The Juice Is Worth It: Hiking the Hayduke Trail

Hanksville to Escalante – 120 miles

You know it’s time to leave Hanksville when you’ve already had three shakes at Stan’s, the city’s popular burger and shake stop. It turns out that Stan’s is not only the place to satisfy your hunger, but it’s also the perfect place to find a way back on the trail. As we prepared to leave, we met a girl called Missy who had walked the Hayduke a few years earlier and was happy to talk to us about the next section. She kept saying that it would be a very difficult stretch, but that we were going to love it.

Missy was heading in the opposite direction of where we needed to go, but offered to take us back to our starting point anyway. Turns out she’s a national park ranger and we had a lot to talk about while she works in Alaska in Glacier Bay and Denali. We exchanged contact information so we could stay in touch and we left, disappearing into the Colorado Plateau once again.

Back on the trail, we began our climb toward the Henry Mountains. We reached a small water source and set up camp, knowing that the push to the summit awaited us in the morning.

There’s something satisfying about starting the day with a climb before the sun starts to set. But he didn’t waste time. He was straight up, completely exposed and without a single recoil to soften the blow.

As we turned a corner, we were surprised to see Craig and Andy, fellow Haydukers who had passed us while we were in town devouring burgers and shakes. It felt good to reconnect. This time we exchanged Garmin contacts so we could stay in touch, even when our daily miles varied.

We crossed paths several times during the climb despite taking different routes. As we climbed a steep 4×4 track, they opted for a snow-covered path and ended up with a waist-deep hole. Different approaches, same effort, in the end everything equalized.

At the summit, we regrouped for lunch and talked about the next water source, three miles round trip off trail. Instead of following the suggested route, Lane proposed that we follow the edge and cross a stream directly to it. It worked. We cut unnecessary kilometers and avoid turning back.

Craig and Andy also decided to join us for the water fountain alternative. Once we gathered all the water we needed, we said goodbye to Craig and Andy, not sure if we would cross paths again.

The next morning, we woke up on the dirt road where we had camped and headed toward Swap Canyon in the cool morning air. The entrance was rumored to have a complicated descent with a single choke point. But at 5’9”, I walked through him easily and couldn’t help but think: Was that all?

The real challenge came later.

As the heat increased, we found ourselves navigating a maze of Chinle rock, searching for our next water source. When we got there, a faint but clear thread, we had already earned it.

Naturally, “we camel together.” Lane had no problem dropping two liters and I tried to do the same. Within minutes, I felt sick. When we got up to walk again, nausea hit us hard. I tried everything, breathing deeply, even having Lane hit my back to «burp» me, but nothing helped. In the end I vomited, not food, just excess water that my body couldn’t handle.

But we keep moving. Hayduke doesn’t care about your feelings.

Fortunately, the route along the canyon rim (following faint cow trails) offered a much-needed respite. Little by little, my body reset itself. The sickness faded, replaced again by that familiar awe, the kind that only comes after overcoming something difficult.

That night, we camped just outside the boundaries of Capitol Reef National Park, excited for what the next day would bring.

Over the next two days, we only saw three people, and all within the first stretch of Muley Twist Canyon. After that, nothing. Just silence, space, and the kind of loneliness that feels increasingly rare. It’s one of the reasons I love long-distance hiking: it takes effort to get to places like this.

Muley Twist was amazing. An ancient Mormon route, winding through deep sand and hairpin turns, it’s hard to imagine pulling wagons over terrain like that. And meanwhile, my legs were still destroyed from the climb up Mount Ellen. Each step sent a ripple through sore muscles that made me feel a little sick.

Still, Muley Twist is a must-see at Capitol Reef.

From there, we headed toward our first major alternative: the Halls Creek Narrows and Steven’s Canyon route.

Halls Creek had been on our radar, but Missy was strongly encouraging it and she was right. We had the entire canyon to ourselves, wandering through towering walls like children exploring something sacred. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel small in the best way.

Of course, we had to pay for it. Bush clearing and water crossings followed, overgrown, slow and less than ideal. But it all seemed worth it after we navigated our last water crossing and Lane asked, “Should we camp here?” I didn’t doubt it.

We set up right next to the slippery rock we would climb the next morning.

After a good night’s rest, we looked towards the Waterpocket Fold and began climbing straight up. Halfway up the climb, we both saw a hare running through a crack in the rock along our route, a strangely reassuring sign that we were on the right path.

The afternoon took us through Steven Canyon, navigating steep slabs of slippery rock. For the first time on the trail, I felt a little uncomfortable with the exhibit. But, as always, taking our time and navigating the terrain step by step keeps spirits high and the views endless.

That night we found a place to sleep under Steven’s Arch. Easily one of the most impressive days of the trip so far.

The next morning began with multiple crossings of the Escalante River before reaching a waterfall choke point at the confluence with Coyote Gulch. Not ideal with worn out, mud covered shoes, but others had done it before us. Slips, slides and a bit of trial and error, but we did it.

The rest of the day was pure enjoyment, wandering through the ravine, meeting people along the way. At one point, we passed a lone hiker splashing around in the water in Chacos, clearly having the time of his life.

Hours later, that same guy would end up giving us a push to Escalante.

Mark was the first to stop as we stuck our thumbs out along Hole-in-the-Rock Road. Within minutes, we were in his truck, beers from his cooler in hand, bouncing down the long dirt road into town. The conversation was easy, we even discovered that he had spent time working in Antarctica at Palmer Station.

He dropped us off at Escalante Outfitters, where we planned to stay a few nights, but that didn’t seem like the end of the conversation. We met up with him and his friend Bob (a local) again for pizza and beers on the patio. It was the perfect end to a long period, good food, great company and stories that continued to develop.

This section was tough, one of the hardest so far, but easily my favorite so far.

Missy was right.

The juice was worth it.