Backpacking Escalante Canyonlands

I want to tell you about a trip that changed me. A backpacking trip in southern Utah. After a few long days of travel through the desert of southern California and Nevada, we found ourselves in the small town of Escalante, Utah. I had planned out weeks in advance that we were to hike Coyote Gulch, a small tributary to the Escalante river, which ultimately flows into the Colorado. A local rancher waved to us from his truck as we turned off onto the dirt road that took us to the trailhead. 30 miles down the dusty, bumpy “hole in the rock” road we arrived at the trailhead.

It was a beautiful April day in the Utah desert, in the high 60s with a cool breeze. A contrast to the summer days that can reach well into the 100s. We packed our supplies and started off down the poorly marked path.The trail quickly dropped off into a large dusty wash. The solid slickrock desert clearly cut by the forces of water. From here the trail was easy to follow- just stay in the canyon

Inside the wash, the breeze disappeared and we stayed in the shadow of the walls to stay cool. After walking for several minutes, the first shrubby cottonwood trees began to appear. Their brilliant green spring foliage was in contrast with the red canyon walls. 

As we continued deeper into the canyon, the walls began to grow taller and the cottonwood trees larger. The dry, dusty desert above seemingly a different world entirely. We soon discovered what we had suspected to appear- a trickle of water flowing ahead of us- practically beckoning us to go further into the gulch.

The trickle slowly grew into a small stream, and then a full stream. We found ourselves crossing the water so often that we decided to walk barefoot. The cool, ankle deep water and soft sand felt good to walk in. 

After hiking for several miles, the canyon walls had become even more dramatic. They towered hundreds of feet above us. Seasonal waterfalls had carved out notches in the rim above. It is astonishing the extent to which the ephemeral water has shaped the landscape here. We found a quiet alcove to set up camp.

The next morning, the light played off the canyon walls creating brilliant and colorful patterns in the sand of the stream.

We continued into the canyon. The walls now not only tall, but leaning inwards, having had their bottom portions eroded away by the increasingly powerful stream.

We walked through the winding canyon, finding new sights after every turn. Around this turn, we found one of the most awe inspiring natural features I have seen: a towering, massive natural arch. We stayed for what seemed like hours, taking photos and absorbing this natural wonder. The clouds passed over quickly above, dropping the occasional rain drops.

The curves of the canyon walls and the contrast in color kept becoming more dramatic as we continued on.

Soon, the canyon opened up to its widest point. The stream widened and flowed softly through a grove of the most verdant cottonwoods. The sand under the stream was warm and felt incredible to walk in. It gave just a little under the weight of our feet, enough to cushion but not enough to make it hard to walk. It was here that we encountered a group of mule deer. They looked us over briefly before bounding away into the brush. At this point I realized that this was an area a group of humans could easily spend their lives in. A suspicion that was later confirmed.

We ran into a small family heading in the opposite direction. They had emerged from a side canyon grinning. They told us about a hidden swimming hole just a few dozen yards away. We decided to take our lunch break and check it out. After making our way through tangled scrub oak and carefully avoiding poison ivy, we found ourselves in a giant sandstone amphitheater. At the bottom was a still, deep and peaceful pool surrounded by ferns. It was perfect. We admired the sight but decided it was too cold to go for a swim that day. One day, I will come back to this very spot and dive in!

After we came back out, a passing group pointed out a trail leading to an elevated alcove above the canyon floor. They said there were old native American artifacts and paintings at the top. We scrambled up the trail and found the alcove, shaded from the sun and with a great view of the canyon below. There were several stone rings and fire pits. There was even fragments of baskets and pottery shards. Most incredible to me were the intact corn cobs, wow! 

It’s easy to imagine people living their whole lives in a place like this. An oasis in the desert with everything you could need.

The next morning we set off back towards the car, walking under the Coyote natural bridge. The effort of the previous two days had started to catch up with me, and walking without ankle support with a 50lb pack was starting to take a toll on my ankles.

We stopped for a moment at this small waterfall to rest our aching bodies and take a few photos. This one turned out to be one of my all time favorites.

After hours of hiking, the canyon walls grew shorter again, and the cottonwoods disappeared. We were back out in the desert. We slowly trudged through the gravely wash and up to the trailhead. Ominous clouds were moving in and a cold wind started blowing as we approached the car. I looked back over the canyon lands we were about to leave. The clouds cast shadows across the slickrock, slowly moving sheets of light across the curves of the landscape. I watched exhausted, the wind blowing strongly across my sweat soaked back, chilling me to the bone. It was an emotional moment, though for reasons I may not be able to articulate.

We drove back into town in near silence, exhausted and hungry. The clouds closed in over the mountains to the west, while shafts of light came through accentuating the ranges in the distance. As we approached town, a soft snow began to fall. I wondered what it would be like back in the canyon in the snowfall. Would it be harsh and cold? Would we freeze and starve in isolation? Or would the canyon provide shelter from the elements? Would it block the winds and provide water and food? There were once people here who had all they needed: the land and each other.