A desert to warm the soul

Mid-summer 2020, as Covid continued to rage and human companionship was hard to come by, a few places re-opened. Cautiously. In less-traveled destinations.

I really needed to get out of the house, so I checked destinations near Las Vegas, where I lived in 2020. A Hampton Inn in the southernmost corner of St. George, Utah was open! A reservation was accompanied by a list of rules that guests had to follow. But if you recall those days—and you most likely do—rules did not matter as long as a body could get outdoors.

Although Zion has been a favorite place to unwind and chill since 2007, I knew that whatever was open in Springdale—Zion’s “home”—would be unpleasantly crowded. Southwestern Utah? Less so.

Research showed me that the Grand Canyon ended a little west of St. George, so I decided that I would explore Parashant National Monument, a National Park that marks the westernmost edge of the Grand Canyon. I left work on Friday August 7 at 5 p.m. sharp, something I rarely did. I knew I simply had to reach Virgin River Gorge before dark. That gorge is best traversed during daylight.

I could drive Interstate 15 through that place, north or south, it doesn’t matter, a million times, and I would never grow tired of it. The ugliness of the Nevada desert, and the tiny sliver of Arizona that’s equally ugly, suddenly and almost without warning gives way to breathtaking beauty. A friend in California told me he never ventured north of the gorge. He had a favorite camping spot on the Virgin River that allowed him peace and quiet, as well as good fishing.

Saturday morning after breakfast, I pointed Blue Baby in the direction of Parashant National Monument. With a sinking feeling, I read the sign on the road leading to the park. Oh no! It’s not really accessible unless you’re an excellent hiker. Which I am not.

That road led to a trailhead, which in turn led to trails back to the million or more acres that comprise the westernmost Grand Canyon.

Fortunately at that spot, there’s still Internet, allowing me to search for alternatives. I noticed mention of a “Veyo Loop” which promised great scenery. I headed west on Old U.S. 91 towards Santa Clara. That part of the drive isn’t anything special. You’re still in St. George.

I had hardly passed that city, when I noticed that traffic headed towards St. George was bumper to bumper. Westbound traffic flowed nicely, except for rubberneckers. Utah Highway Department detoured us through Kayenta so eastbound traffic could use both lanes of 91.

I am telling you this boring detail because I learned later that evening that an eighteen-wheeler took a dive off a bridge in the Virgin River Gorge around 4 a.m. Fire department was able to rescue the driver, but the truck dangled over the guardrail much of the day and started a fire beneath the bridge.

Northbound travelers on Interstate 15 had to travel to St. George and points further north via a very long detour that adds about three hours to the drive. Those were the poor souls I was seeing. And that’s also why I don’t drive the Virgin River Gorge after dark.

From Kayenta (or normally, from Santa Clara) to Shivwits, I drove through barren desert and massive red rock formations. Looking south, it’s gray and barren. North, red and breathtaking.

Still on 91 headed west, red rock ends as suddenly as it began. The barren desert sports gigantic boulders, black boulders, lava, just as the Shivwits Reservation begins. The land belongs to the Shivwits Band of Paiutes. Yet another part of U.S. history that’s inglorious at best. Their land is private, so no exploration there. I did manage to photograph an abandoned building on the reservation, where the road bent north towards Shem (on our maps), or Sham, the Shivwits name.

Past Shivwits and before Sham (Shem), the road forks. The left fork follows U.S. 91 south, the old route to Nevada and Arizona. Right fork is named simply Gunlock Drive and heads due north. The Santa Clara River Dam—located almost immediately past Sham (Shem)—marks the beginning of a five-mile piece of paradise. The road follows the Santa Clara River, invisible until now. Trees line the west side of the road.

That stretch, unexpected in its beauty, also raises questions. While the lefthand side is treelined and beautiful, the righthand size shifts from lava to red to lava. Only, as I learn from reading signs, this red rock is different from the red rock in Vegas and near St. George. I am seeing petrified dunes, not mere rock. How is that even possible?

And about five miles in, the lava—until now, infrequent and mostly large boulders—becomes fields of lava flow, a high mountain crowned with a wall of lava. Where the map shows the demarcation between red rock and black, that’s a crown, as best as I can describe it.

I didn’t pull over at Coeus Canyon. Only later did I wish I had done so. It’s a relatively short hike and probably would have answered my questions about the interface between lava and petrified dunes.

Less than a mile past the parking lot for Coeus Canyon, another mind-blowing sight: Gunlock State Park. No charge to enter or drive through the park. But: Waterfalls, boat ramp, campsites, fishing piers, picnic tables, and areas designated for swimming. In the southwestern Utah desert. With that lava mountain reigning supreme over it all.

That guide that sent me towards Veyo wasn’t wrong. Not in the least. Veyo itself is nothing special. Veyo Pies? I wish they would franchise. I bought a blackberry “pie,” which tasted more like my mom’s blackberry cobbler. And yes, there’s a difference. Cobbler is way better. IYKYK.

Veyo Pies was prepared for Covid without realizing it. There’s only one or two tables inside. Otherwise, they take advantage of southern Utah’s desert climate and place their “dining room” outdoors. They also have a pickup window. I doubt their business missed a beat during Covid.

Note that you can order online. But they don’t ship. Online is for pickup only. Good excuse to visit Veyo!

Veyo is also well-known as the location of the Veyo Volcano (aha!). The Salt Lake Tribune carried an article regarding hiking both the Veyo and Santa Clara volcanoes in a single day. Not for the faint of heart, but if that’s your thing, just know the hike comes highly recommended.

From Veyo, I headed south on UT-18S towards Snow Canyon State Park. I could have spent all day in this park alone. [Note: There are fees associated with this park. They’ve increased since 2020. I paid $10 as a non-resident. It’s $20 now.]

Petrified dunes and lava fields alternate with white rocks. I marveled at nearly every bend in the road. Zion National Park has a diverse landscape, to be sure. Snow Canyon is a different animal altogether. From their Web site, literature available free of charge at the entrance:

Transported by wind more than 183 million years ago, tiny grains of quartzite sand covered much of what we now call Utah. These sand dunes, up to 2,500 feet thick, eventually were cemented into stone. Burnt orange to creamy white in color, Navajo sandstone, the predominant rock in the park, is what remains of the ancient desert sand sea.

Over time, water has cut and shaped the sandstone to form canyons. Approximately 1.4 million years ago, and as recently as 27,000 years ago, nearby cinder cones erupted, causing lava to flow down these canyons, filling them with basalt. This redirected ancient waterways, eventually carving new canyons. Look up to see lava-capped ridges that were once canyon bottoms. Removal of rocks and minerals is prohibited.

“Look up to see lava-capped ridges that were once canyon bottoms.” Yes! That’s what those “crowns” had been!

I drove slowly and stopped often, taking as many paths as possible. There’s a sense of awe in a landscape like this. It defies expectations, challenges our preconceived notions, forces us to think outside the box.

I dragged my feet, slowed down even more, the rest of the way to St. George. UT-18S turns into Bluff Road, with a view of the town that’s unparalleled. By the time I reached the overlook, it was dark, peaceful.

My favorite restaurant was closed due to Covid, so I picked up food and ate in the hotel room. It had been hard waiting for supper to eat that blackberry pie! But I wanted to savor it, not rush.

In the end, a long weekend is good for the soul precisely because of that.

It gives us time to savor, to slow down. Not rush.

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