The Glories of Utah (Part III)--Finally with Pics!

And that’s only the back story to my once hidden love affair of all things Utah. Okay, so I may have gotten carried away, for there is still plenty in Utah that I would be happy to see done away with. That, however, is for another day. More importantly, the immense diversity of southern Utah is waiting to have its share of the limelight. What better place to begin than the peculiar Cedar City? I say peculiar due to its strange identity crisis (not nearly as bad, however, as the identity crisis Puerto Rico faces). I suppose that can be blamed by the Institute of Higher Education so conveniently placed in the middle of this mild mannered farm town. Farmers and Shakespeare…Who knew?

A Typical Day in Cedar City

Let me say this as one of the top reasons I love Utah so much: Just about anywhere I live in Utah I can be within a fifteen to thirty minute drive of one or more canyons. Cedar City was no different. In this case it was more like a five minute drive (really it only takes about five minutes to get anywhere in Cedar City). It was not long after arriving in Cedar City that I feel in love with the Dixie National Forest. One of my first experiences with the striking wilderness nearing Cedar City brought me to Cedar Breaks. I happened to be chilling in my dorm when some girls I had not met invited friends and I up the canyon. They were providing pizza. I can never thank pizza enough. In times like these I can be a little antisocial. I silently ate my pizza and stared into the natural amphitheatre as if the hoodoos were putting on a play just for me. The stunning views of Cedar Breaks only left me to wonder what other beauties were to be found in these canyons. Ultimately, I would not be disappointed.

Cedar Canyon, as I call it, probably mistakenly, is extremely glorious in itself. The drive up to Cedar Breaks National Monument made that very apparent to me. Sunday drives there were unbeatable. At any time if I needed to get away a short drive would take me into the canyon. There I had a couple of spots I would climb to-often in the dark and not knowing how I would get down-just to think in solitude. Other occasions called for friends and good times. Camping trips were as good there as anywhere else. Outdoor activities were never out of reach and the canyons were often utilized.

Eventually, a full moon would grace us with its presence. It was time to “goop the loop”. With dates, my friends and I made the late night drive to hike the loop in Bryce Canyon. Apparently, this was a tradition of some sort and how it got its name is still unbeknownst to me. Hiking in southern Utah under the shadow of the moon is an experience not to be missed. The moon shadow accompanied with the noises of the night and the sunless crisp mountain air brought a unique feeling, which neared spooky, as we crossed into shadows of rock formations and wildlife. Maybe it was the unsociable state of mind I fell into at nature’s hand that caused my date to become so bored that she no longer spoke with but rather gabbed with her friend, my friend’s date, for the rest of the night. Either way I was left enjoying what nature intended.

Bryce Canyon National Park is just as magnificent during the day as it is during the night. Unimaginable rock formations litter the canyon. Thousands and thousands of hoodoos have made this red canyon their home. The effects of interactional chaos amongst Captain Planet’s alter egos and time are dramatically displayed for visitors, world over, to gawk at. Ebenezer Bryce wasn’t joking when he said it was a “helluva place to lose a cow”. Anybody up for a game of hide and go seek?

As spring and summer fade to fall and winter the green landscape of Cedar City and its nearby wilderness fade as fall foliage springs to life with vibrant colors for a short time. Mother Nature’s pallet of water color slowly merge as colors are at first exuberant but quickly merge into a monochrome of brown. In effort to start over the pallet is flushed and white again. Dreadful as it is at times winter in Utah can be enjoyed. Fortunately, even in southern Utah. See, just a little northeast of Cedar City lays a little known, little attended ski resort called Brian Head. Enjoying snowboarding but not the costs of it I found Brian Head to be the perfect little resort to hit up at least a couple times a season. Not to mention, Brian Head offers ski bike rentals. Yep, you heard me right, ski bikes. Furthermore, for the young at heart, Brian Head hosts a snowtube adventure like no other with its snow tubing park. Just be careful. Finally, when Mother Nature reorganizes her painter’s pallet with greens and yellows and pinks and purples Brian Head makes for an excellent mountain biking adventure and apparently a terrifically challenging disc golf course. All this at Utah’s surprisingly highest elevation ski resort: in a region of the globe not usually known for its snow, the southwest United States.

Ski Bikes at Brian Head

Mischief & Mayhem

Hidden gems are abundant in southern Utah. Unpopulated hiking trails were plentiful; sometimes even leading to unnamed arches. Biking trails, such as the “C trail”, named after the mountainside C, which appropriately stands for Cedar City. (Which is, by the way, another reason I love Utah: It’s really hard to get lost here. Mountainside letters tell you what city you’re in or near. The streets follow a grid system. North, south, east, and west are easily distinguishable by opposing natural landscape). Bonfires and shooting guns were one of many favorite pastimes in Cedar City with ample spots to reek havoc without burning the forest down or causing too much damage. A few of my favorite hidden gems have to include the Parowan Gap, Kanaraville, and Toquerville Falls. The first of which, the Parowan Gap, was an ideal spot to take a date. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the “scary” story to go along with the destination. Regardless, the Parowan gap is a spectacular site as it is a result of a rare occurrence in nature, a wind gap. Additionally, the Parowan Gap is also known for its significant hieroglyphics contained on the gap’s walls. Kanaraville, as we move one, has become a traditional Labor Day hike for a select group of us. Hiking upstream though a small river and slot canyons leads us to natural water slides and ice cold waterfalls. Never a downer Kanarville will always be full of good memories with nature and friends. Lastly, the hidden gem of Toquerville requires a truck, or a SUV, at least it is suggested. Cars have made attempts, some have succeeded, in the end; however, it can’t be good for the car. Anyway, a descent drive down a rugged dirt road would take us to a dazzling network of small waterfalls that eventually form a swimming hole and then a river. The waterfalls create an excellent place to play, swim, cliff jump, and hike in the summer heat. Hidden gems are best when remain hidden. Now exposed to you, please enjoy responsibly.

Parowan Gap

Three Pictures of Kanaraville

*Sorry, I couldn't figure out how to get the captions directly under the pictures. I am definetly not a pro-blogger!

The Glories of Utah (Part II)

Gratitude must also be given for the fact that I belonged to an organization that emphasized developing character and personal fitness through activity in the outdoors and in the community. Participating in the Boys Scouts of America was encouraged in my family. Although I whined and fussed at times concerning my parents’, namely my father’s, insistence on my participation in the Boy Scouts I thoroughly enjoyed and looked forward to campouts and adventures. Viewing the reels of my Boy Scout past I can strongly say that outside of the home and church the Boy Scouts of America was the most influential institution in shaping the person I have become today and the person I will be in the future. Utah is truly a haven for the Boy Scouts to teach young men the joys of the outdoors with an endless variety of natural tools to teach the programs objectives. Through the Boy Scouts I was able to gain a love for camping in the true sense of the word: Everything one needed was to be packed in a pack to be hauled into the campsite a few miles away from the cars and in the end everything was to be packed back out leaving not a trace that anyone had even been there. Even with all the experience my family had camping I cannot begin to claim we were the best or brightest campers. My brothers and I had a reputation of burning shoes, socks, shirts, and even ourselves during campouts. This was only necessary because we often found these things wet, like, for instance, the time I lost my sleeping bag in Tibblefork Reservoir. Furthermore, purposefully or not I found myself too often with fewer than one corner left of both my firemanship card and my toteinchip(sp?) card. I guess it was safer to keep me away from fires and shard objects!

My father finally got what was coming to him for pushing Boy Scouts on us. After years of counting beans as his church service he was recently assigned the role of Scout Master. It’s only fitting for before he was even involved in the scouts he was leading my brothers and I on backpacking trips that would last anywhere from three to seven days. I remember my feelings about the first one I went on quite vividly. I must have been 13 or 14 years old. Dad planned a 3 day trip that seemed relatively easy. My mother dropped us off at the trailhead, as was the custom, and we were sent on our way packin’. I was excited but worried I would not be able to keep up with my older brothers. My worries quickly turned into fear as I peered up the trail. Ahead of us the trail took a sharp incline up the face of the mountain. Surely, this was a joke. The joke was overplayed and lasted the whole day. Somehow I was convinced to go the next year and the next. Over the years I even grew to love the cold crisp early morning mountain air; camping by a river with the sound of rushing water the provided us with a fresh meal that brought us praising the fact that we could forgo at least one MRE meal; not to mention the vast solitude of being there with our small group and the nearest person or population was miles and miles away, unreachable by nearly any other means than by foot. The Uinta and Wasatch Mountain ranges were typical destinations for these little adventures. Their backcountry beauty is awe-inspiring, so much so it invokes a person to a point where one will find him or herself leaving the simple, and complex, conveniences of modern life to enjoy its beauty and solitude, at least for a short time, time and time again. With this being said, a little shout out is appropriate for my father for organizing those trips and to the other adults who assisted came along along with my brothers and our many friends who joined us. Even amidst the occasional pain, injuries, and lost wanderings we made it home alive and better for going. I thank you all that made those experiences possible.

Another shout out is now in order. Nathan Hansen and family introduced me to one of my favorite places in the entire world: Lake Powell. I’ll also have you know, Hansen family, that I am ruined for life now because I don’t know if Lake Powell can ever be as fantastic as it was with your family. And now that I have been I long to go back at times and sometimes it’s just not possible and so I cry. Just remember, those tears are because of you! I love southern Utah for so many reasons and Lake Powell has to top the list. In all the places I’ve been and all the places I have camped out never have I seen a night sky that is comparable to the night sky I enjoyed in awe laying on top of the houseboat in Lake Powell. Rarely did I know a name of a constellation but that did not matter for Grant would have the answers for me. And when he was not answering our ponderings concerning the stars a melody would play from his harmonica. Early mornings, when the party animals from other boats were still sleeping off their hangovers, provided a lake of glass: Conditions ideal for skiing, wakeboarding, or knee-boarding. Lake Powell may not have been the site of my introduction to water skiing or wakeboarding but it was definitely the place I developed a certain affinity for it. A floating house, bath tub like water, friends, boats, cliffs and more make Lake Powell an unforgettable memory for me. Even though I found myself being pulled away after a nap on an intertube certain to be heading towards my inevitable death I have nothing bad to say about Lake Powell. Sadly, I have not been back to this favorite place of mine more than twice. Once more with the Hansen family and a third time to camp, which I must confess during which something felt missing…

The Glories of Utah (Part I)

I realize that to many of you it will seem crazy and absurd to you that I would post a blog concerning the many joys and glories of living in Utah. Considering I was always the kid that would have given anything to escape this so called "barren wasteland" such a blog is ludicrous. I had a whole list of reasons: Some reasonable, some unreasonable, and some personal. Eventually I would grow out of that phase and would realize the Mecca for outdoor fun that Utah was and that I was not taking advantage of its goodness.

Over the years I have found ways to leave my hometown and my home state for “greener grass”. Some experiences turned out positive and others not so positive. I could go on about the memories I created and the friendships that will last beyond my departure, not to mention the trouble I got into. However, the point I want to stress is that I always came back to my Utah home. Not always happily and not always purposefully; regardless of the attitude soul, body, and mind always made it back. And now, in retrospect, I cannot, for the life of me, recall a dull, uneventful, pointless, meaningless, boring Utah summer. If nothing else I have that simple fact to hold on to as I consider the offerings of this great state.
Growing up in Utah, and namely in Utah County, I rarely found myself more than an half hour away from open mountainous land. American Fork Canyon just laid to the southeast and Provo Canyon to the southeast. Not to mention for a quick trip to trouble and fun friends and I just had to head five minutes east, up the foothills into Dry Canyon. Many days and nights were spent in these mountains and canyons. American Fork Canyon, above Tibblefork Reservoir, held one of our (or at least mine) favorite camping spots right along a river. Provo River was the site of some memorable tubing trips as well as some great catches for a trout dinner. Before it was developed, the hills just east of my home held some of our favorite “diggin’” routes. Many a night friends and I would, in attempt to woo the ladies, end up in any one of those canyons, and a handful of others, with a fire, some marshmallows and Starbursts, and of course the ostentatious guitar. And that’s not all: Just a short drive west from my childhood home brought us to the cesspool we call Utah Lake, which is far worse than the fictional Lake Springfield which produces three eyed fish and the like. Regardless of the toxic waste that embodies Utah Lake I found myself not only boating in the cesspool but also wading through its stench at a feeble attempt to spear fish and swimming in the lake as I assuredly swallowed a gulp or two (which actually explains my super human powers…). Of course this is only a brief synopsis of the joys that filled my early life; brief and within close proximity of my childhood home. And of course I can’t go on to describe the trouble my friends and I got in to (there may be some sensitive parents that catch wind!), and there is no chance I will confess the identity of the friend that started that forest fire…

I thank the Good Lord I wasn’t born five to ten years later when television and video games began to dominate the lives of the young. Granted, the phase was beginning but it never completely captivated my friends and me. We always had enough options or if all else failed we created our own fun with the resources we had, of which, as I just said, we had enough options. A fine little cycle we had. When boredom sunk in or variety was sought we could occasionally find ourselves at Seven Peaks Waterpark—Utah’s largest Waterpark (I’ll be expecting my free season pass in the mail Seven Peaks!), Classic Skating in Orem, University Mall, Scera Shell, or one of the nearby public pools. All in all, rarely did we have to resort to mindless video games and TV watching to keep ourselves entertained. Sure it happened now and then, but for the majority of the time we found ourselves out and about enjoying one of the 300+ sunny summer days Utah offers every year.

*I originally planned for this to be one blog and then I got carried away. I soon realized that I wanted to write so much more than originally planned. And truly, to give Utah the respect and admiration it deserves it will require two or more parts. Furthermore, this blog has seemed to take a chronological approach, therefore, as the memories become more and more recent more vivid detail will surely be included. I hope to, in the near future, collect pictures to include in the proceeding blogs of the series as well as to add to this blog. In the meanwhile bear with me and the emptiness of my page. Finally, if you have a particular memory that you fell I have or may leave out please comment so or email me and I will appreciate the reminder of such fond memories. Thanks for reading!