It was almost six months since our previous trip to The Needles in Canyonland National Park. Not having had a proper holiday all year, it was time for another minitrip and early Sunday morning saw us driving west on I-70. The harbinging signs of the approaching winter were plainly evident and the crisp bite to the wind had one reaching for a fleece when exiting the truck.
Seven hours later -- RVs should not be allowed on winding, two-lane highways -- we arrived at "our" designated campsite located a couple of miles outside of the park entrance on BLM land. A couple of days earlier than our arrival, the area got hammered by thunderstorms and our previous tentsite was showing newer signs of stream action. We found a nice alcove nestled back behind a juniper tree. If the weather got dicey again we were situated away from any rivulets of rainfall that might come cascading down and might find some shelter from the auspices of the bluffs.
Ryan bopping to some tunes while preparing a post-hike snack back at basecamp
The next morning we got up relatively early to get on with our trip down Lost Canyon. The weather was going to be iffy during our entire trip. The trail starts off at Squaw Flats campground and the trailhead is shared with several other trails. Earlier that spring we started our Elephant Canyon trip from the same spot
A little over a mile in found us scrambling up to a sandstone pass where the views opened up greatly as we elevated over the desert.
From this pass, I saw a fun little bouldering section. The temptation was too great, even though I swore that I wasn't going to climb this trip. I sprained my wrist somehow earlier in the week and had limited mobility. But when it comes to red sandstone, I'm like a junkie looking for a fix. Funny though, it looked a lot smaller from back there.
I got up about 12 feet before I realized any forward progress will be sketchy and downclimbing downright dangerous without my climbing slippers. With my vertical craving satiated, further on we went, hiking down a layered funnel that would make a great waterslide if and when it rained.
We dropped back down into the canyon for a short bit before climbing back up onto more sandstone. Up and over and around beautiful formations, we finally hit our spot, a small opening in a wall that opened up onto Salt Creek and the Peekaboo Trail. You can see where we came from behind Tasha.
The entire time I had been keeping tabs on the black, ominous clouds that would pass overhead. While eating our lunch at the hole in the wall, we were entertained by a lightning show to the east, where the Blue Mountains were veiled in misty white and crowned with menacing black. Surely the higher elevations were getting a layer of powder. Knowing the mile we just completed would be treacherous wet, we made our way back.
When we reached a point that would be easy to retreat from in case the heavens cascaded down, we left the cairns behind and went exploring. We climbed up and down formations, checking out various cirques and the desert floor several hundred feet beneath us. Getting there from our vantage points could be made quickly with one slip. Back in the potholes section, I found a small slice of Eden in the unlikeliest places. It's amazing this little wetland survived the harsh summer and did not evaporate.
Ryan just being Ryan
Near by we jumped down into a gash in the flats and discovered a cave that opened back up to the desert floor. Back in here we found an old Puebloan grainery. The remains of where they kept their cache were still present in the clay and straw they used for building. You can see part of it behind Tasha's right shoulder.
It wound up being our best day and brought me back to my childhood visiting Canyonlands. I never would go hiking on trails. Instead I would spend hours exploring around on the sandstone formations around the Squaw Flats campground. When you just march from Point A to Point B, you can miss much of life. Every once in a while, you just have to color outside of the lines.
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