Lucky Slots

Bobbie and I have slogged, slithered, and sloshed through many Utah slot canyons over the years, but none so slender, confining, graceful, and exhilarating as Peekaboo, Spooky, and Brimstone. Warning: If you are bothered by attenuated places, things like crowded elevators,suffocating MRI procedures, or hotel beds with sheets tucked tight as a straightjacket, these slots are not for you.

Have I told you how much I adore tough women? A mere couple of days after Bobbie's Crash and Bleed in Capitol Reef, she's ready to roll...battered and bruised face and all. 

From our boondock camp off Hole-in-the-Rock-washboard- road, we motored Sue Bee some 26 give-or-take miles to Dry Gulch Trailhead, and I speak literally—like sun-drenched, desiccated, hard as a rock, dry-as-the-last-raisin-in-a-box-of outdated-Walmart cereal Dry Gulch. Oh pity the Mormon pioneers who sought this route as a shortcut to their Promised Land. 

Right out of the sand-box gulch, Peekaboo does it's best to discourage entry; it's steep and sandy, not a single finger-hold to be found. Never afraid to make fools (or statistics, for that matter) out of ourselves, we marched right to the head of the line of "How in the Hell" bystanders, and gave it a go. 

True to form, we struggle, slip, fall, and start over as they took notes on how not too attack such a steep, sanded surface. Ascent to the second level is made via a fortunate find...an old branch...else we'd still be there spinning our wheels. 

Beyond those initial hiccups, we entered a fairytale land that would make Walter Disney smile from his crypt.  

Above: Battered Bobbie, sporting a black and blue bruise mustache and fat lips.
Below: My battered legs; kinda shoulda wore long pants with kneepads.

This playground made us wide-eyed and giggle like a couple of kids in Alice's Wonderland...up through rabbit holes, under arches, inching passageways so freaking narrow we are forced to remove backpacks and suck in tummies. It's so narrow, well, let's just say Dolly Parton wouldn't stand a chance in Peekaboo. 

Facial-expression apologies in advance, folks: I found it difficult to wipe the silly kid-grin off my face...

We emerged from the shadowed coolness of Peekaboo wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to make a sunny sand-slog over to upper Spooky. Vistas abound 360 degrees.

"Fifty-Mile Bench" in the background...a pinion-forested plateau that delineates Hole-in-the-Rock Road's southern capture. 

 It doesn't take long to reach upper Spooky. There is collective doubt that anything could top Peekaboo.
We were wrong...

Bobbie, entering upper Spooky

Stay Tuned for Spooky, then off to the bottomless depths of Brimstone.  😦

Peace out,
Mark and Bobbie...who gratefully acknowledges and appreciates all the well-wishes expressed via comments and emails in regards to her "Crash and Bleed in Capitol Reef !