From Hoodoos to a blizzard: the most unexpected week at the Hayduke

Tropic, Utah to Kanab, Utah

After a night on the grass of our tent and a resupply in Tropic, Utah, we were ready to start hiking again. It turns out that it is easier to get out of the city vortex after a night in our tent than in a comfortable hotel bed. Up ahead was a national park that neither of us had visited, Bryce Canyon, and we were determined to properly experience it. While Hayduke’s official route bypasses the famous Bryce Voodoo Amphitheater to avoid the crowds, Lane and I have one rule: If we pass through a national park, we want to see its highlights.

At noon we entered the Tropic Trail and found ourselves surrounded by Bryce’s iconic voodoo trees. The towering orange and white spiers, carved by millions of years of erosion, made the landscape seem almost otherworldly. We had also entered the busiest part of the park, and it was impossible not to laugh at how out of place we seemed carrying full hiking backpacks among tourists armed with water bottles and cameras.

After climbing to the rim, we spent the afternoon enjoying all the luxuries a National Park can offer a hiker: exhibits at the visitor center, postcards, charging electronics at the lodge, and a proper meal with a couple of local beers. That night we walked a mile beyond the park boundary and legally camped in the woods with beers in hand.

The next morning we returned to the lodge for water and supplies before hitting the Below-the-Rim trail. Just before descending, we almost collided with our friend Grace, someone we hadn’t seen since we worked together in Antarctica. Neither of us knew the other was in Bryce. If we had left ten minutes later, we would have missed her completely. After a sidewalk meeting filled with snacks and stories, we continued into quieter country.

The crowd disappeared almost immediately. The Hoodoos gave way to forests and high desert terrain as we moved toward the park boundary, hoping to avoid the need for a backcountry camping permit. We reached the rim at dusk and woke up the next morning to one of the best sunrises on the entire trail.

From there we climbed toward Rainbow Point, Bryce’s highest elevation, before descending into cattle and ranch lands. A relentless headwind blew sand into our faces until Lane found a culvert big enough to hide in for lunch. Ahead of us was one of the highlights of Hayduke, Buckskin Gulch.

The night before entering Slot Canyon, we passed a pickup truck parked off the road and briefly wondered if it belonged to our friend Sara (trail name: Tidewalker), who was hoping to meet us somewhere along the route. We shrugged as there didn’t seem to be anyone inside and continued walking.

The next morning, hikers warned us of storms near Bryce that could create flash flooding danger in Buckskin Gulch. After checking the forecast, we decided that conditions seemed safe enough to continue. At first we had the canyon completely to ourselves, winding between towering sandstone walls just a few meters away. We finally figured out why no one else was around: there was a deep mud pit blocking the canyon floor. Someone in front of us had already lost a shoe.

Not wanting to sacrifice our socks, we took them off and walked through the mud pit in our Crocs. Minutes later, someone jumped out from behind a rock and scared Lane to death. It was our friend Sara.

The mysterious van had been his all along. He had tried to surprise us the night before but he didn’t see us pass. Suddenly we were standing in the middle of Buckskin Gulch hugging a friend we hadn’t seen in years since we worked together for the Appalachian Trail in Virginia.

The three of us continued together through the canyon before exiting over Wire Pass. At the trailhead, Sara invited us to enjoy the magic of the trail and have lunch at Stateline Campground, the northern end of the Arizona Trail, which Lane and I had hiked years before. Between bagels, cheese, and some Models, he spread maps of the Grand Canyon on the picnic table and shared stories from his own hike through Hayduke. Listening to her made the canyon in front of him seem exciting and intimidating.

The next day we climbed towards the Kaibab Plateau under a darkening sky. The rain quickly turned to sleet and then snow as temperatures dropped. By nightfall, the storm had turned into a small blizzard.

We woke up to several inches of snow covering the tent. It was too cold to stay there, but fortunately it was also a city day. The last time we crossed the Kaibab Plateau during our Arizona Trail hike we were also soaked and freezing. Apparently the plateau just doesn’t like us.

Still, we kept moving. Finally, Sara’s van appeared on a lonely dirt road at the end of the stretch. We threw our backpacks inside and climbed after them, exhausted, frozen, and already dreaming of hot food and a warm hotel room.

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