The Hayduke Trail, days 1-5
Saturday, March 12, 2022
Dear Peder,
It’s 8:15pm on Day 1 of the Hayduke Trail. I'm about 14 miles into a 17 mile day. It’s going to be at least another two hours before I make it to the Lower Courthouse Wash campsite where I have a reservation. The route starts out at the northern boundary of Arches national park and follows a dirt road for about five miles before heading cross country to follow the western boundary of the park to the head of Willow Spring Wash. Wash is a pretty good name for baby-canyon and lucky enough this one even has water! The sandstone moonscapes here create some incredible surfaces to walk across. Holes of every size and shape at every angle on a variety of surfaces pocket the route. Many are large enough to fit a trail crew in.
After climbing down several dry pour-offs, I noticed mosquitoes and other insects flying around me– a sure sign of water nearby. Sure enough as I crest the next drop, I hear a plop as a large frog jumps into a pool of safety. Then another, and another, plop, plop.
By nightfall I was still six miles short of my permitted campsite. My estimation of two hours was very generous. I love night hiking, it's an excellent way to squeeze miles out of a day if your body is up for it. Night miles are also a necessity if you want to keep pace with mileages found on summer thru-hikes (I'm looking at you, forty-mile days on the PCT). But route finding in the dark takes dead reckoning to a whole new level. On the Grand Enchantment Trail, most night hiking was in open arroyos, or on ranching roads. My first night on the Hayduke has been filled with miles of dense willow thickets— every step a crash. Some thickets of willow were so dense that I could rarely see more than six or seven feet ahead of me. Half an hour into this dance of high-stepping and head-ducking, I rammed my knee into the end of a large dead tree laying across the wash. Several pieces of wood lodged deep into my knee, and would remain there for over a week until I noticed the resulting infection and squeezed them out 120 miles later. Did I mention it was freezing? There was still plenty of wet walking and quick sand, but courthouse creek occasionally dried out or fanned out into a half dozen dry beds, all packed thick with willows and some desert plant with dozens of spiked seed pods the size of almonds. These clung to every stitch of fabric I had from the waist down. After two hours of slow and grueling progress, I gave up and laid out my bedroll on a plateau overlooking the wash. The next morning I was delighted to find that the worst of the bushwhacking was over.
One advantage of night time lows in the teens is that if you’re walking in a wash with an abundance of water-saturated sand, the sand freezes and becomes rock hard. The morning of day two made for some quick miles before navigating a dozen or so creek crossings via cottonwood branches placed haphazardly over chest-deep water with an icy shield across its surface. Eventually the sand thawed out and my route actually joined a trail in lower Courthouse Wash. By lunch I had emerged at a road on the south side of Arches National Park and began the roadwalk into Moab to resupply for the next section. I hit the grocery store, got a short ride back to my route, and continued on. The rest of day two consisted of a twenty mile road-walk out from Moab through Kane springs up to Hurrah Pass. There was plenty of traffic, even well after the road turned to dirt. I walked past many boulders covered in petroglyphs. It kept the route interesting. I pitched my tarp on top of Hurrah pass and hunkered down for a light shower and strong winds that battered me all night. There were no windbreaks anywhere near the pass, I couldn’t walk any further, and it was hard enough finding a flat spot I could actually wedge my tent stakes in. Several popped out throughout the night and I scrambled to collect rocks large enough to weigh down my guylines and keep me dry.
Monday, March 14, 2022
Today I followed the Colorado River through Bears Ears National Monument, Meander Canyon, Horsethief Canyon, Rustler Canyon, and LittleSpringCanyon. About half of the day was spent following 4x4 roads, often leap-frogging with groups of overlanders.They would of course pass me on the flat parts, but then they would hit a technical section and inevitably one of them would become stuck on some major feature while I waved and walked past. I went on like this with one group five or six times over the course of about 8 miles. They offered me a ride every time, I told them if they wanted me to drive so they could try hiking, I would help them out. I don’t think they got it. Eventually I stopped for lunch under an overhanging boulder and helped myself to a tuna, cheese, and jalapeno tortilla. They passed me one last time and I had the route all to myself for another mile before pulling off the road and dropping below the rim of Meander Canyon. This descent included the first of countless huge pour-offs that required tossing my backpack down ten or fifteen feet so I could more effectively down-climb and eventually drop to the floor below. There’s something unsettling about throwing your backpack with all of your food and water into a hole you’re not quite sure you can climb down– or back up.
Tuesday, March 15, 2022
The problem with trying to write consistently while on a thruhike is, I don't really stop. From first consciousness in the morning to laying out my bedroll hours after nightfall, I'm in constant motion. Even my breaks involve snacking, filtering water, reviewing maps, and reading the guide book. I’m camped outside the Needles Outpost of Canyonlands National Park. The outpost is privately run and exists on an inholding of state trust land adjacent to the park. I have a package with three days of food waiting for me there. I'm considering taking a rest day tomorrow to attempt to get some new shoes delivered to me from Moab. These Altra Superiors are just too thin and minimalist for all the extra weight I'm carrying on this network of sandstone dirt roads.
I think I hiked close to 28 or 30 miles today. I camped last night at the top of a canyon that led down to Lockhart Canyon. Amazingly, there was a road in Lockhart Canyon and the route joined it for four or five miles. I took the opportunity to read the first half of Desert Cabal by Amy Irving while on this roadwalk. It's a direct response to Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire. It's written in second person, and she doesn't pull any punches, though she clearly has a certain reverence for him. I was so enthralled with my reading that I missed my turn off the road and into a canyon leading down to Indian Creek. I only overshot it by a mile or so, and I managed to follow a different canyon down to the creek.
