Spring Canyon Hike and Much Ado About Nothing: Un-wad Your Panties, People!

Let's flashback to Capitol Reef for a seemingly endless 13? mile hike up "groovy baby" Spring Canyon, featuring hikers Suzanne, Debbie, Jim, Gayle, Bobbie and your's truly.


The outing begins with a stutter, wandering aimlessly up and down route 24's shoulderless pavement, trying to find a suitable crossing place on the Freemont River. Spring Canyon is well hidden until after crossing; trust your instincts and press on, it will eventually reveal itself. When Canyoneering in a National Park, one must keep in mind that "secrets" easily revealed are not really secrets anymore; it takes work, wading, scrambling, going farther, and even getting a little bit lost to have a day alone.

We fought individual routes through thickets of willows, letting a little blood and yelling, "Where are you?" and "Over here." Finally we stumbled upon a suitable crossing point for the Freemont and waded into our adventure.

But before going on a nice hike, allow me to briefly digress and defend my "turf" against the Evil Dr. Know-it-all and expound upon on of the fundamental principles of RV Gang get-togethers…the walks, hikes, bike rides, social hours, and the common sense of a boondock circle of wagons.

(Disclaimer: Some readers are taking sides and even taking up "weapons" in the "tit for tat" back and forth war of words and philosophies that goes on between pal Boonie and myself. Really, get over your egos and relax people. The Boonster and I are the best of friends and always will be. We are like husband and wife, deeply in love, but not understanding why the "other" is the way they are. So before getting your panties in a wad and lashing out and taking sides, realize this is a War of Roses…two extremes, husband and wife, id and ego, commies and the free world…trying to find common ground and have a little acerbic fun along the way.)

We could meet up, I suppose, in some barren wasteland, a prickly place, devoid of eye-candy, postcards, and natural wonders. We could camp where it's too cold, too hot, too wet, or too lonely amongst recommended rigors that will somehow toughen us mentally and physically in some way, shape, or form. We could throw out all modern conveniences and appliances, shrink our Big Box RVs, deny ourselves fine wine and tasty home cooked meals—live on rice and beans—forego beer! and sex. We could take vows chastity, silence and purity. We could stare into little screens half the day and all night—shivering or sweating—thumbing a thesaurus for pretentious words to drop like ridiculing bombs, then figure new ways to rattle the cages of misguided, wide-bodied, big butted, weight challenged RV friends who are on a different path in their golden years... trying to pass the few remaining sands of time with levity, agreeable hikes, and bike rides in eye-soothing postcard landscapes. But, to put it in the succinct and profound "brevity is the soul of wit" response of "Little Adventures" Jim, Why? 

Now, on with today's slideshow... 

Hey Suzanne and Gayle…Bobbie wants you to know that the Freemont is more than ten feet wide

Pasty white legs???

Debbie and Suzanne wading in

Jim and Gayle leading the way

Dry as a bone on this day...

The ultimate alcove...

Sprinkles of Fall torching cottonwoods

In every canyon a hiker is bound to run across a section of boulders and choke stones that fall from the rim overhead. Hey, when your number's up, it's up...

Some of the boulders are as big as houses, but it would only take a pebble,going at terminal velocity to kill a person

Hiking out in lower light