From Many Pools to Secret Slots In Zion

It took a while for introductions. BCB reader/friend John Q and wife Joallen (fifth and sixth from the right) met up with the RV Gang for a couple of hikes this past weekend, trading the snow/cold of Indianapolis for sun and fun in Zion. Like ankles in nursing homes, our ranks have swollen—might there be van in our future? I don't think so, as a few members will be chased south soon by a forecast that calls for mostly sunny skies and daytime temps dropping into the low 60's. That's ok…more sun for us :))

Zion's Narrows, Part II: A Guide Noir Perspective

It was a cold, dark day in a canyon that knows how to keep its secrets. . . . But from the confines of an antique Lazy Daze RV, one man tries to find answers to life's persistent questions... Guide Noir, Explorer Man.

Wading Into 46 Degrees and A Sea Of Estrogen, All The Way To Zion's Narrows

Five gals and little ole me took a wade yesterday, and guess who was the only one to fall in, dunk a camera, and get cold? Lordy…I've met my match.

Neither Rain nor Snow nor Darkness of Skies

It takes more than a cold, foreboding day to stymie hardy hikers. After an all night rain, we feared the clay gumbo around these parts might be too slick or sticky. But the soil was apparently thirsty enough to assimilate the moisture and was only lightly dampened, which aided traction, something we were going to need where we were headed.

Wandering All Alone In Zion's Outer Perimeters

The Rv Gang enjoyed a great group hike in the Chinle/Coal Pits portion of Zion yesterday; had it all to our lonesome selves. From left to right: Gayle, John, Ellen, Bobbie, Laurelee, Debbie, Suzanne, Jim (or at least half of him), and Lynne. I'm seldom in my photos, so you'll have to go to the individual Gang's blogs to see your's truly. Conspicuously AWOL is Boonie, who refuses to set foot in a National Park, even when assured that there will be no one else around.

Many Pools and Beyond: Part II…Feeding The Inner Caveman

Weather in canyons, over time, expose sedimentary layers formed long, long ago—thousands of millenniums—back when mankind was but a gleam in God's eye. Those colorful bands hold amazing stories to those who know how to speak and read Geology, which, unfortunately, I do not. But one doesn't need to know how things came about in order to appreciate their existence, any more than one needs to know the principles of internal combustion in order to drive a car. I may not be able to grasp the precise science—the geological "handwriting" on the walls, so to speak—of all the slot canyons we clamber through, but I do recognized and appreciate grace and grandeur when I see it, particularly when it's swirled with colors that dazzle the senses... grooved and smoothed and polished by Father Time into a work of art.

"Many Pools" and Beyond, and Murder By Death In An Airbrushed National Postcard

On the heels of a solo mountain bike ascent up The Flying Monkey, on a day when the mercury topped out over 80, I was ready for a casual day, maybe take a little stroll up one of Zion's nameless canyons and photograph some blushing maples. I'm seeing a lot of red lately—rocks, canyons, leaves. Nothing like Nature in a little red dress to get one excited. Off we go, rubber legs and all.