From the Editor: Thanks for sticking with it. Sorry, but this is the last page!
Some years it's altitude. Some years it's patience. This year it was remoteness. The best test of our backpacking will was our 3.5 mile hike into Mule Canyon. This was our first experience with needing a backcountry permit. This new twist by the feds has two sides: yes, it's a hassle, but so much so that there aren't too many other people to run into. There is a use trail that follows the stream up into Mule Canyon. We spotted numerous Anasazi ruins and climbed up to see a few first hand. Respect keeps the ruins intact and is every bit as effective as the National Park system. Our camp was a hundred feet below one such ruin. While we saw a pair of dayhikers around 3:00, we were totally alone throughout the evening and night. Mother Nature provided us with a perfect night. By now, we were totally relaxed and unwound. The solitude and tranquility of our nation's great western wilderness had done its job. This is what vacations are supposed to be.
I had been reading The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey and had by now developed a healthy respect for Glen Canyon and the very land we were travelling through. Our next stop was the fancy resort called Wahweap situated on the flooded rim of Colonel Powell's favorite canyon, Glen Canyon. A sign at a gas station confirmed that 30+ years had not drowned the feelings Abbey captured. It read: Don't let the Sierra Club drain Lake Powell. Curious about Seldom Seen Smith's ultimate target, we couldn't pass up a free tour of the Glen Canon Dam. In terms of modern engineering, it was quite impressive.
We had hoped to hike into one of Arizona's famous slot canyons, but didn't want to follow the buses of tourists to Antelope Canyon. Instead, we drive 8 miles off road down a dirt "road" to Wire Pass. This slot canyon leads to Buckskin Gulch and ultimately to Paria Canyon. We signed in, read the thunderstorm warnings, hiked the 2 miles of gravel wash and entered the three foot wide opening to Wire Pass. Our timing was perfect; the best photos come when the sun is overhead. Unfortunately, a 12 foot boulder caused an overhanging dropoff that blocked our way about 300 yards into the canyon. Still, the rich, red walls were impressive.
We had one more encounter with the desert on our drive southwest from Page toward Sedona. The land is spotted with dwellings and hogans, including this one. The sign on the center post reads "Open", but there were no signs of life. The sad commentary on this way of life struck has stayed with me ever since.
Our final destination was Sedona. This New Age refuge offers stunning redrock beauty interspersed with enough yuppie SUVs to clog an LA freeway. It must have been a hell of a place 100 years ago when settlers braved the wilds to scratch out a living ranching cattle and growing wheat. It must have really been cool 900 years ago when the Ancestral Puebloans built rock houses on Sedona's redrock cliffs.
The semi-urban culture of Sedona provided a buffer between the wilderness of Mule Canyon and the rat race of home. This is where the strange energy of the New Agers contrasts with the beauty of the red rocks. Mother Nature did some of her best decorating here. We enjoyed a couple of the 101 omlets at the Coffee Pot Restaurant. We bought a Kokopelli mirror for the bathroom. We shopped the shops. We had ice cream. We sat quietly by a mountain stream. We watched the sunset from Airport Mesa. It was a great trip. Thanks for sharing it with us.
