A Slot Canyon: Part 2

Utah 2025 #

2025-06-13

We’re still in that slot Canyon in southern Utah. Part 1 can be found here:

A Slot Canyon

A ground squirrel bounces away from us, stops and waits, unsure.

A lizard cautiously awaits our passage.

We decide to take a rest at a large rock near a bend.  

Why didn’t she see that? She walked right past someone?!  Sometimes it is more important to watch your step and miss periphery.

I say loudly enough, “Hey I see a pair of shoes!“

I wrap a sarong around my waist, but DF chooses not to. We walk a few paces,” Hello”

A man sits on a rock with a smile. “I just thought that I’d give you some privacy.“

I think that DF’s not covering puts him at ease. He seems to feel less out of place. The polite guy has a conversation with us. He’d been back into the canyon for a couple of hours and came from the lower narrows. “I think that these were the prettiest.”

With the news that the slot will open up soon, we continue, our separate ways.

There is less climbing for a while. The bottom flattens out. Most surfaces are smooth. We can even walk a stretch next to each other holding hands. We stop in awe often.

We are constantly looking up to see how high the walls are. There are many odd formations above. At one point, a dragons sits watching frozen in stone.

There is another one, kissing hoodoos.

We observe the multiple layers of stone, laying in different directions, a ribbon of color and texture above.

The water has been meandering through here a long time.

Wind is doing its part.

We stroll for a while, losing thoughts of time.

There is much less shade and then, not much really.

The guy in the boots said that it was 11:20 when we had encountered him. There looks to be no more narrows, it is more a wash through a thin canyon at this point.

The sun is beaming from a more directly above position, penetrating deeper down between the walls. The heat of the day convinces us to turn back, that and the prospect of going back through the channel of color and form that we just enjoyed so much.

We have a ticket to take the ride again!

Sometimes, it feels more precarious to climb down a tight shoot, a dry water fall, a drop off, than up.

We drop our bodies down carefully, instead of pulling them up. At times there is a delightful small jump to the soft sand below to complete a descent, a gentle flight, a voice inside, exclaiming, “Oh that wasn’t so bad!”

Still, we generally help each other, passing our belongings down to the first Guinea pig to protect them during the very naked climb. Overall, this has been pleasant with a sense of canyoneering.

There is what I think is a femur bone stuck in between two rocks.

It appears that an animal may have gotten stuck, dying there. It looks thick and large enough to remind me of the movie about a young man in this area, who had to remove part of his own leg to escape a dehydrated trapped death in a similar position. The sight of the old bone gives me a chill

We climb back out of the narrow canyon. Across the road, the beloved truck sits alone, a metal contrast to the odd rock formations that surround it. There is no quiet here, there is something more, a pure silence. With nothing to listen to, I focus on the visual delights.

Having placed everything into the SUV, I decide on a little more walking, to explore. I’m not ready for my transition from immersed bare in quiet natural rock, to immersed in metal and plastic, driving with all of the automatic responses of fast paced activity that interacts with a steering wheel and a stick shift.

There are short paths into the cones sculptured by millennia.

I experience the tactile nature of the loose sides of the hills. The fine sand has piled around eroding rock. It is light, filtered by wind and breeze. My foot sinks deeply into it after crushing the harder outer layer, where some passing clay dust collected with some water and a local blend of bacteria to create a crust and a deeper color. The formations feel more imposing, as we near them and look up, like children, our heads leaning back, gazing at a towering adult.

As we walk the trail, I hear a vehicle about to pass over the ridge, descending into this small valley. I took a risk having no coverings, but the odds were against seeing passing cars. I’m about to get caught naked by passing white truck. It is no problem. My backup plan is to just stand behind DF, who has a white dress shirt on to protect her from the intense sun. As I stand nude, watching, ready to wave, the driver doesn’t even look. His eyes are on the road in front of him as he passes, deeply intent on getting from point A to Point B.

Later, getting back closer to Kodachrome Sate Park, a cowboy with a grey beard looks like he knows what he is doing. On horseback, in full western regalia, he is leading a young bull and two calves along the road, as we and other traffic pass by, sharing the same.

We slow to a creep, not to spook his wards, crossing to the farthest side of the road, aware that one might bolt in front of us. This guy is very good at this, in control, calm and stern. With many years under his silver belt buckle, he is a master of his craft.

Up on a small hill, I find a shady spot under a juniper tree for a lunch. There is a colorful peaceful view, grey scrubby brush, leading to hoodoos, before a colorful cliff, which meets an infinite turquoise sky. I write my notes, as DF draws distant formations with her colored pencils. Occasionally a breeze refreshes the naked bodies, which happily sit, freely open to all of the blessings.

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