty wholly foreign to our corner of the world. Part One shares some of our beauty encounters in Zion National Park in southern Utah.

After a day’s hiking in Zion National Park, and having only one more day in the area, we debated. Back in Zion? Jaunt ninety minutes northeast to Bryce Canyon? Drive 90 minutes east back to Lake Powell? Although one could easily spend several days hiking in Zion, we decided there’s just too much else to see in the area, so ruled out a return to the park.

Bryce Canyon would be a great option, I thought…until I checked the weather forecast: high in the low 40s with a good chance of snow showers. We came to the southwest to get away from that kind of weather! Yes, I’ve seen the photos of the canyon just after a snowfall, but honestly, we didn’t bring clothing for such temps.

So, opted to head back east to Page, Lake Powell, and Horseshoe Bend. Remember, we drove that stretch in the dark a couple nights before. I had seen the turnoff for Horseshoe Bend, thought it’d be an awesome spot to visit.

Off we went.

Driving in the area, we had seen several signs related to Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument—most said something about saving it. Ignorant of the issue, I did some online research and discovered that an area was set aside a few years ago covering 1.8 million acres. The Trump Administration reduced the area to 1.1 million—hence the signs.

But what was this place?

I learned it’s pretty much undeveloped, wild, and diverse. Just the kind of area I’d like to explore…but where to begin? And how? We had so little time. Again, driving from Page to Kanab in the dark, I recalled seeing National Park Service signage related to Grand Staircase, but couldn’t recall where, exactly. Hoped we would find it as we headed back to Page.

Whizzing along at 65 mph along Hwy 89, we sped past a gravel parking area overlooking some interesting rock formations to the north. In the blur, I saw the Grand Staircase sign. I decided to turn around and investigate.

Good decision.

Turned in the parking lot, got out, took a few pictures. Discovered it was the “Paria Townsite”—apparently where an old western movie was filmed. No vestiges of the movie set remained, thankfully.

But then I noticed at one end of the parking lot was a dirt road heading in the direction of the range before us, but couldn’t tell where it went. Kind of just disappeared. Asked Chris if she was up for a bit of adventure. Of course she was!

How to describe this little venture….

First, it felt remote. The further we drove down the rough, washboard dirt road, the more civilization faded into the distance. Not a sound could be heard but what nature provided. Very few people, too. The whole time we were in this area we saw maybe a dozen people.

Second, surprising! In our travels—especially in Vermont—we discovered that some of the best spots are found as we take an unexpected, spur-of-the-moment route. Paria Townsite confirmed this experience.

When we went to Zion, we had a fairly good idea of what to expect. I’d seen several YouTube videos of people who’d been there. Of course, the videos can’t do justice to actually being there, but they do take the surprise element out of the adventure. Not here! Around every bend, up every ascent something new, unexpected, beautiful, diverse, interesting confronted us.

Third, overwhelming. Having but a short time in such an area, we simply couldn’t take it all in. The dirt road dead-ends at the Paria River—little more than a stream this time of year. The solitude could rejuvenate the spirit. The silence—excepting the babbling stream—could soothe the soul. We would welcome camping here a couple nights. But alas….

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Fourth, beautiful. A kind of beauty we never experienced before is everywhere. The very diversity of the formations and colors of the terrain suggested a rich palate. True, it wasn’t like a lush garden of flowering variety. A different kind of beauty we typical Midwesterners don’t encounter. It is—stick with me here—a beauty from ugly.

We didn’t even scratch the surface, but it definitely whetted the appetite to return someday. Someday.

On to Horseshoe Bend.

Again, you’ve likely seen the pictures. Looking down on the Colorado River from the cliffs high above reminds that pictures cannot do justice.

A photograph, or even a video, simply cannot convey it all. Without actually being there, you don’t experience the context; can’t take in the scale of what’s before you.

Where did this beautiful phenomenon come from? From something very ugly.

To be continued….