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Travel: Discovering Zion

The stately red cliffs of Zion Canyon are one of southern Utah’s most popular destinations
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The national parks of southern Utah have a timeless, prehistoric feel that conjure images of Fred Flintstone and Brontosaurus Rex. Soaring rock formations glow in unearthly hues of pink and orange while unlikely spires of sandstone jut skyward, their shape and form changing slowly with the weather. Hardy desert plants cling to the soil, well adapted to both the blistering heat of summer and the sharp chill of night. On the high desert plateaus, snow falls in winter and temperatures have been known to reach a bone chilling 30 degrees below zero.

Seeking warmer climes and a respite from British Columbia's chilly April rain we hit the road and pointed the car south. Heading through the US, Highway 93 is a pleasant alternative to the uninspiring interstate. The big skies and broad, rolling valleys of Montana are framed by distant snowy peaks. Towns, well kept and lovingly restored, recall a time before freeways and motorcars. Stately farmhouses punctuate the hills and between settlements, horses and cattle graze beneath a chilly sky.

Our first destination was Zion National Park, located in the southwest corner of Utah and over 2,000 kilometres away. As we headed south, Highway 93 passed dramatically into Idaho atop a snowy mountain pass before descending into a picturesque valley where stately rock formations flanked a quietly meandering river. Grand villas, dramatically situated on sunny hillsides or beneath soaring cliffs, dotted immaculately kept farmland. Weather ranged from near freezing to pleasant and warm.

Before long, the land flattened into a parched desert clad in hardy sagebrush and tumbling tumbleweeds. Mysterious buildings in the distance and restricted access roads hinted at top secret government operations in a harsh and unforgiving land. There even existed a place with the curious name of Atomic City. A strong wind battered our small car as we hurried through, heading toward the tangle of crowded freeways that bypass Salt Lake City.

After three solid days in the car climbing snowy mountain passes, crossing harsh windswept deserts and negotiating freeways of alarming capacity, we came upon a timeless land of soaring red cliffs and sunshine. At Zion one enters a world of towering Navajo Sandstone, the campsite set in the bowels of a narrow, shaded canyon formed by the lazily flowing Virgin River. The grandeur of the place immediately assured me that it had, indeed, been worth the drive.

The first white settlers of Zion Canyon arrived in the mid 1800s. On the banks of the Virgin River, flanked by majestic cliffs that glow red in the twilight, Mormon farmers from the Salt Lake area grew things like corn and tobacco and planted fruit trees. These pioneers named the area Zion, a Hebrew word, meaning "place of peace and relaxation."

Zion could still be considered just that if one can manage to escape the hordes that descend upon it. For millennia, the Virgin River has been quietly cutting through the soft, brilliantly coloured Navajo sandstone to create Zion Canyon, a deep chasm with sheer walls soaring to over 700 metres. By the 1990s, over two and a half million tourists annually were driving their cars and RVs down the 10 kilometre dead end road into the narrow gorge. Peace and relaxation within the stately walls of Zion Canyon had most certainly been replaced by traffic jams and exhaust fumes.

In the relative peace of the quiet but full campsite, we set up our tents in the shade of the leafy trees that follow the course of the Virgin River. Next morning, after the blazing sun finally began to peak its face above the towering canyon walls relieving the early morning chill, we set out to explore the park. These days, this means leaving the car behind and catching the bus. A very effective fleet of propane-powered shuttles now service the canyon, departing every five to 10 minutes. Free of charge, these buses stop at all the trailheads and natural features and one is free to hop on and off all day. Cars are no longer permitted and the tranquility of yesteryear has been restored to Zion Canyon.

Part of the Colorado Plateau, the Zion Canyon is a 24-kilometre chasm in the earth compliments of the quiet and unassuming Virgin River. At kilometre 10 the road ends and the canyon narrows, leaving room only for the river and the adventurous. The Zion Narrows hike is not for everyone. More of a wade through the river than a trail, the hike takes you deep within the shaded canyon, to where the walls narrow to a mere six metres! But watch out for the Virgin River. She may seem harmless but her meek and docile temperament can change in an instant to that of a raging monster, charging through the canyon and taking with her anything that stands in her course.

All day we explored the bowels of the shaded canyon floor, hopping on and off the bus at leisure. We traversed a steep canyon wall on an impressive set of tight switchbacks known as Walter's Wiggles; we lunched atop a lofty mesa with expansive views of the valley below; we rested beneath shade trees on the banks of the Virgin River and cooled our aching feet in her clear waters. The park attracts all sorts, from the hardcore adventurers heading into The Narrows with overstuffed backpacks to well dressed folks in shiny shoes who look as though they just stepped off a city sidewalk.

We left Zion National Park via the eastern access and the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel. Once the longest in the USA, the tunnel is an incredible feat of engineering that winds its way through a massive rock wall for a distance of 1,711 metres. Constructed in the late 1920s at a cost of $500, 000, the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel creates an impressive entrance to Zion and provides a quick route to some of Utah's other parks. Today, however, her girth is insufficient for modern RVs and those driving them must pay for a tunnel escort, as two-way traffic must be halted to allow the large vehicles to pass through.

Leaving behind the warm, sun soaked canyon, we pointed the car east toward Bryce Canyon, another of southern Utah's curious, prehistoric features where one could imagine that dinosaurs still roam. Set atop a high desert plateau, the nights promised to be chilly, even at this southerly latitude. But despite that, I was determined to check out the place whose namesake, Ebenezer Bryce, an early settler of the area, uttered the famous quote about the unusual landscape that is now Bryce Canyon National Park:

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

Wonder why that would be....