1/13/23 - This was it, the reason for this road trip.
The day had come when I would hike to The Wave, an extraordinary geological feature in North Coyote Buttes of the Paria Canyon/Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness. I woke up before dawn and got ready in a state of excitement. My heart rate was faster than normal while I packed my things in the hotel room. I had trouble focusing on any one thing. I wolfed down a hearty breakfast in the hotel lobby and then walked towards my horse for the day: the 2022 Jeep Gladiator.
I had picked up the rented Jeep the night before from a local resident. He showed me how to shift the truck into four-wheel drive and gave me some advice regarding the road leading up to the trailhead, and how to find The Wave. The Bureau of Land Management includes a map with photos of landmarks to look out for along with the highlighter-pink permit when sent through the mail, but it is commonly dismissed by experienced hikers. He told me it isn't obvious as to where The Wave is. I told the guy I would be using GPS, which made him feel better. I hopped into the driver seat feeling as if I had just jumped into a tank. Not used to driving such a rugged vehicle, I gingerly drove it the three blocks to the hotel parking lot.
The Jeep was ready to go in the hotel parking lot in the morning, next to the Camry. I left Kanab when it was still dark, with a sliver of light and adventure on the horizon.
I reached Houserock Valley Road quicker than I anticipated. I began driving on this reddish dirt road during sunrise when pink streaked across the sky. The hills on the west side of the valley began to glow with early morning frigid January sunlight.
There was a rainstorm a few days before my arrival. The rain actually damaged this road, undercutting the shoulders and eroding other parts of the road. Some parts were a muddy, sloppy mess. Others were submerged in large puddles of water. And other parts of the road were rough and bumpy. There were dips through washes. No matter what I came across, the Jeep handled it comfortably. I never had to shift into four-wheel drive, but I'm glad I had this machine. The Camry would have been beaten up by this road.
I found a reasonably large dirt parking lot at the trailhead complete with bathrooms, informational signs and a register. I packed my backpack with everything I would need, put on my orange Caltrans jacket over my highlighter-green shirt that I had received as a Christmas gift, and walked to the register where I signed my name, permit number, what time I started and what car I drove. While I did this, a sedan pulled into the parking lot, driven by a young kid in his early 20s. He and his girlfriend got out of the car, visibly shaken by the journey on that dirt road and wondering whether their car took damage. The guy shook his head saying, "never again." He and his girlfriend argued.
A permit is required to hike this trail. To get a permit, you must enter a lottery offered through the Bureau of Land Management. You can apply for up to three dates once a month and the lottery results are released on the first of the month. It costs $9 to enter the lottery. If you win the lottery, then you need to actually apply for the permit which costs $7. It then takes a month and a half for the BLM to mail the permit to you. Along with the permit, the BLM includes a map complete with landmarks to help you orient yourself, GPS coordinates, information on heat stroke and exhaustion, and an invitation to attend an orientation at a BLM office the day before the hike in Page or Kanab.
The trail began with a 15-minute walk that followed the curve of a wide wash. Eventually I exited the wash via a trail on the south side that led over a hill, and the sandy path began to turn towards the south. There was no established, official trail on the way to The Wave. Hikers must be in decent shape, be able to scramble up and over rock, and be skilled in navigation.
In the first mile or so of the hike, there were a couple of metal posts spread a few hundred feet apart indicating a hiker is headed in the correct direction. But they suddenly stop appearing. You're then left to your own devices in wilderness, surrounded by mind-blowing geology. It's easy to get lost. I sure did a couple of times. Before departing on the road trip, I downloaded a hiking app called Gaia. This app allows you to download trail maps for offline use. While on the trail, you can open a topographical map and see where you are in relation to the route. This map was immensely helpful to me a couple of times, especially in the moments when I was distracted by some weird formation I had never seen before.
During one such time while I was finding my way back to the proper route, I found myself walking through an icy wash. My foot foot broke through ice and I felt cold water. Great.
Farther along, I spotted a pair of bighorn sheep high up on one of the formations. I watched them while they eyed me. Unfortunately, the bighorns and I could hear the young arguing couple approaching from behind, chattering in loud voices, so the sheep disappeared from view before the young couple could see them.
I also briefly chatted with a small group of hikers being guided by a young woman who lived in Kanab. She gave me some good advice about how to get myself oriented to an unfamiliar landscape, so I could find my way back to the trailhead. She also made an approving comment about my bright, eye-watering colors, noting with a smile that she could definitely see me from far away.
While the vast majority of the hike was over solid orange-red sandstone, there were stretches filled with sand littered with footprints. However, these footprints were everywhere. One lesson I certainly learned on this day and something I had heard before: do not follow footprints while in wilderness. This will get you lost, as I did a couple of times. Once was halfway along the trail when I got way off track, going too far west. The other was actually very close to The Wave, in a sandy wash that led me into a shady, icy bottleneck that was impossible to pass. I had to retrace my steps. Instead of following the wash, I had to climb more rock above the wash.
Since this was January in the middle of winter in the high desert, climbing this sandstone could get tricky quickly because of the combination of snow, ice and sand sitting on the rock. Traction could disappear in a hurry. Thank goodness for trekking poles! The phrase "easy does it" was never more true than on this day, Friday the 13th.
I noticed a couple of spots that looked like a large splotch of paint, like a supernova. These places made me wonder if something at some point in time disturbed these harmonious layers, creating a disturbance in the pattern. I struggled to comprehend it.
But I very much enjoyed trying.
Inside The Wave, I chatted to a group of older hikers who told me they had been waiting 12 years to win a permit for this hike! Another group said they had waited a year. I sheepishly told them I had only waited three months. I told them perhaps I got so lucky because I applied for Friday the 13th. I wondered if fewer people entered the lottery due to superstition.
After taking photos in the bright mid-day sunlight, I decided to take a rest and have some lunch. I chose a perch above The Wave in the shade. Here I observed a young family led by an in-charge mother who assertively marshalled each of the children and her husband, a thin man who looked relieved that he didn't have to be in control of the situation. There was another group of younger hikers. It seemed that most people took a higher perch to keep out of the way of the main formation. However, there was one guy who flew his drone above the formation, making a lot of noise that cut the silence and stillness of the area.
There are other features around The Wave. The geology in this area is stunning. To see other things, you have to climb a steep hill. With The Wave at an elevation above 5,000 feet, the land above it became more icy and snowy. I was pleased with the little amount of snow coverage inside the formation, but I was a little wary of seeing snow on the steep slopes that led to other formations in the area, like an arch (which can actually be seen at the top of the hill in the photo at the beginning of this post, and the top right corner in the below image).
That doesn't mean I didn't try to hike to the top of that hill. But after a certain point, I reminded myself that I was hiking alone and it wasn't worth taking big risks in that situation. Live to return another day. The formations won't go anywhere.
While I was exploring this formation and the surrounding area, I noticed that there was a lack of energy like what I felt in Monument Valley. The Wave is an incredible natural phenomenon, but it didn't have the same impact on me like what I experienced in the Navajo Nation. It was slightly underwhelming. "Disappointing" popped into my head. I had been waiting for this day for years. My expectations and fantasies hadn't matched reality. Or, perhaps it was because I had reached the end of a long road; I had accomplished an important goal and was having the familiar empty feeling of "now what?"
Having said that, this place was photography heaven, a landscape photographer or geologist's wet dream. I cursed a few times after seeing what kind of images I had produced from the site. The sandstone really does look like a wave. The long, sweeping curves are pleasing to the eye. I saw how bright and vibrant the colors of each layer are. I saw red, orange, yellow, pink, green, white. I was even treated to some soft, gentle light when a high, thin layer of cirrus clouds move in during the afternoon and muted the harshness of the sunlight.
In the early afternoon, people began to filter out to hike back to the trailhead. I found myself alone within the formation. I heard nothing but buzzing in my ears from dead silence. I took this opportunity to photograph more and to savor my last opportunity in the area. I found it slightly difficult to start the journey back to the trailhead because I had spent so much time and effort preparing for this day, and I knew it would be a long time before I would possibly return.
But it had to be done. I was satisfied with the 500-plus images I captured with the Nikon D3500. As I stepped towards the exit of The Wave, I encountered a pair of hikers with their friendly black dogs. I told them they would have it all to themselves and that they had some great light to enjoy. Sometimes a late start isn't so bad after all.
On the hike back to the trailhead, landmarks looked relatively familiar to me and I only took one route which wasn't correct. It was almost a relief to return to the trailhead where I could take off my hiking boots and relieve myself of the backpack. Before I could sign myself out from the register, a park ranger asked me if my name was Michael. I confirmed, and he said he had already signed me out, and then we had a chat about the hike, the conditions, and whether I was able to see any of the other features.
Back in the Jeep, I gingerly began the drive back to Kanab, stopping briefly at the trailhead for Buckskin Gulch which is the longest slot canyon in the country. Hikers must acquire a permit for this trail as well.
The hike properly wore me out. My knees and ankles were sore in particular. So, I took a few hours to rest in my hotel in Kanab. Hunger began to call, so I gingerly walked down the street to a vegetarian restaurant where I treated myself to pizza and beer. I sat near a professional, vibrant photo of The Wave in which the sky was electric blue and the rock was properly orange.
Now I had my own images of The Wave.
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