September is one of my favorite months to hike. Monsoon season is over, skies are clear, and daytime temperatures struggle to rise above 80 degrees even in the desert parks of Southern Utah. I'm on the road at a reasonable hour, not too early or too late, just right, as I stop at the Maverick in La Verkin to pick up a can of diet coke.
I smile at the dozen pump monstrosity on this corner, the large grocery store across the street, and the hotels just to the north. I grew up in Southern Utah, and I still have many relatives (on my mother's side) that live in this area. The last of my aunts passed away recently, and we held the funeral in the church behind the Maverick. I remember when my uncle sold produce across the street, where the grocery store now resides, and nothing but fields and the cemetery occupied the acres near this intersection.
Most things change, and that is what draws me each year on numerous occasions to Zion National Park. Of course, the park has changed over the years, but the mountains and those impressive, petrified dunes seem to be everlasting. Not true, but compared to my timeframe, eternal.
I pass through Virgin and notice another hillside excavated and leveled to build more homes, more evidence of the changing landscape. I turn left on the Kolob Terrace road and laugh again at the Wildflower glamping sign. [1] I swear to stop and take a picture of their exit sign that reads "Stay Wild." I know it's a play on their name; however, staying wild after spending a couple of hundred dollars to stay overnight in luxury covered wagons makes me chuckle every damn time.
I'm heading to the Northgate Peaks Trail, which I hiked a couple of months ago. Truthfully I'm not excited about the hike; however, I know the trail well, and I've had good climbs as of late, and I would like to reclimb Northgate Peak East for the umpteenth time. It's a beautiful hike and climb. I don't know why I feel so glum about the prospect.
As I look through the windshield, I spy Moqui Peak and think I might be better suited to climbing around on that peak when I spot Grapevine Trailhead just up ahead. I pull into the parking area. The trailhead serves as a jump-off spot for three hikes, two relatively easy and one (double falls) is a long hike of 11 miles and just as long a day according to the descriptions I've read. The trail also serves as entry to some extremely remote backcountry peaks that I would love to climb someday. I decide to scout the area and grab my pack.
“Grapevine Trail view of Couger Mountain” copyright BrickBarnBlog2022
I recall hiking this path as I sip on the remainder of my diet coke while walking along the trail. I didn't go very far; however, now I can't recall why I turned back those years ago. A few more feet and I come to a dead stop. I'm at the edge of a lava rock drop to the river below. Now I remember. I hiked to this point, looked down, and said, "oh hell no."
Today, I drain the rest of my drink and stuff the cup in my pack. Then, I begin the descent using hiking poles and hands, descending backward occasionally in tricky spots. The way is steep, the trail is in excellent condition given the terrain, and someone has done a fantastic job creating the path around and through the lava beds to the river below.
“Rocky Path” copyright BrickBarnBlog2022
The Left Fork of North Creek is most popular because The Subway slot canyon resides further upstream. I would put the exit for the Subway hike a little over a mile away. Most people cringe at the steep trail leaving the stream to arrive at the plateau above; however, compared to what I just descended, the Subway exit is the easier of the two.
I hike south along the riverbed, working toward the trail to Barrier Falls. I don't plan on hiking that trail today; I am just hoping to see where they join. The water is clear, and the shade provided by cottonwood trees growing along the water's edge drops the temperature another five degrees.
“Left Fork North Creek” copyright BrickBarnBlog2022
The water rushes and falls over lava boulders that have been washed smooth, and I jump from rock to rock and cross the stream. I don't get much further before the trail leaves the water's edge, and I turn around and hike back to where the Grapevine trail meets the river. A large natural pond marks the spot, and I sit down on a fallen log. Soon the water is too inviting, and I take off my shirt and shoes. I have hiking pants, so I can zip off the lower section of each leg and slip into the cold water. Yikes, it is freezing. I sit on a rock as memories sweep by of my childhood days spent in just such a stream bed located near Toquerville, UT, in Ash Creek.
Old Cradle was another stream bed pool; my cousins and I would run from shade to shade and walk along the water pipe to avoid wearing shoes. Frog hunting and slipping down natural water slides made for terrific childhood summers. I try to move around in the creek, but gone are my youth's tough foot pads and carefree movements. So instead, I hug a big rock as I sink lower into the water. Larger fish dart about being spooked from under the rock, and I marvel at their size. One is at least six inches in length, a monster for this small stream.
“Large natural pool” copyright BrickBarnBlog2022
I spent about an hour in and out of the water but never got above my waist very far; finally, I decided my farmer's tan had probably had enough sun for one day and slowly slipped back into my shoes and shirt—what a beautiful trip. I took my time hiking out, resting whenever there was shade, and I found the ascent was more straightforward than the descent. I'll chalk that up to my knee replacement and simply call it a glorious day.
“Entering (or in this case exiting) Zion Wilderness” copyright BrickBarnBlog2022
Written September 20, 2022
References:
[1] To each his own and because I took a jab the least, I can do is some free advertising for them. [Zion Wildflower Resort | Glamping Zion National Park Utah](https://www.zionwildflower.com/)