A Day in Zion

We woke to weather. It was tipping it down. We unanimously agreed that we could afford to sleep on. We threw the heater back on after having it off and cold overnight and got some more kip in. I had to bail eventually due to the heat and sat outside on a little bench by the window, watching the rain come down and pretending to read a little.

Eventually, we got up and were ready to face the world. Breakfast was not included in our stay so we went to the restaurant across the car park as advised by reception. They had peach pancakes as their special so I ordered a "short stack". The service was very slow and when it came, I wasn't all that impressed by the stodgy pancakes and cold peach slices. I also couldn't finish it and doubted that it really was as short as it could have been.

In the rain, we set off, first to the visitor centre nestled in a grove of autumnal trees. The leaves were all a perfect shade of yellow, off-set vibrantly from the red rock and green grass. From there we drove up the valley, following the Virgin River up the canyon.

The valley floor was lush due to the river and I found myself missing the insane rock formations that had made up the journey so far. It was great to see the autumn colours but somehow it seemed prosaic.

We took a short walk to the Temple of Sinawava which is as far up the valley as you can go without wading in the river up the narrows. We saw someone there who was returning from doing just that in normal trousers soaked to his waist. It seemed crazy to do that without waders.

The day was drizzly but we were still privy to some great views down the valley with the tall canyon sides narrowing the horizon. It faded into cloud in the far distance and was frustratingly difficult to photograph in an interesting way and I was all in all disappointed at the place after where we had been. I knew, however, that the great thing about Zion was its hiking but given the weather, neither of us felt it wise to do anything more than amble on the walks in the valley.

After the riverside walk, we took the trail to Emerald Pools, lower and upper. This walk had a little more to it in terms of elevation but not by much. It offered more views of the valley and a walk under a small waterfall (in the spring, it would have been more dramatic). I especially liked the upper pool where skit went off scrambling for a good view and I just sat amongst the fallen leaves enjoying the season.

Our final jaunt in the valley was to go to the Weeping Rock where the near-constant supply of water from the permeable rocks is forced out on meeting an impermeable layer. The rock face is described as having Hanging Gardens due to the plant-life that clings to it. It was here that my camera's battery life dropped to 1/3.

As was our way, we polished off the daylight with an effort to get a good sunset. We went back on the road, out of the valley and through the mile-long tunnel to the Canyon Overloook trail. With perfect timing, as demonstrated on nearly every day of our road-trip, we made it up to the trailhead with just half an hour or so before sunset. The trail was above the canyon, as the name implies, and above the verdant vegetation, back in the realm of sandstone rocks carved in interesting ways. I felt at home.

We walked the trail, pausing along the way for skit to take photos of another group for them, to the canyon overlook point. We were just in time for sunset. Our trip had made us fairly immune to heights by this point and the view of the valley was only so-so, marred of course by the cloudy weather and poor visibility. The sunset was pretty muted. However, it was a great spot for this poor girl who missed the rocks of the previous places and enjoyed the barren landscape that felt so inhospitable.

Inhospitable to humans, that is, as fellow sunset watchers pointed out to us mountain goats in the distance. It was hard to make out the little white specks as goats until the started to move. Seemingly sheer cliff faces were no trouble for them.

The twilight crept in and so we returned to the car before the light faded too much. We returned to the hotel. I informed reception that we intended to cut short our stay at Zion in favour of a trip to Death Valley. Our spirits had been partially dampened by the weather, the lack of heating in the room and dearth of wifi but above all we had been spoilt by our success in the trip so far at discovering new places. Zion has a few decent trails for hiking and we could have stayed for the three days I planned doing them all but our itchy feet got the better of us.

We went back to the Spotted Dog that evening. It was such a huge success the night before that we actually were very happy to make a return visit. This time we had to wait for a table as we arrived earlier, during a busier part of the evening. The fact we arrived earlier didn't actually change us being almost the last to leave again.

This time, skit went slightly crazy and ordered vast quantities of food. All I could do was look on in awe as I struggled with my pasta mains and sorbet dessert. The chocolate cake looked set to defeat her but she conquered it magnificently.

After our success with the Petite Syrah from California the night before, we felt somewhat confident in the quality of the wine list and opted for a Utah wine on the basis that if the restaurant was willing to serve it, it couldn't have been bad. And who knows, maybe it was a well kept secret how great the wines were in this dry state.

I'm no wine expert, but I am pretty sure red wine isn't meant to fizz. Well, it didn't exactly fizz but that is the nearest I can come to describing the sensation of the wine on my tongue. There was an effervescent bite to it that I have never experienced with wine before. Had I not known that that was not how wine was meant to be, I wouldn't have said it was necessarily a bad quality though. It didn't really matter that it felt strange and to claim otherwise would be an act of snobbery (which is of course what wine is all about). However, this was clearly not the success of the night before.

It was a second enjoyable night at the Spotted Dog though and we yet again skipped on the roadside back to our hotel in high spirits. We were aware that the next day was predicted to bring sunshine and we were looking forward to seeing Zion in full glory.

Bryce to Zion

When we awoke, I clambered to the window to see this "view" the receptionist promised us.

It was white.

Snow had fallen overnight and was still falling. I looked out and saw a road not too far away, blanketed with snow. No mere side-road, this was the route we would need to take going west many miles. As I watched I saw a car carefully driving on the road demonstrating that it was possible though maybe not easy.

We went down to breakfast and there was a sense of magic in the air. There were children playing in the snow outside as we ate and everyone seemed relaxed. We took our time over breakfast, knowing that as the snow was still falling there wasn't any hurry to get out onto the road. Back in our room, we called parents and took advantage of the excellent wireless in our room one last time to watch the John Lewis advert that made Philip Schofield cry.

We bundled up and checked out, saying farewell to my favourite hotel of the trip with its lobby furniture carved from deer antlers including rocking chairs and book detailing the trek of a family across the United States (one chapter was called "Susannah's Sacrifice").

We paid our fee on entrance (actually we upgraded from paying individual fees to getting a annual pass for National Parks which made me feel like a very Proper Person) and drove to Bryce Point which was as far as they had cleared the roads. There were a few people at Bryce Point exclaiming at the view and trying not to slide on the path.

The snow had eased off and the snow clouds were beginning to clear. Regions of the amphitheatre were bathed in golden sun while others were still under cloud like a patchwork quilt. The sight was as awe-inspiring as the night before (though from a different viewpoint) and even more beautiful for the layer of snow on the tops of the hoodoos.

Skit and I made the obligatory shots of Bryce Canyon and then considered our next step. We had wanted to complete the "Peek-a-boo" trail in the amphitheatre but that was before the snowfall made casual-shoe hiking problematic. So we thought that we'd follow the trail down into the amphitheatre a little way to get the change in elevation and turn back as soon as the path became difficult.

Three hours later, we returned.

It turned out, the path was easy. Fresh snow with only a few footprints on it without any ice or deep drifts (except for the one by the side of the path where skit made a snow-angel) meant for good walking. We hiked down to the base of the amphitheatre in our usual slowed-by-taking-photographs way, gasping with each new view of the hoodoos. As great as the views were going down, it was the Peek-a-boo trail loop on the canyon floor that held the greatest surprises.

The elevation difference from Bryce point to the Peek-a-boo trail is about 800 feet/240 metres and on the trail there were fairly sheltered portions where the snow had not settled. By the time we made it down to the trail, the sun was properly out and beating upon us strongly. We both spent the hike slowing taking off layers and faffing with whether we need gloves or not.

The trail was aptly named for how with every turn, the surroundings surprised us. It was a trail of discovery as we walked through arches and found ourselves transported to new worlds. The hoodoos varied in size and shape. One turn found us in the midst of a hoodoo gathering, all in a vast semicircle in worship to the sky. Rocks rose up as spires and turrets or resided grandly as cathedrals. They extended forever as an insane Magic Eye of rock shapes. We both gasped with the beauty of the wall of windows.

The trail rolled up and down, keeping our hearts pumping nicely with the exertion but never being too difficult. Just perfect, in fact. We noted the number of footsteps in the snow and realised that we had the company of a handful of people on this trail including a couple with snow chains on their shoes. Fortunately our unchained shoes never failed us.

The walk was absolute perfection with one not-so-minor flaw: we didn't really intend to go on it. I brought no food or water with me. By the time we completed the trail, we were both somewhat regretting that and still had the 800 feet climb ahead of us. Back at the top, we felt like we both needed and deserved pie.

We went to the only restaurant open during the off-season and got a late lunch and followed that up with pie (cherry pie in my case). One trip to the gift shop later (where skit bought petrified wood) and we were on the road again.

By this point, the roads had cleared of snow and there were no concerns driving. Our destination was Zion National Park. We needed to back-track most of the journey we made the day before but it felt quicker to me this time and we were nearly at Zion when the sun set. The road took us through the park in order to get to the nearest settlement for accommodation and food: Springdale. It was a good road as all roads are in National Parks (it seems) and I enjoyed driving the tight bends up until the point where it grew too dark to see the exit of them. There was also a tunnel that was over a mile long. That was fun.

We got to our hotel, pre-booked, in the early evening. It was the same place I had stayed at about five years ago and loved it but since then it appeared to have invested no money in the place (no wifi and worse- the room had no heat). I complained about the heat situation and we got a noisy electric heater that made me feel sick when it was on but it was somewhat necessary as it was, though the warmest place we'd been to since Needles, quite cold.

After a rest in the hotel, we went out, arm in arm, on the hunt for dinner. We just walked down the road in the direction of the park and totally failed to find anywhere to eat for long enough that we were beginning to worry that we should have taken the car. But then the Spotted Dog Cafe appeared.

It was a good restaurant boldly proclaiming its wine cellar credentials. We spent ages mulling over our choice of wine and eventually got a Californian Syrah. The meals were great. I had a very creative pasta dish with pear and ricotta stuffed parcels. It was simply heaven. The meal was wonderfully enjoyable and we were in good spirits. Somehow we ended up as nearly the last ones there so we asked to take away the rest of the wine. The night before at Bryce, an old man tried to remove beer from the restaurant and was retained by the staff until he gave it up as it was illegal for him to do that according to the law in Utah. However, in the Spotted Dog Cafe it seemed to be acceptable.

We skipped back to the hotel slightly merry and warmed by the good food and wine. Well fortified, we settled down in our room to watch some Mad Men (nope, the Suitcase still depressed me) and Community.

It was a good day. Bryce was clearly the highlight of the roadtrip for me and the Spotted Dog Cafe was my favourite place we ate at in the south-west. Just brilliant.