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Travel: A hell of a place to lose a cow

The unearthly hoodoos of Bryce Canyon National Park create a surreal labyrinth of stone cut into southwestern Utah’s Paunsaugunt Plateau

"It's a hell of a place to lose a cow!"

Ebenezer Bryce, Scottish immigrant and early settler of Utah's Paria Valley, uttered these infamous words of the canyon that now bears his name. And although the 10 families that settled at the foot of what is now Bryce Canyon National Park in the mid-1870s had one of the world's most unusual and stunning natural features as their backyard, they were mostly indifferent to its ethereal beauty.

Concerned instead with matters such as farming the land, negotiating rough paths in ill-equipped wagons and generally surviving in the harsh climate of south central Utah's high Paunsaugunt Plateau, these hardy Mormon settlers had little use for Mother Nature's colourful limestone maze so near to their newly acquired land.

The short drive from Zion up to Bryce took us through the brilliantly coloured Red Canyon. Parts of Bryce Canyon National Park sit at over 9,000 feet elevation, and as it was only April the weather promised to be chilly. As we paid the entrance fee of $25 and entered the park, my mood was bleak. Snow still covered much of the ground making most of the hiking trails inaccessible and the scenery at the park's entrance was uninspiring. The campsite was set among the pine trees and had not much to distinguish it from those in B.C. Paying the additional $15 camping fee, I set my tent up next to a dirty snow bank while wondering if it had been worth coming at all. I had not, after all, just driven south for three solid days to camp in the snow!

Bryce Canyon is, in fact, not a canyon at all but a series of 14 massive amphitheatres cut into the limestone to depths of over 1,000 feet. Entering the small national park, one could be excused for assuming that there was nothing remarkable about the landscape at all. After all, it was only a high, tree-clad plateau, much like anywhere else.

In 1916, the Syrett family made just that oversight. After the birth of their first child, the couple selected a remote quarter section on which to homestead and start a ranch. Unbeknownst to them, they were a mere three and a half miles from the canyon rim. It was six weeks before a rancher took them to the spot where the world drops away into an ethereal labyrinth of hoodoos and slot canyons, soaring fins of stone and naturally formed windows that glowed in unlikely hues of pink and orange. The Syretts were spellbound and soon began inviting their friends to witness Mother Nature's unusual creation.

Meanwhile, back in the 1870s, homesteaders were making a go of it at the canyon's base, building irrigation ditches in order that their crops and livestock might drink. Ebenezer was a key figure in the construction of a road that terminated at one of the canyon's amphitheatres and thus came to be known as "Bryce's Canyon." The family soon departed for Arizona's warmer climes, but their name remains with the canyon today.

In 1919, Bryce Canyon received its first group of tourists. In those days it must have been a long, arduous journey from Salt Lake City. The Syretts erected a tent, served a noon meal and later, brought beds out to the canyon rim so that the sightseers might sleep beneath the pines. Surely, when they selected the land for their ranch, the Syretts had no notion that in five years time they would be running a lodge! In the spring of 1920, they built Tourist's Rest, a 30 by 71 foot lodge of sawed logs whose double front doors were used as a guest register into which visitors carved their names. Ten extra cabins were soon built, as well as an open air dance platform. Bryce Canyon had officially become a tourist attraction and was declared a national park in 1928.

Our fees paid and the tent set up among the pine trees and piles of melting snow, we were ready to finally check out the canyon. Donning jackets and toques, we headed for the rim and what I had come to consider my $40 view. Unless I was actually able to hike among the hoodoos, I could not imagine that I would get my money's worth!

Two world's meet at Bryce Canyon's Rim Trail which follows the top of the canyon for almost 10 kilometres. Look one way and the landscape is quite average; mostly flat, loosely clad with pine trees, much like a forest anywhere else. Look the other and the world falls away into a panoramic fairyland that defies description. The Queen's Garden trail looked to be clear of snow and we descended into the unearthly labyrinth of hoodoos that stretched as far as the eye could see. Forces of erosion, ice and water have formed the unlikely geography of Bryce. Pillars of limestone towered above one side of the trail while on the other, narrow fins of rock descended steeply. It was like navigating an enormous natural maze that seemed to have no end and around every corner lurked a new and unusual feature, glowing in hues of orange and pink in the weak April sunshine.

To stand on the rim and gaze upon nature's creation was one thing; to actually walk among the hoodoos was quite another. Like stepping onto another planet, one descends into a surreal world of eroding limestone that you can reach out and touch. All else disappears till there is nothing left but towering orange spires still lightly dusted with snow, soaring cliffs and perhaps the odd pleasing little archway through which one can pass. A few hours of wandering, spellbound among the hoodoos was an experience unlike any other. After a fairly thorough exploration of the Queen's Garden and Bryce's many other lofty viewpoints, I was certain about two things: One, I had definitely gotten my $40 worth, and two, I was in total agreement with Ebenezer; Bryce Canyon would indeed be a hell of a place to lose a cow!