Western Wanderlust Chronicles

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.” – Ed Abbey

Some adventures unfold exactly as you planned. Others surprise you in the best ways possible. Our first day in Utah was a mix of both.

Bill and I had passed Goblin Valley State Park in 2018 on our way home from backpacking Havasu Falls, vowing to return. Less than a year later, we stood at the edge of the San Rafael Desert, ready to lose ourselves in a landscape so bizarre it felt like stepping onto another planet.

A Valley of Stone Creatures

Goblin Valley is a place shaped by wind, water, and time. Thousands of squat, mushroom-like hoodoos—resembling goblins frozen mid-dance—dot the valley floor. The park’s most recognizable formation, the Three Sisters, stood like ancient sentinels near the roadside, their towering shapes stark against the sky.

The real draw for us, though, was Goblin’s Lair (Chamber of the Basilisk)—a cavernous slot canyon hidden within the maze of goblins.

Into the Goblin’s Lair: A Rainy, Magical Descent

The 3.5-mile out-and-back trail to Goblin’s Lair led us through Carmel Canyon, past sweeping views of Molly’s Castle, and up a series of loose scree slopes. Scrambling over boulders, we finally reached the entrance—just as the weather took a turn.

A light drizzle began to fall, the scent of damp sandstone filling the air. As the rain picked up, other hikers turned back, leaving the lair all to ourselves—a rare and magical experience.

Inside, the cavern opened up before us—a massive chamber with towering sandstone walls. More than 100 feet above, holes in the ceiling funneled in the rain, creating thin silver waterfalls that disappeared into the sandy floor. The sound of water dripping and echoing through the chamber was mesmerizing.

Looking back through the lair’s opening, we had an incredible view eastward, the muted colors of the valley softened by the misty rain.

A Muddy Descent & Wildflower Blooms

As beautiful as the rain made the lair, it also made getting down an adventure.

The trail outside the lair became muddy and slick, turning our descent into a slippery challenge. More than once, I had to slide down on my butt, my pants collecting a fresh layer of desert mud. Bill, of course, found this hilarious.

Despite the unexpected mess, the landscape was bursting with color. Vibrant wildflowers painted the valley in hues of purple, pink, yellow, and white, a striking contrast against the red rock formations. It felt like the desert was alive, celebrating the rare rain.

Through the San Rafael Desert: Red Sand Dunes & a Night Under the Stars

Leaving Goblin Valley, we followed Lower San Rafael Road, a rugged desert track that led us past a vast sea of untouched red sand dunes. Unlike the golden dunes we’d seen elsewhere, these were deep red, sculpted into waves and ridges by the wind.

We stopped to admire the pristine dunes, their undisturbed surface a reminder of just how remote and wild this landscape is. The Henry Mountains loomed in the distance, their silhouette barely visible against the shifting evening light.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we reached our dispersed campsite, perched in complete solitude. With no city lights, no traffic, and no distractions, the desert stretched endlessly around us. We made a quick dinner, then leaned back to take in the sky—a breathtaking sea of stars scattered across the inky blackness.

Tomorrow promised more adventure, but for now, we let the silence of the desert settle in, a reminder of why we chase these moments in the first place.

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