Journey to Utah in 2013, part 10: the Markagunt Plateau, escaping the snow, and the Mojave Desert

This post is part of a series. Click here to read the first post. To see the Bryce Canyon/Rt 14 gallery, click here.

THERE'S MORE WINTER WHERE THAT CAME FROM

The next morning our windows were covered with ice and windblown snow, casting the interior of the RV into a fuzzy dimness. Yawning and peering out through one tiny clear patch in a side window, I saw two tents I’d spotted across from us the afternoon before, now covered with snow and ice. I wondered who had slept in these tents and how their night had passed. And would I ever be the kind of person who could sleep outside in such cold weather? I hoped so; it seemed like a useful skill to have. My current sleeping bag was not going to cut it in a situation like that, though. I’d need to find another one. I yawned again, feeling the lack of sleep. I wondered if Bev was going to want to stay longer at Bryce Canyon. Would the temperature drop even lower tonight?

We turned on the generator and heater when we woke up, and soon the interior of the RV was comfortable again. Ice began to melt and slide down the windows. We watched its progress over breakfast. The newly cleared windows revealed an azure sky. A perfect winter wonderland of puffy white drifts on dark green branches was vignetted by the fog around the edges of each window. Icicles clung to the outside of the RV’s top sleeping compartment, where I had spent the night. I watched sleepily as they dripped water onto the windshield. When the level of coffee in my big yellow mug got lower, I felt awake enough to check the weather website again. More snow was predicted for this area, and soon. I informed Bev and she immediately expressed her opinion. “Let’s get out of here!” she said.

We stopped at Bryce Canyon Lodge for lunch and then browsed in the gift shop. This was our last chance to buy national park souvenirs for those people at home who deserved them. Soon I was watching the park gates retreat in my rearview mirror. So long, Bryce Canyon, I thought with a sigh. Who knows when I’ll see you again.

A CLARON FORMATION SNOWGLOBE

We drove away from the park the same way we’d come in: along Route 12, this time heading west. The snowstorm we thought we’d escaped suddenly found us as we drove through Red Canyon. I was glad that Bev was a seasoned winter driver. During her years living in upstate New York, she’d often driven a van in conditions much like these. Not that she was enjoying it now; she gripped the steering wheel tightly and muttered something about just wanting to get out of this damn snow. I was the lucky one who got to ride in the passenger seat and gawk at the scenery. The Red Canyon hoodoos I’d admired on my way to Bryce Canyon were now part of a new fantastical picture, and I felt like a tiny figure inside a Claron Formation snowglobe.

I loved riding through the red limestone tunnels again. I later learned that these portals in the rock were dug in 1925, while work was underway to make Bryce Canyon a national park. The tunnels were specifically planned as a gateway to Bryce Canyon. They were also meant to wow the important people who were visiting then. I photographed them madly while Bev steered us onward through the blizzard. We passed Red Canyon Visitor Center, now blanketed in white. Seeing the Visitor Center made me realize how many trails I was missing. I wished we had more time to explore. I saw the paved bike trail that runs from Red Canyon to the Sevier River. Someday I’d like to ride on that one, I thought.

Our route was taking us back through Dixie National Forest, or part of it anyway. The largest national forest in Utah, Dixie National Forest covers a width of 170 miles in the southern half of the state. It’s divided into four districts, and its area totals 2 million acres. We were now traveling through Powell District, which contains the entire Paunsaugunt Plateau. Just this one district alone is 400,000 acres with nearly 50 areas for day hiking, all of them no doubt full of endless perfect combinations of trees and Claron Formation rocks and rivers and other wonderful things. Bryce Canyon National Park is only a tiny section of this plateau. Sure, it’s got the most spectacular hoodoos, but there’s a lot more to look at and ponder in this part of the Colorado Plateau besides those.

FROM ONE NATIONAL FOREST DISTRICT TO ANOTHER

Route 12 took us west to Route 89, now cleared of snow and ice. We drove out of the snowstorm as we left Dixie National Forest and dropped down onto the river’s floodplain. Soon we were heading south alongside a Sevier River now framed with snowbanks. The snow made thick white lines on the landscape, separating it into sections of orange, green, and blue. We passed towns, strange to see after days inside parks: Panguitch, where Route 143 led to Cedar Breaks National Monument, and Hatch, where bright primary-colored buildings popped out against the snow-muted landscape. The red theme continued in the form of sheds, trailers, and parked cars. 

It wasn’t long before we reached the turnoff for Route 14 at Long Valley Junction and began a slow climb up the eastern edge of the Markagunt Plateau, the western neighbor of the Bryce Canyon’s Paunsaugunt Plateau. The area was sparsely settled and felt peaceful. Pronghorn sheep jumped across the road in front of us, too fast for me to photograph. I opened my window a bit; the air was sharp and unspoiled, intoxicating to breathe. We continued to climb, and I looked down at houses on hilltops below, wondering what their view was like, wondering what it would be like to see this area in different seasons. We were soon back in Dixie National Forest, this time the Cedar City District, which occupies a large part of the Markagunt Plateau.

I wondered as we drove how it was that such huge, spectacular sections of forest came to be protected. Later I learned that overgrazing of land on the Colorado Plateau was a massive problem in the late 19th century, and the effects of it still linger, even in the National Forest areas. I was surprised to learn how quickly sheep and cattle were able to destroy many natural features of the ecosystem when allowed unlimited access by humans. The second half of the 19th century saw enormous cattle and sheep drives sweeping across the Colorado Plateau, damaging grasslands and preventing forests from regenerating. Local ranchers asked the federal government to take official steps to guard the forest land surrounding their communities from these marauding livestock. The government had started to set aside forest reserves in the 1890s. In 1905, the protected areas here became Dixie National Forest.

A WATERFALL COMING OUT OF A CAVE

Route 14 sometimes goes by another name: the Markagunt High Plateau Scenic Byway. It was easy to see the sense in this name as we traveled along this gorgeous road. We were definitely in the Canadian Zone now. I loved the way things looked at this altitude, the freshness of the air, the clarity of the colors. We passed Duck Creek Village, a small community where people come to fish, hunt, and ride snowmobiles. The lithe white forms of aspens lined the roadway. I’ve got to come back here, find a way to spend some time on this plateau, I thought. As we drove along, I began to mentally construct a Markagunt Plateau vacation home.

Almost directly across the road from Duck Creek was Navajo Lake. You can see it in the first photo below, a stunning vision of alpine splendor even when shot through the window of a fast-moving RV. Surrounded by snow-capped fir trees, the lake was a lighter color than I expected: teal in some places. I had to find out more about this body of water. I had a feeling there was something geologically interesting going on here. You can’t move far on the Colorado Plateau without bumping into something geologically interesting.

The story behind Navajo Lake, which the Paiutes called Cloud Lake, involves both the Claron Formation and volcanic activity on the Markagunt Plateau. There is a volcanic field right here next to Navajo Lake, and this began spewing lava one million years ago from cinder cones, piles of lava and debris around volcanic vents. Lava was last emitted here one thousand years ago, which is quite recent in geological terms. Navajo Lake formed when the most recent flow blocked the drainage of a narrow valley, creating a shallow natural reservoir that fills with water from nearby springs. The lake is only about 25 feet deep at most, which is probably why it had that teal color I noticed.

Here’s the fascinating part: there are no surface rivers or creeks leading out of this lake, so its water drains through sinkholes at the bottom of the lake into a tunnel and cave system in the Claron Formation. After traveling a few miles underground through the Claron, the water from Navajo Lake comes out of a cave at Cascade Falls. That’s something I want to go back and see someday, a waterfall coming out of a cave. Even more fascinating to me is the fact that Cascade Falls forms the headwaters of the North Fork of the Virgin River, the same river that runs through Zion Canyon. I find it very satisfying that my Navajo Lake photo shows water destined for Zion National Park via subterranean Claron Formation pathways. It ties the whole Colorado Plateau together for me.

A TREACHEROUS PASSAGE

As we climbed higher up the Markagunt Plateau and Cedar Mountain, I could tell we’d reached our loftiest elevation yet. We crossed the 11,000 foot peak of Cedar Mountain and were suddenly hit by a snowstorm as we began the descent. We’d had some warning of the nearness of snow as we approached the peak; all the meadows we passed were covered with fresh-looking snow, and there were more snowdrifts on the road with every mile.

If it weren’t for the snow we would’ve been able to see the remains of lava flows from the volcanic field alongside Route 14. If it had been autumn, we would’ve seen the aspens blazing with fall colors; if summer, we would’ve seen great quantities of wildflowers. Many spectacular sights along this road were obscured by the snow, such as the lookout spot near the peak of Cedar Mountain that has a view of Zion National Park’s backcountry area to the south. There was no way we were going to see that view; it was the scene of a major blizzard. But I had no complaints to make about the scenery, because winter endowed this passage with its own beauty. The colors of the cliffs we were passing stood out in a whitened world. Most delicious of all were the ice falls, frozen waterfalls resembling ribbon candy. They hung from outcroppings of frosted rock.

Descending Cedar Mountain into Cedar Canyon was scary. We knew we were in the homestretch, within twenty miles of Cedar City, but it seemed like a long time before we exited the rough wind and snow. Bev was calm now, a careful and efficient driving machine, but I was nervous. Occasionally we saw cars and trucks headed in the opposite direction, faster than we would’ve ever considered going here, driving in a way that suggested familiarity with the route. Bev and I expressed amazement that people actually use this route frequently in the wintertime.

My fear didn’t stop me from enjoying and madly photographing the views of trees, rocks, and cliffs covered in snow. We soon passed along the southwest of Cedar Breaks National Monument. This magnificent park is another grand display of the Claron Formation, with fewer hoodoos than Bryce, all in one giant deep amphitheater. We wouldn’t see the park itself on this trip, but we could see its Claron Formation cliffs on the side of the road. We passed Ashdown Gorge Wilderness Area, which shares its western and northern borders with Cedar Breaks. I began to think again of how much beauty I wasn’t going to get to see on this trip.

Most magnificent of all on the nerve-wracking descent were the roadside cliffs near Cedar City: passageways through layers of rock that exposed the Moenkopi and Chinle Formations, drastically tilted on their sides by the activity of the Hurricane Fault. As you might remember from an earlier post, the Hurricane Fault forms the eastern boundary of the Colorado Plateau; it runs along I-15 from St. George to Cedar City. It was startling to see these tilted layers pop out of the snow. Our time remaining on the Colorado Plateau now numbered in the minutes. Once we reached Cedar City, we’d be over the boundary and back in the Great Basin.

GATEWAY TO THE PARKS

We arrived in Cedar City and stopped for gas. Snow flurries touched our faces, but we were now down at 5,840 feet elevation and the air was considerably less cold here in the absence of a storm. Despite the snow on the ground, flowering trees were in bloom and signs of spring were everywhere. We were only about 20 miles away from the Mojave Desert now.

Cedar City is often called “Gateway to the Parks” because it acts as an access point to the many scenic areas on the Colorado Plateau. This was especially true after the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel was completed in 1929.  The Union Pacific Railroad finally connected to Cedar City in 1923, and the city became a starting point for tourists of southern Utah in the era before everyone did their touring in their own cars. Below you can see several 1920s Union Pacific advertisements, originally from the Union Pacific Museum collection, that I found on the National Park Service website http://www.nps.gov/nr/twhp/wwwlps/lessons/64bryce/64facts4.htm. They describe a very different kind of loop tour from what I experienced, and I wish I could go back in time and do it the old-fashioned way, just to see what it was like.

As you can see from those ads, people rode trains and buses to Cedar City, and then Union Pacific buses would take them on a loop tour that included Zion, Bryce, the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and Cedar Breaks National Monument. These tours were operated by the Utah Parks Company, a subsidiary of the Union Pacific Railroad. Many loop tours required participants to spend the first night in Cedar City at El Escalante, a hotel owned by the Utah Parks Company. The company also built lodgings and concessions at the various stops on the tour, most of which were sold to the National Park Service when the Utah Parks Company ceased operating in 1972.

THE MOJAVE DESERT DRAWS US BACK IN

We didn’t stay in Cedar City for long. At the gas station we’d switched and I was now in the driver’s seat. We headed south on I-15, along the western edge of the Colorado Plateau. I didn’t get to take any pictures of the Hurricane Cliffs, stunning evidence of the Hurricane Fault, visible along the highway. But it was fun to be piloting the RV again, so I didn’t mind. Snow appeared on the ground in Utah; by the time we crossed over the state line into Arizona, and got to the Virgin River Gorge again, the snow was all gone. Less than an hour later, we were crossing the state line into Nevada. All around us was the familiar Mojave Desert flatness. Already it felt like our journey to red rock country had never happened.

At Mesquite we pulled over at a casino where we could park the RV overnight for free. I was already missing the Colorado Plateau, but I was greatly enjoying the warmth and clear skies of the desert, the warm breezes that caressed me and rustled nearby palm trees as we exited the RV. Our casino offered an all-you-can-eat buffet for one low price, and we dove into this at dinnertime, our appetites whetted by the day’s winter driving adventures. These buffets are a part of the ritual of staying at a casino overnight. As usual, we ended up full of strange and not necessarily compatible assortments of foods.

Bev went back to the RV, and I stayed at our booth for a couple of hours writing in my journal and eavesdropping on conversations nearby. Big screens throughout the dining area blared out Keno numbers and offered other games of chance, available in the casino area. I love eavesdropping in places far from home because people talk about things I'm not familiar with. The people around me were mostly local families who had come for the buffet, and their conversations mentioned places I'd never heard of. Occasionally a wisp of cigarette smoke drifted from tables in the smoking section. The atmosphere in this casino dining room was so different from the high pure air and sparse population of the high plateau country that I felt like I was dreaming. I’m back in the desert again, I thought. I always feel like I’m dreaming here.

The next day we left Mesquite soon after breakfast and sailed along on a mostly empty I-15, listening to podcasts and philosophizing. We passed Las Vegas, we passed the road to Valley of Fire State Park, and four hours later we were seating ourselves at Peggy Sue’s 50s Diner in Yermo, California, near Barstow. Though I’d never been to Peggy Sue’s before, this part of the country was familiar ground. I thought about all the times I'd traveled this road, and how exotic the Mojave had seemed to me when I'd never seen a desert before. Now it welcomed me back like a long-time friend whose eccentricities had lost the power to surprise me. 

Peggy Sue’s offered standard diner food and a chance to get caffeinated for the afternoon’s drive to Bakersfield, where we would spend the night in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The diner’s banana cream pie was delicious, its life-sized soda jerk mannequin was unsettling, and its outdoor dinosaur sculptures were hilarious. On the road again after lunch, we switched our driving playlist to jazz standards. I stared out the window as we passed scenery that seemed dull-colored in comparison with southern Utah. The hypnotic Mojave Desert was already trying to erase my memories of the Colorado Plateau.

We drove under a mind-bendingly bright sun that blasted away everything but the present moment. In my mind I talked to the sparse, strange landscape. Okay, you win, I said. I'll give in, get lost in daydreams again. But I was somewhere very different from this place just yesterday. And you can't make me forget it completely.

To see lots more photos of Bryce Canyon and the road to home, click here.