Honeymooning in
Utah’s Mighty Five
7 National Parks
3,200 Miles
3 Near-Death Experiences
Our Honeymoon
For our honeymoon, my newlywed husband and I headed west to visit seven different national parks surrounding Southern Utah. It was a road trip we had talked about when we first met, when we discovered that we’d both lived in the same Arizona town at the same time without ever meeting. I was especially excited because the novel I was in the process of writing takes place in a similar desert. After Mother Nature made multiple attempts at turning me into a widow, however, I decided that going to the beach may have been a smarter choice. Nonetheless, Utah provided the adventure of a lifetime, in which we climbed new heights—both literally, and in our relationship.
— July & August, 2022 —
What was it like?
Parks visited
Petrified Forest
Zion
Bryce Canyon
Capitol Reef
Canyon-lands
Arches
Mesa Verde
Petrified Forest
“You take my hand as we wind down switchbacks between the smooth-sided slopes, whose creases hold glittering fragments of petrified wood that wink at us like jewels in a mine.”
Fossilized in Time
Zion
There’s Something About Zion
There’s something about Zion. Is it the way the towering sandstone mountains, worthy of their biblical name, create a never ending backdrop of perfect focal points around us? Is it the warm scent of smoked sage and rosemary that blooms from the mint-colored shrubs at their bases? Or the scrawny brown deer that boldly nibble on them outside the orange glow of our jack-o-lantern tent, tickled with rain?
Zion National Park
Angels Landing
The path before us shrinks into what feels like a balance beam, until there is absolutely nothing to our right or left but open air. When I find the courage to take my eyes off my feet, I see the vast canyon comprised of sandstone boulders in every variety, their sides rough as though carved by a mighty carpenter still in the process of sanding them smooth. Between them, white shuttles like caterpillars inch alongside the turquoise river that slices the valley, bookended by lush green trees that contrast the pale red rocks. All around us along the razorback ridge, bushes, palms, and pines twist impossibly out cracks in the stone.
“I do not belong here: rising above my rank to this lofty peak where the angels come to land.”
A Mortal Among Seraphim
The Narrows
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Sore and exhausted from the day before, Chris and I took our time getting up this morning. We ate a delicious breakfast at the Lodge cafe, and asked at the front desk about the weather to see if we could hike the Narrows. To our surprise, they were open—but at our own risk! Flash floods were in the forecast for the afternoon.
Suddenly on a time crunch, we hustled to rent boots and walking sticks for the other most strenuous hike in Zion. Unfortunately, the previous day’s rain turned the river into a muddy brown color, but it was still beautiful. I was surprised at how difficult it was to walk in the water, which moved with a fairly strong current. The rocks were slippery and invisible due to the unusually opaque water.
Chris was surprised and proud of me for keeping up. The icy cold water really did help keep my ankle happy, and the walking stick was a lifesaver. The walls of the canyon towered over us, adorned with hanging bushes and trees. Unfortunately, we never reached the iconic “Subway,” pictured in illustrations and posters. We trekked as far as we could until the time when they said it would be unsafe to stay in the Narrows, then had to turn around.
Still, I can now say I’ve been to the Narrows, and as I promised Chris, I’m sure I’ll come back again one day. Any longer than what we did, however, and I don’t think my legs could have brought me back to our cabin.
As if that were not enough adventure for the day, on our way back from the Narrows there was a rock slide, just a few yards ahead of us! At first, I thought it was thunder. By the time I realized it was far too loud to be thunder, it was already barrelling down the cliff onto the path. Dust filled the air, coating my eyes and tongue. Chris quickly ushered me down under the shelter of a nearby boulder, but I was terrified he would leave me to run and see if everyone was alright. I thought for sure they could not be. “Oh God!” I kept crying, thinking that everyone on the path must be dead!
By some miracle, however, no one was hurt. Worried that the slide might cause further avalanche, Chris and I quickly joined others in crossing the river to get away from the main path. To my surprise, after the initial shock of it all, many people continued about their day like nothing had happened. They took pictures and walked across the spot like they were at a zoo.
I, however, was yet again faced with my mortality. I could have died. I could have had to watch Chris die. We could have had to pull bodies out of the rubble. We didn’t, however, and like most tragedies, life continued on. We passed by other people on the trail who were completely oblivious of the recent danger.
The hours following, however, everyone knew about the rock slide, and we would always answer with the up-close account of what happened. Terribly shaken up, Chris and I returned to our cabin, where I showered and rested while Chris kindly returned our equipment. When he finally returned, he napped, we ate dinner at the diner, and we slept.
Bryce Canyon
Bryce Canyon Trail Ride
We descend into the spindles, gradually transforming what seemed a distant painting into walls that tower over us. At every turn, we discover new castles, monuments, windows, and valleys, all reaching their blood-orange fingertips toward the periwinkle sky. Can we really be just miles from where we started? For I feel as though I’ve been transported to Mars…
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We’d set our alarms for 7am, but couldn’t get out of bed until 8am, we were so exhausted and sick. We went to the buffet breakfast at the Zion Lodge and enjoyed the view out its window of the deer grazing among tourists under the great oak tree. I’ve been eating so much on this trip and felt no guilt, because we absolutely needed the sustenance after all we’d done!
Packing our bags, we checked out and bid farewell to our little cabin, stopping one last time at the Visitor Center so I could pick up a “I hiked the Narrows” pin. Then we drove as fast as we could about two hours to Bryce, where we were scheduled to go on a horseback tour of the canyon.
My horse, a creamy white albino, was named Shine. He kept his eyes squinted most of the time, apparently because his blue eyes were sensitive to the light. It gave him a sleepy appearance that matched his lazy attitude. Chris followed behind me on his horse Turf, and our tour guide walked directly in front of me.
One of my biggest disappointments with trail rides is that they are often slow and boring, with no opportunities to really ride. This was not one of those tours! Yet again, I found myself scared for my life as Shine toed the edge of steep switchbacks, one misstep away from tumbling to our deaths. We zigzaged down an extremely steep cliff into the canyon, and almost instantly were presented with the most stunning views. I felt like I’d been transported to an old Western movie, with our guide “Yee-yeeing” and hollering in a long, slow drawl.
All around us were massive sand dunes and steep hoodoos in every kind of bizare shape. I snapped photos with my GoPro, keeping hold of the Western saddle with one hand. Riding a horse came back to me as easily as riding a bike, and I felt proud of my heritage as a cowboy’s daughter.
Every time I thought we’d seen the best view we could possibly see, we would come before another. The best was when we emerged from a small tunnel that revealed castles upon castles of sandstone spires. We switchbacked down the steepest trail yet, leaning way back into our saddles. My pinky toes went numb from pressing into the heels of my stirrups.
As we walked and trotted, dark blue clouds began to swell on the horizon. They were beautiful in contrast to the orange and peach colors of the hoodoos, but they became less becoming when they opened up thick rain, hail, and lighting upon us. Many of our horses got spooked and reeled. From there on out, we had to hurry back as fast as we could. My eyes were bleary and I felt the hail pelting my head and shoulders. Lighting would flash and almost immediately echo in tumultuous thunder nearby. We passed countless blackened, dead trees that reminded me how very real the threat of being struck by lightning was.
The rain pooled in streams of mud that trickled past us, filling the previously dry river far below. It seemed forever before we made it back to the corral, soaking wet from head to toe. My legs shook and my knees ached as I dismounted, and Chris and I made our way to the Lodge, freezing cold, to check in and warm up.
The rest of the day, we felt sick as dogs. We ate soup, salad, tea, and macarons at the Lodge buffet, talked to some New Yorkers from Westchester County, browsed the gift shop, and then returned to our room to rest. The cabins were as delightful here as in Zion, covered in Native American art, wooden railings and lamps that looked like firelight. Chris was too sick to do anything but sleep, so I went for a walk by myself.
I was surprised to find that the most stunning overlook was just a few minutes’ walk away, where a sidewalk circled the entire valley we trekked in just hours before. The storm had passed, leaving the air cool and the sky vibrant. The sun set, and I returned to tend to my feverish husband.
Capitol Reef
“The view is an astounding array of color: from the pale gray road that snakes through parakeet-green pastures, at the bases of cardinal cliffs that fade from red to blue as they melt into the hazy horizon.”
A Grove In A Graveyard
Canyonlands
Canyonlands invites you to explore a wilderness of countless canyons and fantastically formed buttes carved by the Colorado River and its tributaries. Rivers divide the park into four districts: Island in the Sky, The Needles, The Maze, and the rivers themselves. These areas share a primitive desert atmosphere, but each offers different opportunities for sightseeing and adventure.
Source: National Park Service
Arches
It is called Delicate for a reason: one side is precariously balanced on an ever-shrinking steeple, impermanent as the rest of the landscape, perpetually progressing from pocket, to arch, to collapse. It occurs to me that I’ve now borne witness to an icon that may one day be nothing but a memory. My children’s children might gape at me as they ask, You were there before it fell?
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Despite still being sick, Chris and I forced ourselves out of bed so we could make it to our timed entry into Arches. First, however, I enjoyed a much craved white chocolate mocha from the Aarchway Inn Cafe, and a less exciting complimentary breakfast. We stopped at the Visitor Center on the way into the National Park so I could get my passport stamp and we could pick up maps and other souvenirs. The main event of the day was Delicate Arch, the iconic symbol of Arches National Park! The three-mile out-and-back hike was known to be strenuous, but it allowed hikers to actually touch the arch, not just view it like at the overlooks.
Although it was early in the day, we quickly realized that what made this hike more difficult than others was the heat. Except for a few small bush-like trees, there was very little shade. The majority of the hike was over a massive rock with no real trail to follow, nor easy footholds. Just one huge slope.
As we hiked, hiding in tiny shadows wherever we could find them, people passing by us repeated the phrase, “It’s worth it!” Carrying on, we reached the end of the massive, flat boulder, and entered a portion with more variety of terrain, and an easier path to follow. It wound up the side of a cliff until finally, coming around the corner, we saw it: Delicate Arch!
The icon stood alone on the edge of a cliff, and next to a deep, eroded hole. We had to walk on the sloping rim around it to get to the arch. Surprisingly, people didn’t crowd it, but politely took turns going under it for photos. Chris and I got someone to take our photo, and walked carefully over to stand beneath it. Beyond the arch was a sheer drop and a spectacular view! My legs shook as I tried to take it all in without losing my balance. I made sure to touch it as we left, knowing one day it would collapse like so many others.
The hike back was significantly easier and faster. We, like those who passed us, told tired hikers that it was worth the effort, and encouraged them onward. When we reached the truck, it was around 1pm, so we decided to see some more famous arches before heading back: Windows and Double Arch.
As we approached the first “Window,” it truly looked like a window. The only thing in the round opening of the rock was sky. It was impossible to know what the other side looked like unless you hiked to its base. There were more people at the first than the second, because the second required hiking down a primitive path. I went as far as the lowest point below the arch, without hiking up to the Window’s base, while Chris took a break at the overlook.
On the way back to the truck, we detoured to Turret Arch, one I hadn’t heard of but that I actually liked best out of the three. It looked like a keyhole, with a small (by comparison) peep hole to one side. At first, it looked too steep to climb to the arch’s base, but I did, and the other side was unexpectedly flat. All the other arches had sheer drops on the other side. From there, we could see both Windows clearly, side by side.
By this point, Chris—being sick—was getting tired. We drove the short distance to the adjacent parking lot, where the trailhead for Double Arch began. It was not far at all, and was probably one of my favorites of all. There was no clear path to the base of the second arch, but you could climb steep rocks to various vantage points. I went about halfway up, off to the right of the first arch, so I could see both of them, as well as the beautiful view of what we left behind. It was impossible to take it all in at once without craning my neck this way and that. When I took pictures, it was hard to tell which way was up—if I could fit everything in the frame to begin with.
Exhausted from our adventures, we returned to the Inn to freshen up. Chris really wasn’t feeling well, so we got pizza and watched the first half of Rush Hour on TV before bed.
Mesa Verde
For over 700 years, the Ancestral Pueblo people built thriving communities on the mesas and in the cliffs of Mesa Verde. Today, the park protects the rich cultural heritage of 26 Pueblos and Tribes and offers visitors a spectacular window into the past. This World Heritage Site and International Dark Sky Park is home to over a thousand species, including several that live nowhere else on earth.
Source: National Park Service
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