White Pocket & The Grand Staircase
We left Hurricane yesterday morning and headed east into what was, for me anyway, unknown territory. I’d spent a decent amount of time hiking in Southwest Utah, the Moab region, and the Grand Canyon from the south, but that area extending north from the Grand into southern Utah is vast, remote, and largely inaccessible. We’d only have a couple of days to explore, so we knew it would be at most a reconnaissance mission.
We spent the first half of the day driving, getting information at the BLM Visitors’ Center in Kanab, and making sure the boondocking spot Mom had scoped out for the next couple of nights was actually a thing. We didn’t really learn anything new in Kanab, rather the ranger there just bluntly confirmed a lot for us. All of the more popular and accessible features in the area require a permit and everything else requires a stout 4x4. Grand Staircase-Escalante and Vermilion Cliffs National Monuments are still very much the Wild West, and the people who do the actual ground work in the Department of the Interior seem to want to keep it that way. I certainly stand with them.
We knew going in that we didn’t want to deal with The Wave and that complicated and notoriously unlikely lottery situation. I kept seeing things about White Pocket, though, and it seemed like that might be the thing for us: no permit required and a long, tricky drive through deep sand. With a little rain in the forecast, the road tires on the Jeep would surely be fine...
But we had an entire afternoon to play around once we got the RV set up on a scenic roadside pull-off. Nearby was a short hike out to Toadstool Hoodoos, and, having missed Bryce Canyon this time around, that appeared to be the obvious choice. Even this easy introduction to the area made apparent that we were in much harsher climes than we had been at Zion. It’s truly the desert out here.
The approach took us through a dry sandstone wash, with the option to either hike in or alongside the drainage. I mixed it up based on whatever looked more fun. After just about a mile, we reached a spacious amphitheater with a bunch of shroom-esque hoodoos. Based on the number of collapsed mushroom tops, there used to be quite a few more. We wandered around for a while, checking out some large alcoves and scrambling on a few narrow ridges. The overcast sky and high winds weren’t the best conditions for photography, but it’s a cool spot (basically a hidden level of Mario World...).
With only a little light left in the day, we decided to drive up to the ghost town of Paria. I’d seen pictures of some crazy-looking rainbow cliffs in that area, and I just had to see if they were real. After only a short drive on a very well-maintained dirt road, they began to come into view. As we descended into a shallow canyon, we got closer and closer to some of the most beautifully colored rock layers I’ve ever seen: truly painted desert. Topped by a more heavily-eroded red-orange layer, the strata ranged from dark purple and vermilion to gray and tan, interspersed with blue-green shades that I’d never seen before. And it stretched on to the north continuously for miles!
I parked the Jeep near some scenic landmark signs and scrambled around for quite a while trying to find the best light. I was hoping that the sunset would provide some magic, but it was just too cloudy (damn, another excuse to come back). I learned that this was a popular movie location back in the 1950s, and until recently buildings from an often-used movie set still remained on site. I could have stayed there for hours wandering aimlessly under those unspeakably gorgeous cliffs, but I’ll have to settle for a new checklist of Westerns to watch and hope for another visit down the road.
And then this morning the fun really started. It rained intermittently overnight, which made us feel even more confident about the 10-mile drive through deep sand out to White Pocket. The forecasts Mom and I both looked at showed improving conditions throughout the day. We began mid-morning, and the drive out was great. The first 20 miles of the drive are on a wide red clay road which passes Coyote Buttes. Once we turned on the rougher but still maintained road up onto the Paria Plateau, the conditions changed quickly. We got stuck behind several trucks hauling livestock trailers and then it began snowing! OK...roads were still good, so we pushed on.
Thankfully, around the time we reached the sand road, we caught up to a couple of outfitters in 4x4 suburbans. I decided to give them space and stay behind in case we got beached. Fortunately, the sand felt awesome and we made great time out to White Pocket. I had to get a little rowdy with the steering heading down the final hill, but Bob the Jeep kicked serious ass.
It felt a little eerie pulling into a wide, empty parking lot this far out in the middle of absolute nowhere. In the desert. In the fucking snow!?!?! The outfitters had continued down to the lower parking area, and we appeared to be on our own. The snow had almost stopped as we ventured onto a short, sandy trail through sand dunes that initially obscured our destination. We rounded a corner to find the dunes replaced by lobes of light gray petrified sand in every direction. Toward the horizon, bands of sinewy red sandstone broke through that texture. What was this place?
I was initially apprehensive about exploring. The weather felt strange and totally incongruous with our surroundings. But mainly, I just couldn’t handle the shock of how completely unique this place was. It felt like we were walking on a living organism, ripped apart and vulnerable. I couldn’t help but think about that metaphor as I wandered, especially considering the current state of affairs with the unlawful removal of protection of other monuments in this area.
Despite the wet and cold, the sandstone was super grippy and I set off down a winding drainage in the rock. At one steeper point, Mom opted not to follow me. I continued on in a blissful trance. I made it all the way down to a drop-off that overlooked the lower parking area and saw our friends hiking around on the rocks below. A couple of them waved, and I overheard a remark about the fact that I was wearing shorts. To be honest, I was too happy to notice the cold.
I realized I’d been on my own for nearly a half-hour, so I headed back up top. Mom wasn’t there, so I assumed she’d headed back to the Jeep. I found the sandy trail and trudged back. Hmmm. No sign of her there, either. And the snow was beginning to fall pretty heavily. I headed back out to the rocks and started off in the direction opposite my previous wandering. Visibility was starting to get really bad, and a tiny bit of panic was creeping in. This place was much bigger than we’d imagined, and if we were both moving, finding her could be almost impossible. If for some reason she wasn’t moving, that could make things even more difficult.
Just as I was beginning to compile my emergency strategy, I saw a figure emerge from behind one of those massive brain-like globes. She’d gotten a bit turned around and ended up too low, and it had taken her a while to find her way back up. Heart attack at least temporarily averted.
We spent a few final minutes marveling at this unbelievable place, getting absolutely covered by the increasing snowfall. As we walked back through the sand, we noticed we were no longer alone in the parking lot. Another big outfitter Suburban had parked alongside us. The clients inside seemed a little apprehensive to get out to explore and were also slightly dumbfounded by my shorts. I basically told them they’d be crazy not to go check it out. The young woman driving the truck seemed very comfortable with the conditions and gave me a helpful report of their drive out. The sand continued to be fantastic for driving in the snow; the red clay road, on the other hand... “It’s a little dicey?,” I asked. “More than a little dicey, but you should be fine in your Jeep. Just take it slow.”
I was so concerned by the sand, I never really considered the rest of the drive might be effected by the wet. I gunned it up that first big, tricky sandhill with no problems whatsoever. The rest of the sand road was cake. Turning onto the main road felt like victory, but it would not last long.
As soon as we started our descent toward Coyote Wash, the road conditions deteriorated rapidly. It was no longer raining, but this area had obviously seen a lot of recent runoff. A deep layer of thick clay mud had formed and immediately coated Bob’s road tires. On our left was a dropoff into the canyon and on the right was a continuous rock wall with a deep rut at the bottom; with our current lack of traction, we would definitely be stuck if we slid into it. Everytime the road turned left, it also sloped toward that rut. The first time this happened, it snuck up on me. I was only in 4 High and immediately felt like a passenger. I managed to get us stopped and shifted into low.
The next half-hour was the most white-knuckle bit of driving I’ve ever done in my life. Even in 4 Low at 5 mph, it was an endless repetition of slide, crank the wheel against the slide, fishtail to stop, and correct. Lots of meditative deep breathing to keep the vibes cool inside. We were lucky that we never met anybody on the road because I had to use the whole damn thing to navigate that mess. There was one water crossing on the way back, but compared to the actual road, that seemed super safe and stable. As we reached the Wire Pass trailhead, there was a Subie pulling out onto the road very tentatively. I still didn’t trust my handling that much but managed to scoot past. Whew.
Not far after that, the mud started to let up, and I was safely able to drive 10, 15, 20, even 30 mph. There were only a couple patches of the thick stuff between us and the paved road, but I managed those without shifting down. I can’t begin to describe my relief once we reached US 89. Holy. Fucking. Shit. That was an adventure.
Mom and I were pumped to get back to the RV and tell Dad about this crazy trip. With just the tiny glimpse I’ve had of this area, I’m so excited to come back and spend a good, long time exploring. For now, though, we’re gonna head into Page, AZ for the next couple of days to explore the lower Glen Canyon area. And to give Bob a well-earned bath.
