Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Bryce Canyon: Riggs Spring Loop Backpack

 The Riggs Spring Loop departs from Rainbow Point, on the southern end of Bryce Canyon National Park.  The trail makes an 8.8 mile loop into the wilderness below the pink cliffs, dropping over 1,700 feet as it winds through the dense forest, only to climb the same elevation on the other side.  We were in the mood to enjoy the solitude and the cool, breezy weather for a while longer before heading to the warmer climate of Moab, so we reserved campsites for two nights on the loop.  This would leave us with three short hikes and plenty of time for reading and relaxing in the hammock.  

Knowing we had a short first day's hike of 1.6 miles, we slept in  before packing up camp and stopping into Ruby's Inn for a big breakfast.  We were finally stepping onto the trail at Rainbow Point around 11 am.  Rainbow Point sits at over 9,100 feet of elevation, resulting in tremendous views and cool, breezy conditions.  

The trail to Yovimpa Pass, our first night's destination, was steeper than we expected.  The path switch-backed sharply down the face of an open slope.  The loose rocks and gravel beneath our feet made for slow, precarious travel.  We gradually descended into an open forest of large trees, many of which still bore the signs of having suffered through a forest fire at some point in the past.  Occasional views to the south provided glimpses of the pink cliffs directly beneath the ridge we were traversing, and more distant panoramas of the tortured landscape of the Grand Escalante Staircase.

Shortly after departing this fire-impacted section of the forest, we arrived at Yovimpa Pass.  A gravel road not open to cars intersected the trail at the pass.  Only a small wooden sign for the campsite gave away that this was where we were to camp.  We examined the area and decided to pitch our tent beneath a gigantic ponderosa pine tree.  The surrounding area was an opening within the forest.  Scattered downed trees littered the hillside above us.  The Riggs Spring Trail appeared to drop suddenly off of the ridge past here, giving our campsite ideal views to the  south.  

We lazed away the afternoon reading.  It was one of the coolest days since we had been in the park.  The air couldn't have been warmer than 75 degrees. 

 A little after five, three more hikers arrived at the campsite, making the steep climb up from below.  We had expected to have the campsite to ourselves for the night, but one of the men from Arizona said that the park grants permits for 6 people at this site each night.  This theory was shot down when a young couple from Boston hiked in a couple hours later, saying they had a permit too.  Fortunately, both parties bushwacked off-trail to find campsites, and although we could occasionally hear them, we had a reasonable amount of privacy for the night.

The air quickly grew cold after dark and we struggled to keep warm in our sleeping bag.  The forest was wonderfully silent as the brightest full moon of the year rose overhead.  I awoke on more than one occasion thinking that I had overslept and missed sunrise, only to realize that the blinding light overhead was just the moon.  

We slept in until it was warm enough to justify leaving our cozy sleeping bag.  After a breakfast of grits and  coffee we packed up and headed down the trail.  Our destination for the night was the Coral Hollow Campsite, less than four miles away.  This should have provided for another easy day, or at least we thought.  

The trail dropped sharply down the ridge for the first mile or so.  The loose rocks and gravel continued to make for slow going.  Eventually we were off of the ridge, and for the next mile or so we had an easy stroll through a beautiful forest of ponderosa, fir and aspen  trees.  The steady breeze blew through the aspen trees, shaking the little green leaves.  We thought that they looked to be waving at us as we hiked by.  Aspen certainly seem to be some of the friendliest trees to hike under!

When we reached the Riggs Spring Campsite we took off our packs for a break.  Riggs Spring would be our last source of water on the backpack, so I planned to filter enough to last us the rest of the trip here.  Mary sat with the packs while I wandered off to find the spring.  Riggs Spring was a small pool of clear water surrounded by mud at the edge of the forest clearing.  The park had built a small fence around it, I assumed to help hikers locate the tiny watering hole.  

I found a well-placed log to rest on while I filtered the water.  I had only been sitting there for a couple of minutes when I heard an alarming crashing sound behind me.  I spun around, ready to confront a bear, or other woodland creature.  Whatever caused the sound was not visible, but the trees and leaves were still shaking next to me.  The man from Arizona the last night had said that his wife had seen a mountain lion at Riggs Spring during a previous visit.  The park service had warning signs everywhere that a mountain lion had entered Sunset Campground last fall.  The park ranger in Zion National Park had told us that, although Utah hasn't had problems, "mountain lions in the Sierra Nevadas occasionally stalk and kill hikers."  

With these thoughts racing through my mind as I eyed the dark forest, I decided strength in numbers was a good idea.  I walked back to where Mary was and asked her to get our the bear spray, just in case.  We moved our packs to where I was filtering and made a point to talk loudly while I finished filtering.  The culprit behind the commotion never gave himself away, and we finished filtering, ate a quick snack and got back on the trail  As we hiked south, we both had the feeling of being watched.  The occasional noise to our right would cause us both to stop and peer into the forest, expecting to see something moving.  Heavy, gray clouds moved into the area, and a cold wind blew through the forest.  Mary remarked that if we in Michigan, we would assume it was going to rain, with air like that.

We passed the Riggs Spring Campsite, not bothering to to look at our trail map.  After all, this was a loop hike, we figured. One of the campfire rings in the group campground was filled with giant pinecones, piled high in a perfect geometric formation.  Mary joked that it was "bear art" - the work of bored forest bears with limited mediums with which to express themselves.  

As we hiked south the trail began to grow fainter and fainter.  It suddenly vanished at the edge of a giant wash, the forest tore up by the terrible violence of flash floods in the past.  We climbed down into the wash and began to search for where the trail resumed.  Some strange equipment was sitting on the opposite bank.  I recognized one device as an anemometer, a machine that measures wind speed and direction.  I wasn't sure what the other equipment was for.  

We followed the wash for a while, until a path appeared again.  Confident that we had found the trail, we bounded off down the path, eager to reach our campsite for the night.  After about ten minutes of hiking, we suddenly arrived at a fence.  Evidence of ranching was all around, and a sign indicated that we had reached the park boundary.  Beyond this point was National Forest Land.  A ladder had been installed over the fence, much like on sections of the AT in Vermont.  We wondered if we were supposed to climb it.  The guide book I had used hadn't  mentioned ranch land, fences, or leaving the park.  

Frustrated, I pulled out our topo map, and suddenly felt like a complete idiot.  The trail to Corral Hollow had turned off by the spring.  We had followed another trail that ran out of the park and into National Forest Land.  We angrily turned and resumed hiking in the opposite direction, hoping we could follow the faint path all the way back to the spring.  I couldn't help but wonder what the purpose of this trail was.  The dried-up remains of cow patties littered the forest floor- evidence that the ranch livestock must get into this area some times.

We successfully found our way back to the spring, but didn't see any signs of the trail turning northeast from here.  We decided the turn-off must be north of here.  We hiked for about ten minutes past the spring, annoyed to be covering the same section of trail again.  The trail never appeared.  We finally took our packs off and sat down for a break.  We were both cursing the park service for a such a poorly labeled trail junction.

Mary thought she had seen a sign on the opposite side of the wash, and maybe this would show where the trail picked up.  I stayed with the packs while she climbed the steep banks to have a look.  She was gone for about ten minutes, before she came walking back on the same side of the wash as I was sitting.  She had found the trail!

Mary had followed the wash for a while, looking for a sign.  She never did find the sign, but she found a clear trail with many boot prints.  She followed it back towards the other side of the wash until it intersected with trail we had been on, sitting one of her trekking poles down to mark the spot.  It turned out the trail junction was exactly where it was shown on the map.  If we stood facing in the direction of travel of the trail we were on, it was completely concealed by the tall grasses at the junction.  Once we turned our bodies and looked down it, the path was clear.  We had wasted more than an hour wandering around the forest looking for it.  

The path now clear, we resumed hiking.  The trail climbed steadily away from the junction, passing through a dense forest with no views.  We struggled to find the trail again where a giant tree had fallen and wiped out the trail.  This time, it only took us a couple minutes of wandering around to pick up the trail on the other side of the tangled mess.  No wonder the ranger had warned us that Bryce wasn't a good backcountry park!

A couple of hikers passed us headed in the opposite direction as we climbed.  Where were they when we couldn't find the trail, we wondered!?!  

Eventually the sing for Corral Hollow appeared.  We were delighted to be done hiking for the day.  What was supposed to be a short, easy hiking day had turned into a frustrating and long hike.  Corral Hollow was a small campsite, with room only for a couple of tents.  A "hollow' is like a ravine, or gully.  Corral Hollow was a fairly small level area, with steep walls rising on all sides.  Pink Cliffs were visible directly above us, and giant trees lined the trail through the hollow.  

We set up camp quickly, eager to relax.  We did not see another soul while we were camped at Corral Hollow.  The woods were eerily silent during the night.  Dark clouds drifted in during the evening, and we wondered if we had erred in not brining our rain fly.  One plus to the cloud cover was that it trapped the day's heat at least.  The air remained balmy throughout the night.  The moon passed overhead during the night, its intense white light shrouded by drifting clouds.  

We were relieved when morning came and the skies were clear.  We ate quickly, packed up camp, and were on the trail before 8 am.  The hike up from Corral Hollow to Rainbow Point, 3.6 miles, was by far the most spectacular section of the hike.  The trail quickly ascended to a ridge with stunning views of the Grand Escalante Staircase in the distance, and the dark green forest in the foreground.  The rest of the hike stayed on this ridge, allowing for steady views and consistent breezy, cool air.

By 10 o'clock we were making our way past tourist in flip flops wandering the woodchip-covered trail near Rainbow Point.  Our two night backpack on the Riggs Spring Trail had turned out to be much harder than we expected.  Our reward for the slow travel on the poorly marked and lightly used trail, though, was two nights of solitude in a beautiful, dark forest.  We never saw any large mammals during our backpack, but we had the distinct impression they were around.  We even found some mountain lion scat on the trail in one section of the trail.  The wilderness below the rim was the perfect answer to the hordes of tourists packing the viewpoints above.

Note:  The little green guy in the bottom picture is a short-horned lizard, which was saw tons of on the trail.