In the morning my drive starts along Highway 12. There’s mention of it in 2 or 3 of my National Park books, says it’s supposed to be good one. Passed Boulder, UT it follows a ridge not much wider than the road itself aptly named The Devil’s Backbone. The road stretches to a vanishing point on the horizon in both directions. On either side it’s all solid rock as far as I can see except the furry green serpent of vegetation slithering it’s way through the bottom of a nearby valley...must be a creek.
Derek, back at The Patio, had mentioned to me something about Calf Creek Falls. The details are a bit fuzzy but I remember the name, and something about 3 miles, and a campground. Circumstances are such that….I ain’t got nowheres to be, so I figure I’ll see if I can find it. Turns out pretty easy, I’m just cruising highway 12, taking in the sights when I come upon Calf Creek Campground…..(that’s hard to say)…..but as I pull in I seem to remember something about a trail all the way in the back. There ARE campers in the place but it’s not crowded by any means. We really are in the middle of nowhere out here.
No one hassles me as I drive through and find a parking area and a trail. I follow a sandy footpath worn through the knee high grass three miles back into a shallow canyon. It’s a warm sunny day, it’s quiet and peaceful, birds singing…it’s a damn Disney cartoon.
I can hear it before I see it.....The canyon dead ends at a rock wall that’s obscured by a few taller trees. Up above them I can see a stream pouring over the precipice and disappearing behind the treetops. I hike underneath them, through to the other side and there it is,127 feet high, Calf Creek Falls. Pretty incredible, at the back of a canyon in the middle of no where. As I approach it seems as if the waterfall is creating it’s own breeze back here, it’s much cooler. I sweat my ass off the entire hike here and now it’s almost cold. The water is arctic which is disappointing, I was looking forward to a swim, wash myself off a bit but I can’t bring myself to do it. The water's just too damn cold, so I do my best to wash off with an old shirt I dunk in the frigid water.
Once I’m clean…..well, clean-ER anyways, I feel much better and think, I never would have known about this place, let alone stopped for a look, if I hadn't chatted with Derek. Just a friendly stranger, and I realize I’ve already met my fair share of friendly strangers already. It’s actually been happening much more often than I would have thought. There was Laundry Matt back in Roswell, the guy that gave me half his sandwich at the Grand Canyon, Michelle at Ghost Ranch, and now Derek at The Patio. It puts a little bit of hope back in humanity for me, and renews the spirit. In just the past few days I’ve received three different calls from old friends that have been reading the first few posts I’ve made about the beginning of my trip, and just that little bit of encouragement, the slightest bit of positive feedback gives me new life, makes me want to write more. As much as I want it to not matter if people take notice, it still feels really good when they do. Plus, through one of these calls I get word of some newly acquired land in Montana that a group of friends will be camping on in a few weeks. I mark it on my calendar. Every so often, the stars align out here and I get one of those near perfect days….today was one of them.
I pull into Bryce Canyon National Park under a bleak, grey sky which unleashes a fierce and persistent drizzle the second I enter the visitors center, it also happens to be my 31st birthday. Here on the rim of the canyon, around 9,000 feet above sea level, it’s in the mid 40’s. I roam around the visitors center collecting maps and information packets to discover what there is to see in the park. When I’ve fully explored the visitors center (Bryce Canyon has a pretty good sized one….That’s what she said) I emerge to find a steady mist still thickens the air and an endless grey sky shows no signs of departing anytime soon; so I decide to cruise thru the park, getting the lay of the land. It’s a good way to get the feel for a new park, especially when it's this shitty outside. The main park road is 18 miles long and I drive it’s entire length, stopping at a few roadside overlooks along the way. The main attraction here seems to be the rock formations, tall rock pillars that reach up from the canyon floor. And the fuckers are everywhere, stretching from one canyon wall to the next. The Indians that once lived in the canyons called them Hoodoo’s or “Legend People”, believed to be turned to stone by a coyote god. Another awe inspiring example of what the earth can do, and another sight that is different from anything I've ever seen. Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait to do any real exploring because of the rain, but it’s not a total birthday loss. I picked up a package from my parents at the local post office. Some cookie and candy treats raise my spirits, but what really gets the blood pumping is the gift card with instructions to spend it on a load of groceries and a nice birthday dinner! Hell yeah, an actual meal sounds like heaven. Most of what I’ve been eating has been canned, powdered, freeze dried anything that doesn't need refrigeration. I’ve got a cooler in the jeep but maintaining ice levels has become a nuisance, so anything frozen I buy has to be eaten or cooked almost right away. The prospect of a real meal, that I don’t have to cook myself, that I actually get to eat inside, has me giddy and I'm able to exploit the gift to the fullest at Ruby’s Inn….I opt for the Cowboy Buffett.
It’s glorious, everything you could imagine, and I attempt to try it all. Being on a tight budget, I’ve been trying to eat less, stretch my food as far as it will go. Not today my friends….today, I gorge. I probably would have eaten even more than I do, but around my 3rd or 4th plate, I’m so full that the threat of vomiting is very real. I actually have take a moment to concentrate on my breathing there in the booth, to keep all the food down.
I escape with the contents of my stomach still in place, and call it a pretty successful birthday. The weather was pretty crummy, but I’m not completely miserable with my life now, which is a positive change. I’m doing something I enjoy and while not every single day is exciting, sometimes not even very pleasant, it’s still lightyears ahead of working job I hate, leading a nothing existence.
I have reason to believe that I’m learning about myself too….or at least trying to get a clearer picture anyway. I’ve always craved a nomadic kinda life, always on the move seeing new things. But now after nearly 3 months on the road I’m beginning to think I may need and HQ of sorts. Nothing fancy just somewhere that’s mine, somewhere comfortable, where I can recoup from all the constant movement. I drift off to thoughts of tiny houses near the ocean and that it was a decent birthday. So here’s to me and my 31 years. In my early 20’s I always used to joke that I wouldn't make it to 30. Then that became no fuckin' joke when I was 26, so I mean it when I say I never thought I’d make it this far. Let's celebrate that I did, make the next year a good one, and concentrate on being happy for the rest of em, because you never know how many, or how few, you might have left.
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