Sometimes we choose our exploring ahead of our location, and sometimes our location determines the scope of our exploration. Having had to slow our roll means our location has been dictating our plodding of late, however, having landed in southern Utah, we’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference. As our circle of comfort widens, the hikes have just gotten better and better.
Wire Mesa is a popular mountain bike trail and was built especially for
that. Fortunately for us, hiking is also welcomed. You’ll want to watch
your step, of course.
“Wow, look at that pretty cact– Eeeek!” |
We weren’t the only ones out early to try to beat the heat of the day. Fortunately, this was a mild-mannered gopher snake {Colubridae} keeping the mesa vermin-free.
The reason this trail was built becomes clear in very short order.
Looking into Zion. |
As the nice gopher snake pointed out, the claret cup cacti were blazing like small campfires dotting the plateau.
Thorny flames. |
Heading away from the Zion view |
Our next excursion saw us heading out to find a place known as the Candy Cliffs.
I’m not washing that. |
After a dusty drive up a service road, we arrived at the small parking area.
Who goes here? |
The trail was sandy and entirely crisscrossed with the tracks of every sort of critter that lives in the area. It’s not a very long walk before you reach the rim of the candy jar.
A bowl of confections! |
There is no formal trail after going over the edge, but there is unlimited scrambling on the candy-striped slick rock.
within sugary swirls |
along natural steps |
upon steep cones |
between the cool oases |
Purple desert sage lined the sandy trail, and fuchsia prickly pear blossoms opened practically before our eyes. Quiet, obviously uncrowded, and full of eye-candy, this hike was a sweet treat.
Our next hike didn’t have the visual appeal of the previous two, but if you’re paying attention as you hike — and you should always pay attention as you hike — you’ll likely come across something interesting no matter where you are.
Not interesting. |
This hike took place in the Red Cliffs Desert Reserve and was accessed off a very long, very sandy road on which we fishtailed a little bit and bounced a lot. We don’t care much for either of those things, so by the time we parked at the inauspicious-looking trailhead, we were a little…rattled.
Meh. Only OK. |
After descending to the creek, the trail climbed a series of long switchbacks.
Moderately view-worthy. |
Once up on top, the trail flattened out, where taking in the views became more pleasant.
Say, now, that’s certainly interesting! |
When I first spotted this critter stretched across the trail, I thought it was another gopher snake, but a quick look at the tail told us all we needed to know. As we were planning our retreat up and around this sun-snoozer, it woke up in a bit of a snit.
Great Basin Rattlesnack |
It assumed a defensive position in the trail, and I exclaimed, “What an asshole!” but it wasn’t really being a jerk. It faced us as it moved off the trail, never rattling, but hissing a few times because no one likes their picture taken right after they’ve woken up.
Even though we’re always aware that we may encounter dangerous critters along the way, once one has been spotted, it makes the rest of that particular hike a bit tense.
Snake-dowsing. |
The second half of the hike yielded no more surprises and even ended with a refreshing break. I don’t know why TBG didn’t dip his toes because it was heavenly. Maybe he was afraid a snake would come along. I don’t know why I wasn’t.
Ahhhhh. The only thing missing was some shade. |
The last hike of this series was also one that is more popular with
mountain bikers than hikers. We combined sections of three trails to
make a loop.
Casual Monday. |
These trails are mostly exposed, which is good for mountain biking, but not as fun for hiking.
Not long into the hike, TBG heard a noise at the side of the trail.
Another Great Basin Rattlesnack in a fit of hissiness. |
It had been on the back side of a small bush I’d walked right by, apparently a little too close for its comfort, so as TBG passed, it was giving a few warning hisses to be sure no one had any intention of hassling it. No one did.
About midway through our loop, we encountered some big rock formations,
but they were really the only true section of note during this hike.
After taking a break in the shade of a little canyon just past the rocks, we had to plod through two very sandy washes.
They were both mostly hot and miserable. |
Then the trail climbed back out of the washes and paralleled the highway for the rest of the way back, which was boring and hot. The most noteworthy occurrence on that stretch was watching a leopard lizard catch its lunch.
Scrummy! |
Hiking in viper territory has definite parallels to the state of the world currently:
The threat is always there. Don’t be in a rush. Keep your distance. Be prepared. And, as always, a little restraint goes a long, long way.
Stay safe and be well, Faithful Readers.
The end. |
Just need to cool the rig in the evening to get to sleep earlier.
I don’t mind the getting up early, and it’s a dry heat hahaha ugh.
I’m glad those two big rattlers warned you of their presence with hissy fits. That definitely does not make for a relaxing hike. We’ve only seen a couple of venomous snakes in all of our years of hiking and I’d like to keep it that way. Although, we have seen a couple of water moccasins crossing the streets here in Florida while on our neighborhood walks. And we kayak with alligators. Sigh. Oh, and I’m with you on the heat factor…hot is hot. I’m gonna miss spending our summers in fleece in places where there are no snakes, waahhhh.
Believe it or not, I felt a little bad both times for scaring the vipers! I do wish they’d pay attention to where they’re going and stay off the trails 😄
We still haven’t decided how we feel about kayaking with gators. They don’t often? ever? attack a kayak? But the real question is, why does the water moccasin cross the road?
I’m not sure I want the trophy for Best Rattlesnack Spotters 😆