Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

The vibe was weird in fall 2021. We’d had a “hot vaxx summer” wrested from us by, you know, reality, and I started to think about how backpacking was something I wanted to do for as long as I could, whether we were forced to do things outdoors forever or not. So maybe it was time to do something more ambitious than weekend overnights.

After years of consulting his website occasionally for the right ratio of beans and rice for the most legendary backpacking recipe, I decided to apply for a guided trip with Andrew Skurka. The pitch to Jordan was that we’d learn some hard-won skills more quickly, try our hand navigating off trail with a safety net, and hike someplace different from the rivers and the lakes that we’re used to.

By January we were accepted and put in a group with six other people. They were all older than us by a couple decades and had all done extremely cool things like, oh, the Iditarod (a few times), or quitting their job and hiking the Colorado Trail, or leading training hikes basically every weekend in the Rockies. Our guides would be Skurka himself and Katie Gerber, who also has an impressive resume of thru hikes and guiding and as I learned is a very cool person.

Our training commenced: I re-joined the gym and dipped out of work early to sweat into a mask three days a week, stepped up my daily yoga routine, quit drinking (well, for a month), and we hiked every weekend and backpacked at least monthly all winter, on trips with “bigger” stats than Utah. (I hadn’t realized yet how little mileage would matter off-trail.)

We invested in some new and used gear (like sun gloves and a warmer quilt), field-tested our snacks (s&p potato chips were the winner for me, Tony’s chocolate for Jordan), cleaned and repaired our tried-and-true items, and then eventually late April came around and it was time to go. We flew out to Las Vegas, Jordan’s hometown, on a Saturday, spent the weekend living it up with dear friends Betty and Tim, then set off for Escalante, Utah, on Monday morning.

Monday (Day 0)

After a long drive in the van we borrowed from Jordan’s grandma (GMAS VAN), we arrived and unpacked and re-packed at the charming Escalante Outfitters.

Some of the group gathered for dinner before peeling off for early bedtime. About four of them asked us if we were married before we even got on trail. One hiker, Denise, had brought her husband Neil along. He would make base camp and do day hikes while we were out there. I was reassured of his safe return via Garmin every evening.

Since we had to meet up before anyplace opened for breakfast the next day, I bought a decadent slice of lemon berry cake for the morning and Jordan pledged to get up in time to make me hot coffee on our camp stove. The best. Our little cabin had the last mattress we’d enjoy for a while and I savored it. Jordan was too excited to sleep well.

Tuesday (Day 1) 7.6 miles

All five groups of eight clients plus ten guides met at the town park bright and early — in fact, we were among the last people there despite arriving at the appointed time. Everyone pulled everything out of their pack and Katie checked it over and made each person remove or justify heavier luxuries (like a Kindle or a huge first-aid kit). Jordan stowed his extra paracord away. We distributed shared food items and I got the spice kit. My pack weighed just under 23 pounds with two liters of water to start; Jordan’s was about 26 pounds.

Utah 2B 2022: Fresh and clean! Skurka, me, Jordan, Randy, Eric, Bart, Denise, Rod, Robbie and Katie

We were all fresh and giddy, joking and high-energy, really ready to start WALKING. After a group “before” photo we said our goodbyes to Neil and hit the dusty trail by 9:30 a.m. …

Our first river crossing, about 100 feet into the trip

… and we crossed the Escalante River pretty much instantly, literally getting our feet wet. Spirits were high and our pace was fast at first. I wondered if any of my jokes were landing with each person ahead of or behind me in our line of 10, and tried to put together names, backs of heads, and biographical sketches: the high gray ponytail used to run a women’s boutique in Albuquerque, the plaid button shirt lives in Texas and has three sons, the purple pack and blue shirt belongs to Jordan and the blue shirt and gray pack to Andrew. Anytime I’d stop for a picture I worried about causing a pile-up so I stayed near the back to document the wildflowers and dramatic rocks.

Soon we were led to a little sort of grotto with mint and watercress growing below a spring. I stuck some mint leaves in my pocket “for later” which wilted quickly but smelled lovely in the meantime. Then the guides led us to a cave with pictographs, petroglyphs, and a sort of oven with corn cobs still in it. We snacked and theorized about what it was like to live here then. In many senses the place is wild and all, but people have lived here a good long time.

Next we came up out of the riverbed and onto the rim, in search of a pothole for water. The guides left navigating up to us and I watched it get sorted from the sidelines. At this point we were really just trying to match our printed topographical maps to what we saw in front of us. Katie told us green on the map meant enough vegetation that 40 men could hide in an acre or something like that and while that may not be true it really amused me.

Refreshing! (Photo by Randy)

A pothole is a depression in the sandstone that holds onto water well past monsoon season; it is fed by rainfall and very gradually gets larger as water and chemistry do their work. Things do live in them — small, ancient things — and they are thought of as “Mesozoic lifeboat niches” according to some geology website I just looked at. We gathered three liters each: one for dinner, one to drink, and one for breakfast. The pothole water did not taste great, but it was wet and we were grateful to have it.

On slickrock, the word is “trust your shoes”

Slickrock is the result of petrified sand dunes, remains of ancient seas trapped under rock that has since eroded away. It’s often a surface level enough for walking (though by no means flat), and the sandstone can be strikingly hexagonal or piled like croissant layers that crumble away. Although our trail shoes felt practically (blessedly) sticky on it, the cowpokes on horseshoes, wagon wheels or cowboy boots found it slippery, hence the name.

That night we made camp on the rim of the canyon. Andrew learned about Jordan’s contraband guyline and decided to hold a knot-tying clinic. He cut the cord into usable lengths, burned the ends closed, then we sat in a circle tying bowlines on our big toes over and over together.

Eric and Randy demonstrating proper form overseen by Katie

At dinner there was “the display of the butter.” Andrew was passionate that we understand that our packs would keep perishable food largely temperature-controlled. I’ve hiked with cheese but wouldn’t have tried to bring enough delicious cheese and butter for a week of meals. This will change my life from now on.

For some reason, I got to make the call on the next day’s breakfast and painstakingly walked people through my process (“well, we don’t want oats again so soon … and I really want to save cheesy potatoes for a special occasion … so I think we should go with Southwest egg burritos”). I was tired enough that this was slightly hilarious to me.

A view from Camp 1

As the sun fell below the horizon, we got a pink-purple dusk, sky hazy from big fires in New Mexico. Jordan was a little weepy from sleep deprivation and probably also natural beauty and gratitude. He was clearly loving this experience so much and I was so happy about that after all our months of planning and preparing and worrying. On this first day, I felt silly for having worried as much as I had about keeping up with the group.

We cowboy camped (that is, without a tent) and felt warm under the cloud cover in nice cozy quilts.

Wildlife report: a gopher snake, tent moth caterpillars dropping from leafed-out cottonwoods, lizards of course, and hummingbirds.

Wednesday (Day 2) 9.24 miles

We woke up before dawn and had packs on as it broke around 6:45 a.m. Our first aim was a nipple, where we stopped for breakfast. Jordan was just getting praise for how great his powdered scrambled eggs looked when he burned the bottom of them. So now our pot is christened.

Up to the molar

On this day we chose landmarks and named them and then hiked from one to another: nipple to molar to beehive, practicing route-finding through washes and across slickrock and sand. Finding a route up to the saddle took collective deliberation. We stood at the bottom to take it all in, pick out potential routes up, and vote: A, B, or C. I think we tried B, but it “didn’t go” and the plan shifted. (Jordan was the only one who picked the one we ended up on.) It was a little steep.

Sometimes hiking shaded into climbing

Up top, it was another a long slog in the sun over sand, trying to match the footprints of the person ahead of me so I didn’t bust the cryptobiotic soil, a crust of algae and bacteria and fungi that is alive and fragile and holds the sand down to provide habitat and all that. Turns out this bench was also a slight incline, enough with the sand to feel punishing, and I admit I cried a little bit in frustration.

At last we found a small cliff providing a bit of shade and took lunch. One of our group found a perfectly round Moqui marble (an iron-oxide/sandstone rock concretion) on the Navajo sandstone. Eric took a nap which I greatly admired.

Photo by Bart

The last two miles or so of the day were a little brutal for me. I probably hadn’t eaten enough, I ran out of water, it was kind of hot, PMS, and that sand, and I lost the group a few times and stood there tiredly panicking. Near the very end I got separated from the group and we were close enough to a well-used campsite that following tracks got me even more turned around. When I sighted them they were about 60 feet down a cliff. Jordan helped me basically tumble down.

I was lovingly banished to a shady rock with a bottle of cold clean water to recover and Denise joined me to chat. I was still sniffling but gradually the conversation and rest calmed me down and never gave me the chance to start spiraling. Later when we all shared high and low points for the day she mentioned our conversation and I was so moved I started getting teary again. Jeez.

Everyone rinsed their clothes and selves at the creek in turn. One member of our group fell while washing up solo and came back to the group with their head gushing blood. For a minute it was VERY scary, but Andrew and Katie fixed them up (with everyone offering various items from their big first-aid kits) with a neon-green bandage looking like a sweat band, which honestly looked great with their bright pink base layer. “Sweating to the oldies!” Randy yelled, I laughed. Andrew exchanged texts with another guide (an MD) who advised that the hiker could stay.

View from Camp 2 or thereabouts

We moved up to the slickrock for dinner and camp, where it was windy but views were gorgeous. Jordan probably added a mile just chasing after people’s loose maps and sit pads.

A few people reassured me that the group doesn’t mind my pace when it’s slower, but anxieties remained because I’d been separated earlier when I was feeling least resilient. I hoped each day would just get easier as I got more practice, more perspective and less food and taco seasoning to haul.

Wildlife report: Bats out at bedtime!

Thursday (Day 3) 8.31 miles

I slept fitfully out in the open and Jordan gave up on sleep completely at 5 a.m. We did some tough elevation gain before breakfast, then trudged through more sand. The pace Jordan and the taller guys set was so fast. I wasn’t even sore or tired. I was just really in my head about being in the back and then disappointed in myself for not being present: stuck in a loop.

When I did look up from my feet, it was magic. We were traversing dramatic white sandstone with pinyon and pines tucked into sharp the little canyons along watercourses, passing tall Mormon serviceberry bushes in flower and furry purple milkvetch, showy red gilia, tall touristplant, and bushy beautiful prairie rockets. Even cacti were blooming. It’s incredible to think that in a place so dry that the violence of water and wind carved this all up, creating little islands of sand and soil for those delicate flowers, and that it’s been going on basically forever.

After snacking and a map and compass lesson, we split up and I was in the slower group. Although the faster group had been sold a hike to a waterfall they got held up navigating, so instead we met at a cave along a creek filled with gorgeous pictographs and petroglyphs and Mormon cowboy graffiti. We got just a little water and headed to another site with indigenous evidence.

After that our plan was to head to camp and split up for rest or an optional side hike. We ran out of water, all of us, as planned — and then got to a creek with no water in it. Randy suggested making the 1.2 miles to the confluence of another creek and back into the planned side hike and so our most-stalwart group members emptied their packs, filled them with empty water bottles, and headed out. Jordan said this walk to water was the thirstiest he’d ever been in his life.

Back at camp, I rested in the pine duff and sand and read for a while. It was windy again here, and wind + sand is no fun. At this point I journaled that I think this trip has ruined the entire concept of the beach for me but sitting here at my desk writing I think I’ll try to give it another shot.

Before dinner I got a sneak preview of the next morning’s challenge along with Jordan, Denise and Robbie — up 200 feet of slickrock and starting with something like a 50- to 70-degree incline. There were spots with handholds and footholds and some where we just had to trust our shoes and stay vertical. Jordan was selected to go up early in the group the next morning as a spotter to haul up packs and people if they needed it. The guides could tell he likes helping.

Dinner was peanut noodles: excellent. In yet another small act of heroism, Denise handed me a Belvita biscuit that I kept to eat before we scaled that cliff.

Camp 3, sheltered from the wind

Jordan set up our shelter at this site under a spreading tree to block the wind. As I wrote in my journal that night before bed, “I can certainly do three more days of this. I just need to quit crying.”

Wildlife sightings: two fighter jets

Friday (Day 4) 6.93 miles

Well, I got a hole in my sleeping pad — pine needles. It was a slow leak, so it didn’t wake me up more than the general sleeping on the ground thing does usually.

As promised, just before dawn we crashed through the brush across the dry creek and confronted a wall to climb up. Jordan pulled packs up and lent hands to others hauling themselves up. At one point he slid about 10 feet and later said it was scary but then he realized the consequences of slipping really weren’t that bad so it turns out it was very good, actually. Once I got up top I felt like I could use a cigarette.

My one blurry picture from the top of all that

We climbed up to another saddle for glamor shots, then had cacio e pepe oatmeal for breakfast, which was so good. We needed water fairly soon after — Jordan and a few others ran down a wash to fill us up again.

Somewhere along the way, Andrew suggested keeping an eye out for arrowheads, since he’d once found several in a wash like that one. Jordan reached to the ground and said, “Like this one?” and showed him a very nearly intact arrowhead. LOL.

Sunrise

Next, we navigated using our GPS apps to a place with pottery and arrowheads over more blasted sandy stretches. I led for a little while and got frustrated when the group moved past me if I spent more than a few seconds getting my bearings (literally or metaphorically). And then I got over it and kept walking.

Down in the wet

After lunch we descended 200 feet into Death Hollow Creek, which is gorgeous despite the spooky name. It took nearly an hour route finding to get down, carefully. Denise got vertigo for a bit and I tried to be helpful. I got offered help and got a little mad about it.

Back at camp we rested for a while and got a sleep system clinic (taking everything out of your pack makes it faster to repack in the morning!). Most of us then went off scrambling around to look for the next day’s exit (does it go?) and found a steep canyon with huge potholes lined by tall pines. It was a bit more quiet with a smaller group and we all agreed it was magical. The scrambles here were easier without a pack, and having rested. It built my confidence for the rest of the trip. I took offered help without getting too mad about it either.

A spooky hole in the pothole! Sun glistening on the water! More sand! More rocks!

When we returned, Rod announced that GDP had fallen precipitously in whatever quarter it was. Along with not really understanding the implications, I pretended I hadn’t heard any news from outside. Denise and I mentioned our sleeping pads had holes in them and after a very brief rest, Andrew took them all the way back down to a pothole to find the holes. What a guide!

We had the legendary beans and rice at dinner, and talked about politics, which is always a Thing for me because I do know a lot from my work but don’t want to be a know-it-all. I think the conversation was the best of both worlds: nearly everyone had something to say, and no one was trying to “win.”

Camp 4 at sunset

After dark, I had a big cathartic cry back at our camp site, a ways away from the others, and Jordan finally seemed frustrated with me. “Still happy to be here,” I wrote, having wrung myself out a bit.

Andrew came by to talk about how we were doing (fine! really! I claimed) and I admitted I’m a crier even when I’m having a generally excellent time. If you’ve hiked with me you have probably asked yourself whether I even enjoy it and I can swear on my life that I do, I just cry easy. I showed him some pictures of Oprah (my cat) and realized I missed her.

Wildlife report: another snake, bats at dusk again, Monarch butterflies, pictures of Oprah

Saturday (Day 5) 8.41 miles, +4,826′

If you’re reading this for our engagement story I’m sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoyed reading about ROCKS and CRYING in the meantime. We woke up before dawn again on the slickrock (gosh, how do I write this to make it not sound the same every day, it wasn’t), with two bright planets hanging together in the blue-purple sky. That morning my contact lens flew off my finger when I tried to put it in, oh that wind.

The best part of waking uuuuup!

Once again we started with a bit of a climb, once again powered by Denise’s Belvita biscuits. We hiked until the sun was up enough to warm us and found what was essentially a stone amphitheater for our chocolate banana oatmeal (though somehow I forgot the dried bananas).

The hair is getting very trail-y by this point

Next we hiked with our own navigation skills and GPS to an arrowhead cache along a wash. After either searching diligently for more arrowheads and points (Jordan, who succeeded) or giving up and chilling (me), we all admired the collection, Andrew tucked them back away, and we put packs back on.

Heart eyes emoji

As I pulled up last at the saddle, Andrew had just remarked casually that he wouldn’t mind climbing a prominence we saw ahead (the highest point in the distance below). We all took some bearings on it for practice, then … decided to really try to do it. Optional side hike time!

Sure let’s climb it! Photo by Randy I think

First things first: we had to find our way 200 feet down to the creek. Turns out that took contouring along what Andrew (cheekily??) called a “sidewalk,” a narrow strip of rock that was totally exposed on one side. To my eye, a fall here would probably have Consequences. It was a miraculous footpath, in a way, on a feature that was otherwise to steep to traverse, but scary nonetheless. At one moment I started to panic but I kept moving and tried hard to not look down — I even pulled my sun hoodie to cover my peripheral so I wouldn’t get vertigo — got vertigo for a second anyway, and then did it. Another moment when I really, really wanted a cigarette.

Rodney’s picture of the sidewalk

Down at the creek, we refilled our water, dropped our packs (though we loaded Jordan, the guides and a few others with our water and lunches). Then: 700 feet up! And as with most of the trip so far, we had to find our own way. Partway through one group member wanted to turn back, but decided not to. It was a little scary in places. I had at least a half-second of vertigo then caught my breath and did the thing and was very proud and happy and ate a dozen Sour Patch Children to celebrate.

I’ve said less about the crew than I should. They were so important to the whole thing. On this day we mixed it up more and a few things stood out: Randy always had truly funny dad jokes. Rod proudly showed me his daughter’s beautiful art. Denise stuck by me a lot that day in particular, which I was grateful for, and we talked about her Las Vegas wedding (young Elvis costs extra). Andrew admiringly examined Jordan’s calluses (which Jordan claimed were thicker than the “ultralight camp shoes” a few people brought). Katie said so many things I related to I couldn’t even count them up here, and clued me in about the croissant-making technology available to professional bakers. Eric gave me some solid career advice. I know Bart had some wild stories but he’d only allude to them — someday I’ll hear the gritty flower-child details. And Robbie impressed me at every turn with her toughness and knowledge.

Oop!

At the top we took a lingering lunch with huge views and a very happy crew. To a person glad we had all made it up there together. Jordan found a ledge strongly resembling a chair and exfoliated his feet on a sandstone rock.

We found a much easier way back down (which is wonderful because every tough ascent was scarier coming down, at least for me) to where we’d left our packs and then the creek again. Time for the bad news: camp was about 500 feet up, steep (see the main image on this post), with a few challenging scrambles. It was a tough ask at the end of the day, but we rallied. On the way up I asked Jordan to describe the sandwich he had the night before we left to distract myself, but he couldn’t remember details and so my attempts at food imagination were foiled and I felt too weird about it to ask anyone else.

After dinner Rod talked about his Mormon ancestors and the story of Hole in the Rock Road, and Jordan shared the shocking story of his first job. I felt strong all day and never cried. I even shared that as my high point for the day even though I’m sure that was awkward for everybody.

The trip vibe was starting to get loose — our second-to-last night together. Sort of half “get me out of here and get me a damn burger” and half “I can’t believe this could all be over so soon.” Snacks were freely shared, and I lingered watching the sun set at camp. It was almost the last chance to savor it all.

View of Camp 5

There was more learning to do tomorrow. We’d be starting down to the creek and following it a long way, which I thought might be a nice change of pace compared to all those big climbs. We’d probably camp in sand, tragically, but then: a short hike out for showers, beers, and glorious food.

As dark came on slowly, Jordan and I got cozy in our quilts. Since they weren’t as constricting as sleeping bags we could hold hands. Way back when I put in my application I noted that I was “thinking about” proposing on the trip. Jordan and I talked about marriage here and there and it seemed it was up to me to decide if I wanted to really make it legal and all. Now we had just two nights left on the trip, I’d felt good and strong and happy all day … so it was time to just do it and stop being a nervous wreck.

And then I realized Jordan had taken a Benadryl to help him sleep and panicked. First I asked him if he was still awake, and then I asked him if he wanted to get married. He said are you sure? And I said yes and then I broke my streak and we both cried. And slept really well under only the sky.

Sunday (Day 6) 14 miles

Once again, we were up before dawn, and came down the slick rock for once to find a sunny spot for breakfast before we’d descend into the steep and shady canyon for the remainder of our trip. On the way Jordan told Andrew that I had proposed and so after everyone had their coffee and cheesy potatoes ready Andrew said he had an announcement.

“Another week?!” Denise said, and we all laughed, and then he pitched it to Jordan who shared the news. They were excited, they cheered! I cried! Jokes were made and after breakfast Denise and Robbie gave us hugs. We took the corny photo below.

I hadn’t been sure I wanted to propose around a bunch of strangers, but in the end I’m glad I did. It was just honest excitement and no expectation from the crew, who by then I counted as friends. And we got some time to live with the idea of getting married sort of privately before we told the world and got asked about dates and guest lists and so on.

Then we switch-backed down 400 feet to the rest of our day: Steep red-and-black canyon walls framing a cool creek, clear spectacular watercourses on either side that surely became stunning waterfalls in monsoon season, little neon-green ferns and strong leafed-out cottonwoods, bright yellow seep monkeyflower dripping off cliffs, fish swimming upstream. We plowed right into the cool creek, shoes and socks on, and it was everyone’s highlight of the day.

A wet day

I kept up with the group much more easily at last (and Denise made it a point to stay with me) and it never got too hot down in the canyon. And I was feeling nice and celebratory and antsy to be out and tell the world about my fiance and my adventure (while eating half a pizza).

The last of my Cheetos were dispatched here

Although the air and water were a bit chilly, Jordan took a swim!

A mile and a few hundred feet down later, the wind kicked up at our sandy lunch spot and I started to feel hopelessly sandblasted. Just before that long stop the three women hikers all got our butts wet in a narrow and quite deep part of the creek (honestly hilarious). So I tried to sun my pants while reading about grinding poverty in Iceland and snacking. Andrew ate an AVOCADO at this point, lol. Later I heard this was a two-hour break which shattered my conception of time.

The trip’s longest break: Naps

And time isn’t very sensical out there anyway: you wake up before dawn, hike for an hour or so, make breakfast, hike for a few more hours, stop for a snack or to get water or to look at something or re-apply sunscreen or remove a layer, hike for a few more hours, stop for lunch or to get water or to look at something or re-apply sunscreen, hike for a few more hours, then put your pack down at “camp” which is when you put layers back on one at a time and the chores begin. Find a flat spot with some privacy and views, grab your food and mess kit to make dinner, then clean up dinner, pick out your breakfast and snacks for the next day, talk with your friends, and as the sun goes down, you head back to your little camp to brush your teeth, inflate your sleeping pad, shake out your quilt, and if you’re me you try to journal a little and read a little, and wait for the stars to come out. Maybe “send a fax” in there somewhere. Then sleep. Then do it all again.

It was still awfully windy, so we decided to camp in the canyon rather than trying to end our day with an ascent to exposed slickrock.

The wind pushed these big fluffy clouds around

When we made it into camp (sandy, as advertised), it was like a flip switched and the stuff I’d put up with for a week seemed suddenly unbearable. That doesn’t happen on my shorter trips. My feet were wet and cold, my shoes and socks were hopelessly sandy, I could tell I smelled less than great, and I really, really wanted to use a real bathroom and a real table and chairs and eat a vegetable. However, the company was great as always and my spirits were good, considering.

Camp site 6

We (Jordan) put our tent up for the final hurrah, Andrew split up a chocolate bar for us all, we shared overall high and low points, and went to bed a little early.

Monday (Day 7) 4.2 miles

The day had come! Chairs, showers, beers and vegetables were less than two hours’ speed-hike away. Everyone was up and ready pretty early and raring to go but Randy had time to toast one of my fancy marshmallows without a stick on his alcohol stove.

Daredevils get morning marshmallows

The final leg of the trip followed the Escalante River past sights we’d seen before, a week fresher than now. Still gorgeous the second time through, and as we got closer and closer to the trailhead I started to tear up again: I’d miss this stuff, I’d miss this time, I’d miss these people.

At a river crossing very close to the trailhead we all walked over a fallen tree rather than cross the river in our shoes (which got wet 100 yards later). Objectively it was a silly risk to take, but maybe we just wanted one final rush: trusting our shoes.

By 9:30 a.m. we were back at our cars, where a member of Andrew’s crew had a cooler full of craft beers and lime LaCroix. A toast to being engaged, side-hugs for the hikers who were hitting the road right away, plans to meet for lunch after we’d all showered, then I turned my phone back on and probably let you know I was safe, I was happy, I was engaged to my hiking partner for life.

Lessons Learned: “Who needs tents and who needs trails.” -Miranda
“Type 2 fun is Type 1 fun!” – Jordan

Lighterpack: his and hers

More photos!

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