Leaving Colorado behind, I retraced the route I had initially taken through Utah on my way to the Overland Expo. I was back in the arid land of red sandstone. Hot days and chilly nights were on queue for the next week. To my dismay, my time in Utah was during peak tourist season. This, combined with a large amount of rain the area received while I was there, would shape my short time in the state.
In light of the hordes of people I encountered at Arches and Zion National Parks, the rain in Vermilion Cliffs and Grand Staircase Escalante, and the hail/rain combination at Bryce National Park, I did manage to find a few memorable experiences and insights which I will tell you about. Should you choose to visit the National Parks in Utah, you can find plenty on them online as they are major tourist attractions.
Off-Roading In Utah
Of all places in the United States, southeastern Utah is the place to go off-roading because the terrain is accessible and technical at the same time. You may think vehicles and boulders are not compatible, but people take pride in their ability to rock crawl. Just about every vehicle you see has a winch, monster tires, off-road suspensions, and extra lift. If the vehicle isn't equipped for off-roading, it's probably towing an ATV, or a few ATVs along.
In the spirit of having an off-roading adventure, I decided to have one of my own. Actually, it was a moment of curiosity that turned into a six hour ordeal which I would like to never repeat while alone in the Utah desert. Thankfully, everything turned out mostly ok and I live to tell you about it.
One morning, I decided to visit Bryce National Park. The morning was overcast and by the time I entered the park, it had started to rain. It was a heavy rain replete with lightning and thunder. Trying to heed the dire warnings of not hiking along the canyon rim during a lightning storm, I decided to leave the park and find a place to camp for the night.
About 15 minutes outside the park, there was some public land with nicely graveled roads. To my delight, the roads were some of the nicest graveled roads I'd driven on in a while. It didn't take me long to find several suitable places to camp and I was about to head back to the park when I spotted a brown sign with a pair of binoculars on it. This sign generally indicates a scenic overlook, or a viewpoint, or something of the sort. Encouraged by the well groomed road, I decided I'd go check it out.
At the end of that particular road, I found a sign. This sign said there was a canyon about two miles up the road. I figured that is what the binoculars had been referring to. Two miles didn't seem too bad and I had a rough map of the area with me, so on I went.
The canyon walls look nice enough...
The scenery was incredible. I was snaking along some rough roads while surrounded by forest and plateaus. It was a single track road with no wiggle room or turnouts and I wondered what would happen if someone happened to come the other way. But, there was no one else. Just me in a canyon two miles up the road.
The map said the road ahead would join the main paved road about in about five miles. Having successfully put about three challenging miles behind me, I felt confident I'd be able to cross another five miles and still make good time driving as slow and cautiously as I'd driven the first three. After all, I wanted to go back to the park in case the storm broke.
This one was super easy
I hadn't consciously noticed the severity of the change in terrain until the truck bottomed out a few times. After a while, I stopped counting how many times I bottomed out, how many small streams I'd crossed, and how many steep inclines and descents I'd gotten over. My desire to join the main road only grew as the miles progressed.
Finally! I made it to the fork in the road which I had believed would take me to the main road. But, the road was fenced off. On second look, it turned out the road I wanted to take was only for vehicles less than 50 inches wide, essentially an ATV trail only. My excitement quickly turned to dismay, but the sun was starting to come out and I felt hopeful. I mustered up another bout of patience and energy. I had no other choice but to continue along.
Ten miles into this adventure and I encountered two elderly couples having lunch at an overlook. I stopped to ask them for directions which turned out to be a godsend because they were fairly familiar with the area and had a detailed map of the roads with them. They told me that the road I was on would eventually become a dead end and that I should return to the ATV trail with a width restriction. From there I could choose to return the way I had come or go down a different road. The women told me I should go back the way I came because it would be easier, but that they couldn't remember exactly what the conditions of the road going the other way were like.
When I came to the ATV trail, I decided to take the other road. In hindsight, I probably should have gone back the way I came, but at the time, the thought of going back the way I'd come was not an option. There was no way I was going back over the most difficult terrain I'd ever driven on up to that point. All I could hope was that the other road would be easier, and there's nothing wrong with exploring new places...I only had about eleven more miles to go.
Eleven miles doesn't sound like a long drive, and usually it isn't. However, the terrain had been such that I felt like I was cruising at any speed over 15 mph. Often, I was inching along at about 5-10 mph. To say the road was "uneven" would be a sick understatement. I spent most of my time avoiding rocks which would have gutted the underside of my old Honda Civic, praying that I wouldn't bottom out too hard because I knew I would, and over and over overcoming the panic when I ran into the next insane obstacle.
My energy was getting worn down by the constant adrenaline and stress of the situation, and part of me feared I wouldn't be able to make it out. There was no easy, no break. Everything was like a puzzle to be solved. There were several times when my patience broke and I'd do something reckless. However, those moments were brief as the reality of truck versus rock hit home extremely fast. I found the fear of damaging my vehicle beyond repair to be quite motivating to "get it together".
...Cross a ditch while turning sharply to the left on a steep incline. Make sure to hit the turn just right or the right wheel will fall into the stream running below. Make sure to make the turn with enough speed so the truck doesn't get stuck in the mud. Remember to gently apply the breaks after clearing the ditch so that the truck doesn't bottom out coming over the other side..
Then came the ditch from hell and I knew there was a high chance it would do me in. I was coming down a slope and I saw it. The ditch was in a v-shaped valley between the hill I was descending and the hill on the other side. The problem was that I could see the ditch was deeper than my wheels and too narrow to accommodate the length of the vehicle. The approach angle was to severe, I'd even jumped out of the truck to take a closer look. It was muddy and looked unstable.
On the horizon, I could see dark clouds overtaking the blue sky. I knew the rain was coming and that thought alone reminded me I needed to make haste. Rain plus Utah dirt makes for really bad mud and I'd already slid through some and could not imagine how much more trouble I'd be in if the trail completely turned to mud.
I had to try. There was no one else out there and pending rain. Fuck. I'd lowered the vehicle in the ditch only to find myself staring at the bottom of the ditch from the driver seat suspended by my seat belt like in a roller coaster. I tried rocking the car to get some traction, but nothing. The car was stuck and wouldn't move in either forward or reverse. I put the car into 4-wheel-drive low, nothing. I put the car into 4-wheel-high and I hit the gas. The wheels spun, but I could feel the car getting traction. Activating some other neat off-roading features of the truck and a bit of maneuvering, I felt the wheels get a moment of traction and hit the gas a little too hard in my excitement. The truck lurched forward so hard it bottomed out with a metal screech, but at least it was on the other side. I got out and checked the underbody, no damage.
The funniest part of the day was that a few minutes after the ordeal just described, Yin calls me (I'm not sure how I had reception for that brief moment to receive a call), but I picked up. She wanted to know how my day was going and to chat. I told her I'd call her back and that I was having a hard time.
A world of fortune must have found me that day because it started to pour just as I reached a graveled road behind an airport strip. I'd made it. It was about 4pm and I'd made it twenty miles in six hours. I called Yin back to chat. After that, I went back to Bryce and hiked around until I was assaulted by hail and decided I was done with damaging my vehicle for the day and left.
Bryce Canyon NP
In the aftermath, I only broke the trailer light hookup. The piece was completely crushed and I had bent the metal bracket that held it in half. Toyota quoted me $350 to fix it because they don't sell the metal bracket separately. Any ideas on how to fix this for cheaper? I also learned that the higher the road number is on forest service land, the worse/more technical the road is. So, I'll be avoiding the four digit roads from now on and even the three digit ones if I can. Other than that, I am grateful things turned out as well as they did and for the friends who patiently listened to me vent about the stressful day I had.
