Less I forget the rugged nature of Slickrock Bench; a pack of coyotes lets out a series of yips and howls in the nearby valley. The morning is beautiful as I sip my tea and watch the sunrise. A few short weeks ago, I would be pushing it, trying to get to the trailhead before the daytime temperatures got too hot. Now I linger, drinking my tea, waiting for it to warm up a little before heading out.

I finally decided to turn the heater on last night. More correctly, early this morning. The covers were sufficient, the bed warm, but I needed to warm things up a bit if I ever wanted to get out of bed.

My tea drank, breakfast gone and I am packed and ready to go; when a lone, ATV drives down the road. The driver is wearing a hat and jacket that are orange, hunter orange, to be exact. It's late October, and that means deer hunting season. I forgot. I have nothing orange, red, or any other vibrant color. I think for a minute, then finally decide that it is doubtful anyone will be hunting in Rock Springs Creek bed.

I follow the creek bed, crossing back and forth as needed across the small stream. It is slow going, muddy in spots, but no flies are present, which was the significant deterrent on my last look and see. I eventually pick up a cattle trail cutting across the dirt embankments instead of following the water. The course saves me some mileage, but unfortunately, the path is sandy, slowing me down even more.

After the first mile, the trail drops permanently into the creek bed as the walls close in and the sandstone towers overhead. Rock springs Creek is not a slot canyon. It is narrow in spots but to the toon of 20 feet or so. The wall is high, the color muted to a light yellow with dark yellow, red, and black mixtures.

The canyon is beautiful, just not in the way an Antelope, Zebra, or Tunnel Slot canyon is gorgeous. I step over the fence marking a boundary, and soon the water flowing in a steady stream since the beginning of the hike stops. I mean ends, as in drained away in its tracks. I've been listening to the sounds of mini waterfalls all morning, so this comes as quite a surprise.

What appeared to be a steady stream has been swallowed up by the desert. The walking becomes more manageable, and I drop down into the creek bottom and pick up the pace.

More manageable is a relative term, meaning slightly more easygoing as I crunch along over dried clay. On a side note: if you are going to hike Rock Springs Creek, I would recommend waiting until fall. This canyon would be a mess in the springtime. The clay is so thick in places it is like walking on a hardened sidewalk made of concrete.

I pass two large canyons, consult my GPS, and realize I'm almost to Paria Canyon. The sandstone walls still tower overhead but have started to recede as Rock Springs Creek joins the Paria River Basin. As noted, Rock Springs is not currently adding any water to the flow, but there is a consistent stream of water in the Paria channel. The confluence area is massive. Stonewalls line the various chasms in every direction.

Before joining the Paria river, Rock Springs Creek makes a long sweeping turn northward before finally connecting with the Paria channel. The current path circumvents around Rincon Butte, a stone abutment separating the two channels. I follow the existing trail near the rock face and hike up onto a sagebrush-covered sandbar, searching for petroglyphs.

Ever-present modern graffiti informs me that I'm probably in the right place. Soon I notice the Bear Paw Petroglyph. Lower on the panel is a snake and arrows; I'm not 100 percent sure these are modern additions or not. I question if the petroglyph is a bear paw or something else, there are dots above the "toes" instead of claws. The ancient artists could draw "claw-shaped" depictions such as horns, etcetera, so I wonder if this is something else entirely. It sure looks like a bear paw, so we'll go with that.

I follow the Butte trail, and on the southwest corner, higher on the wall, is a beautiful panel of petroglyphs. I admire the board, free of modern additions due to its location. I continue to follow the trail, but I don't see any more ancient art.

Circling Rincon Butte, I head back upstream. The shifting sun makes the canyon come alive again, and I notice more bright colors than before.

Connecting once again with the cattle trail, I follow it to the end. The path leads to an easy access point on the opposite side of the sheep shearing meadow. A much better trailhead and access point, I have adjusted my Caltopo coordinates to reflect the new entrance to Rock Spring Creek.