La Reef de la Capitola - A Novel

For quite some time now I have been dying to visit Capitol Reef National Park. I have spent countless hours looking at it in maps, online, and in books. I have mentioned visiting this National wonder numerous times to Shayla, and dreamed up visions of where I would go and what I would see.

Apparently, all this talking and dreaming finally convinced Shayla that it was worth a visit as well. As chance would have it, I found myself with a couple of days off from work. Not wanting to let the days go to waste, I casually mentioned a visit to this remote location to Shayla. To my excitement, she casually agreed.

We set off on Wednesday afternoon, a long five hour drive ahead of us. Not wanting to put much to chance, I phoned the visitor's center shortly after we left. The ranger at the desk informed me that the campground at the park had over thirty vacant sites, and although they didn't accept reservations, the campground hadn't filled up for the past couple of nights and she all but guaranteed us a site.

After five hours of hard, gray pavement stretching from St. George, through Richfield, past Fish Lake and a number of small central Utah towns, with a stop in Beaver for a quick hamburger and a potty break, we pulled into the Capitol Reef Park. As we turned off onto the road to the campground, we noticed a white National Park truck pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. The ranger was outside, fumbling around with a sign. As we got closer, we made out the words that spelled out our fate, "Campground Full".

Of course we had to stop and get a verbal confirmation of our predicament from the Ranger. The sign didn't lie. He confirmed the campground's vacancy at none. Crap. Now we were stuck in a place neither of us had visited before, with no place to pitch our tent, two kids sick of driving, hunger stinging our bellies, and nightfall creeping up on us.

We did the only logical thing, we kept driving. The sign and the ranger had to be lying to us. There had to be at least one site left that had gone unnoticed. We stopped at the small park for an emergency baby feeding and potty break. A herd of young deer greeted us in the parking lot. Max and I got out to watch them for minute while Shayla fed Isla.

After a few minutes, Max and I walked across the lawn in search of a nice bush to water. Max had told me he had to pee, but he failed to mention how bad he had to pee. We got into the trees and bushes on the other side and as I began to pull his pants down, warm yellow liquid began streaming down his legs. "Oh please let this be lemonade or a melted Otter Pop that Max has been trying to hide from me!" Nope. It was pee. Steaming hot urine. Trickling down his legs, soaking into his socks, and splashing onto his shoes. I quickly pulled Max's shorts down the rest of the way and stuck him out as perpendicular to the ground as I could get him! No need to let anymore of the foul liquid find solace in his socks and shoes!

A few minutes later we were back with Shayla and few baby wipes later we were finally urine free! This trip was starting off on a pretty good note, if you ask me. One thing about getting a handful of crap (or in this case urine) at the beginning of the trip, is that it can only get better, right? Right.

Wrong. We loaded back into the truck, determined to find a place to camp before the night sky enveloped us. We headed east, through the park, and toward BLM land on the other side. During my many hours of study on Capitol Reef maps, I had noticed a dirt road that crossed the Fremont River. This was our destination. I was sure we could find a place to camp here. I was right.

We pulled up under a large cottonwood next to a barren hillside. A large fire ring was marked with black, soot encrusted stones the size of footballs. This was perfect. Miles away from the bustling National Park campground, under the shade of a large tree, with the soft gurgling sounds of the river nearby.

As I set out to unpack our tent I was immediately attacked by droves of large charcoal-gray horseflies. If you were to ask a horsefly if he liked to bite, he would ask you if you liked to breathe. The answer to both of course, is yes. Not just a little, "yes, I like it on occasion", but more like, "Air? I love air!"

Yup, this was starting out to be a good trip. Well, compared with a visit to Hell's version of Death Valley in the middle of August, with no water or transportation or air conditioning. Or Ice cream. Yup, compared to that, this trip was starting out great!

As quickly as I could, I set up our tent one handed, leaving my other hand free to swat countless flies eating my legs like they were candy coated sugar cubes! Shortly after it was all up and ready, the sun set and the flies, I guess, got tired of my legs and left. Perhaps it was their bedtime. At any rate, I was glad they were gone. We built a fire, roasted hot dogs for dinner, and climbed into bed.

Finally. This day was almost over. Only two more left.

I woke up with the sun. Max and Isla were still asleep, and Shayla was content to stay where she was. I got up, climbed into the truck before the friendly flies could find my candy legs, and as they say, headed for the hills!

I crossed the river, went up a rocky hill, and began searching for a new campsite. I was determined to not share my legs with those flies for another day! After about an hour or so, with no luck at all, I returned to camp to find Shayla still inside the tent with a story that made the flies pale in comparison.

Max had woken up and, naturally, had to pee. She took him out to do his business and then climbed back in the tent. As soon as she had gotten the door zipped shut, Max informed her that he had to poop. Back outside! Unfortunately, the tent had other plans and conveniently and purposefully jammed it's own zipper, trapping Shayla and the pooping Max inside. Frantically, Shayla fussed with the zipper while frantically, Max pooped in his pants. A torn tent and a freed zipper later, they were outside, fifty feet from the tent where pants were stripped off and Max finished dropping his bombs onto the dusty pink sand. Poop stained Thomas the Train underpants were left beside the smoldering pile.

Max helped me dig a hole, bury the stinky mess, and fight off the flies. We took the underwear to the fire pit where they were doused with lighter fluid and set ablaze. Once again, this was the trip of a lifetime! Everything was going great! After a quick breakfast of Honey Buns, courtesy of Little Debbie, we left our camp behind and headed back to Capitol Reef. Good bye flies! Good bye poop! Good bye stupid zipper tent!

Our first stop was at the Visitors Center. It was a great place to get a little familiar with the area and what it had to offer. Max found a sweet little boulder outside with a conveniently placed hole for a seat.

Max and his rock seat.


Of course, Isla had to try it out too!

We decided to take a short hike up to Hickman Bridge. Short can mean many things to different people. It obviously means something different to Shayla than it does to me. Well, maybe not, but the steep hike, plus the hot heat, plus the rather unusual humidity, made it seem that way.

There were a few cool things we passed on our way to the natural bridge, and Max had fun exploring all of it!

After a while we found our way to Hickman Bridge. It was pretty cool, but if you've ever seen an arch before, it really wasn't anything to write home about. Or write a blog about. Oops. My bad. Consider this last part unwritten.
















The hike back to the truck was a lot quicker than the hike in. Something to do with it being downhill I guess. We loaded back in to the truck and went for a picnic lunch at the grassy park near the visitors center. It was really pleasant outside now, the shade from the large cottonwoods was a welcome respite, and we were joined for lunch by a few of the locals.


By now, things were going a little better as far as the trip was concerned. We were miles away from our fly infested camp and poopy underwear fire pit. It's crazy how fast troubles like those can be temporarily forgotten. Yeah, temporarily. I say that because after lunch we went back to those flies. Max fell asleep on the drive back, and Shayla was getting tired herself. The sky was a bit overcast so luckily the tent wasn't a sweltering oven when we got back. Max by now, had woken up and there was no chance of him falling asleep again, so I threw him in the back seat of the truck (fitted in an approved child seat with proper restraining device, of course) and headed off on the same road I had set off on earlier in the day when I was searching for a new campsite.

We passed by a wide, dry stream bed that abruptly fell off a 70 foot cliff and down into an even wider canyon. We stopped to explore a bit before continuing on the old dusty road.


Our next stop was next to the decaying remains of an old work truck, buried deep to it's axles in dry desert mud. Ironically, this truck lay dying next to the decaying remains of what was once a robust and healthy cow. The solitary death of two completely different and distinct creatures, their lives separated by years of parched desert sun, now cuddled next to each other in death and decay. Even more ironically, a spring lay not more than twenty feet away, its life giving waters calling out to the dead cow. This was probably the only water for at least ten miles. Naturally, I didn't let Max drink from this clear pool of water now tainted with the stench of rotting flesh and steel.


We drove up the road a few miles further, to a place called the Bentonite Hills. The otherworldly hills seem better suited for a location on Jupiter, or in a scene from Planet of the Apes. Composed entirely of bentonite clay, the white, purple, blue, red, and orange brown hills are completely devoid of all vegetation. The smooth surface rolls from one hill to another, with boulders strewn across random lines.


After passing through the mounds of clay, we turned around and headed back toward camp. We paused for a minute to play in the cool waters of the Fremont River before driving in to camp where Shayla and Isla were waiting for us. After a few minutes, Shayla decided the river sounded like fun, so we headed back down there to play a little longer. Max of course, loved the opportunity to get his feet wet. Isla on the other hand, wasn't too thrilled.
















After everyone's toes were properly wrinkled, we headed to the small town of Torrey for a bite to eat. With burgers on our minds we soon found ourselves inside a small little place called "Slackers". The signs out front promised hamburgers and ice cream, and both sounded good to us.


We ordered our food before heading outside to the outdoor eating area. There was a small play ground complete with swings and a slide that Max immediately put to good use. When our food arrived, I knew we had definitely stopped at the right place. If you ever find yourself in Torrey, be sure to stop at Slackers. You won't be disappointed!


When the burgers were gone (along with Max's chicken nuggets and smiley face french fries), Shayla took off to get Isla some dinner, and Max and I played on the swings. A few sprinkles began to fall around us, occasionally wetting our cheeks. As the rain began to fall more frequently, we headed inside the diner to wait for Shayla. As we watched out the window we could see the sky getting darker and the wind start to pick up.

In a few minutes Shayla came in and joined us. I began talking with her about the merits of ordering ice cream and whether we should purchase some or not. Max of course, voiced his opinion on the matter, and told us he wanted some. We continued to debate the issue for another minute, and Max, worried that his parents didn't quite understand just how much he wanted to eat some of the creamy goodness, bolted out the door, into the rain, and was nearly through the dirt parking lot before I caught up to him. He continued to run and enthusiastically pointed toward the road saying, "I want some of that ice cream!" As I looked up to where his finger indicated, I noticed a giant, bright pink plastic ice cream cone staring right back at me. The word Dreyer's was proudly emblazoned across its flat surface, sparkling from the wet raindrops dripping down its exterior.

Right before our eyes, sticking upright in the freshly damp soil, was every little two-year old's dream. A giant ice cream cone that was larger than life. And Max wanted it. I promptly crushed that dream, telling him it wasn't real (I know, I should have just told him that Santa isn't real either) and took him back inside. I guess his desperate attempt at catching our attention worked, because we bought some ice cream before we left.

The next day we packed up camp and headed for home. Instead of wasting another five hours of our time on paved interstate, I somehow managed to talk Shayla into taking the much longer (try 8 hours) scenic route. This route took us along a section of the 100 mile long monocline of the Waterpocket Fold, up the Burr Trail switchbacks (listed by some as one of the top ten most scenic roads in America) through the narrow depths of Long Canyon, across the Hogback near Boulder with it's sheer drop offs on both sides, and down to the lush greenery of Calf Creek.


It was here we stopped for a nice picnic lunch. After trips to the restroom, we packed up lunch, loaded the kiddies into their kid-carrier backpacks, and set off on foot toward Calf Creek Falls.

The hike in to the falls was only three miles. Not too bad, I thought. Of course, three miles in meant three miles out. At an average walking pace of three miles an hour, I figured we'd be in and out in just over two hours. Right?

Wrong. Little did I know that almost the entirety of the hike was through soft sand. If you know anything about Shayla and her likes and dislikes on a hike, you will know that she absolutely hates hiking through sand. Add in the fact that hiking in sand will undoubtedly make the going quite a bit slower, meaning it was going to take much longer than the originally planned for two hours.


The rain and clouds from the day before had also left and the sun bore down on us like a gigantic iron, threatening to flatten us with his scorching heat. After about a mile into the hike however, the sun apparently heard our cries for relief and called his cloud friends over to hide him from our view. This made hiking a little more comfortable, although I don't think Shayla was still all that excited to be on the trail.

Things got a little worse when we began passing people, all of them telling us that we were almost there. Thirty minutes later, another group of people would tell us the same story. It seemed like almost could go on forever. Luckily, it only went on for almost forever. True to what the people were telling us, we did in fact, stumble upon the crashing waters of Calf Creek Falls.


The temperature at the foot of the falls immediately plummeted about twenty degrees. The cold blue-green waters of the pool beckoned us. Crisp, fresh wind bore down on us from above. The falls were a welcome relief from the hot desert trail. We found a cool grassy spot near the canyon wall, twenty feet from the pool's edge. Shayla sat down for a break while Max and I ventured into the cold waters of the refreshing pool. We wandered around a bit before Max got too cold and fussed to go back near his mom. A few minutes later, Shayla, Isla, Max and I all got up and walked around the pool's edge. I dove in for a quick swim, getting as close as I could to the waterfall before the rush of the water pushed me back.

After we were thoroughly cooled down, we turned around and left the cold waters of Calf Creek Falls behind. The hike out seemed to go a little faster. Maybe it was because we were excited to be on our way back, or maybe it was because the terrain was a bit more familiar to us. Regardless of the reason, we were both happy to finally see the parking lot again.

Shayla didn't take the time to plunge into the falls, so we took a quick dip into the river by the campground. Again, the waters were cool and refreshing.

After changing out of our wet clothes and back into dry ones, we loaded into the truck, and headed for home! The rest of the way was indeed beautiful, albeit long. Both Max and Isla were desperate to get out of the truck by the time we reached Cedar City, and were not shy about letting us know.

We finally pulled into our driveway late that night. This was a trip of ups and downs, highlights and lowlights, and through all the mess and fuss and potential for disaster, I'd say it was a trip full of great memories and one that I wouldn't mind taking again. Just don't tell Shayla that!