Western Wanderlust Chronicles

There’s something unforgettable about Escalante in the spring—the way snow-dusted mountains give way to sun-warmed canyons, where desert wildflowers bloom and canyon walls glow gold at sunset. This trip marked my third time down Hole-in-the-Rock Road and my seventh visit to Grand Staircase-Escalante, but it still felt brand new. Over the course of three days, I camped under the stars, hiked solo through Hurricane Wash, and found myself completely immersed in the beauty and solitude of Coyote Gulch. Here’s how it all unfolded—from wind-swept desert mornings to the cool shadows beneath Jacob Hamblin Arch.

Day 1: Desert Solitude Under a Sky Full of Stars

From snowy Colorado passes to the red rock canyons of southern Utah, the drive was a full-day transformation. By the time I reached Hole-in-the-Rock Road, the dust was flying, and adventure was officially underway. The road itself? A mixed bag— a little bit pleasant, a lot of washboard. But as soon as I pulled off into a quiet patch of BLM land about five miles from the trailhead, the bumps and dust faded into insignificance. I had found solitude—no one around for miles, just me, my truck, and the desert.

As the sun lowered behind the cliffs, golden hour cast a magical glow over the landscape. I wandered around camp, watching a tiny bird dart between desert shrubs in search of dinner. It didn’t seem bothered by my presence, going about its evening routine like I wasn’t even there. Nearby, delicate white wildflowers bloomed bravely from the sandy soil, their petals fluttering in the wind.

The first night brought strong desert winds, so I crawled into the back of the truck and cued up a movie. With my cozy setup and the wind howling outside, it felt like my own little hideaway in the wild. One of my favorite parts about camping here is watching the stars through the truck windows—and this night, the dark sky put on a show before the moonrise. I stepped out into a world of dark silence—no city lights, no distractions. Just a vast expanse of stars, more than you think your eyes can take in.

There’s something deeply peaceful about beginning a trip like this—with time to settle into the landscape, breathe it in, and let the stillness wash over you. It reminded me why I keep coming back to Escalante. It’s not just the views—it’s the feeling.

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Day 2: From Desert Dawn to Canyon Solitude

The nighttime temperature was comfortable, though the morning brought that desert chill that makes you crave sunrise. As the first hints of sunlight crept across the mesa, I stayed tucked in my sleeping bag, watching the sky change from inky blue to orange and gold—grateful for the warmth the sun brings. The desert was quiet, except for the faint whisper of wind moving through the sage.

Even in the dim light, those delicate white flowers stood out—little bursts of beauty scattered over rust-red earth—each one catching the light like tiny lanterns. I savored the stillness, one of those moments that doesn’t demand anything from you except presence.

Today would mark the beginning of a 2-day solo backpacking trip into Coyote Gulch. This adventure would cover 18 miles roundtrip, weaving through wide desert washes, lush canyon corridors, and some of the most iconic scenery in Grand Staircase-Escalante. The kind of canyon that humbles you, welcomes you, and makes you fall a little more in love with the desert every time you visit.

After a quick breakfast and a final glance back at my peaceful camp spot, I packed up and headed out. The road led me deeper into the wild, eventually arriving at the Hurricane Wash trailhead. Once there, I shouldered my pack, tightened the straps, and took those first few steps into the wash. It was time to walk into the heart of the canyon.

The morning was cool—hovering around 47°F—making the early miles feel effortless. The trail begins in open desert, the kind of exposed landscape that could be brutal under midday heat. But today it reminded me of our hike to Reflection Point—wide, sandy, and easy to navigate.

Before long, I crossed into Glen Canyon National Recreation Area and the scenery began to shift. Towering canyon walls gradually rose around me, and the temperature dropped. The dry, desolate wash transformed into a lush canyon corridor, rich with life. Cottonwood trees showered the air with drifting cotton, and a small stream began to wind along the trail.

The vegetation grew taller—sometimes taller than I am—and in a few spots I had to bushwhack to stay on course. But I didn’t mind. I kept stopping to look up in awe, listening to birds calling through the canyon, their songs echoing like music through a stone cathedral.

As I moved deeper into the gulch, river crossings became more frequent. I kept an eye out for a campsite, wondering how close I was to Jacob Hamblin Arch—and just as I looked up, there it was. Massive. Majestic. And completely mine for the moment.

I dropped my pack, basked in the sun, and watched lizards scurry along the rocks as I enjoyed lunch.

Afternoon Exploration

After setting up camp, I grabbed my daypack and headed toward Coyote Natural Bridge. Leaving Jacob Hamblin, the canyon began to open slightly. More sun. More heat. More options. The trail offered several routes—some along the stream, others climbing over small hills—but all eventually rejoined.

Natural Bridge appeared suddenly as I rounded a bend, its graceful form arching over the stream. I had it all to myself. I sat in the shade, rehydrated, and simply listened to the water moving beneath the arch. Time slowed down.

On my way back, I stopped at Swiss Cheese Falls, one of my favorite spots in the gulch. It’s a playful little section of canyon—smooth rock worn into natural pools by the flowing water. I took a break to soak my feet and feel the cool stream against my skin.

Camp Life & Canyon Connections

Back at camp, I met a seasoned hiker who had visited the area nearly 50 times. She showed me a fresh spring still running below Jacob’s arch, a welcome find in case I needed to top off my water with something fresher than creek flow. That evening, I discovered a few holes in my tent—likely from the curious lizards I’d seen all around—but I had my repair kit and patched it up before dinner.

I made a simple camp meal and then stretched out in my tent, the day’s effort settling into my body in the best way. I peeled off my damp socks from the earlier creek crossings and let them dry in the breeze, relishing the feeling of the soft, cool sand beneath my bare feet. There’s something grounding about that sensation—dusty toes and sun-warmed skin.

As the sun set, I watched the light shift on Jacob Hamblin Arch, a natural sculpture in constant motion. The canyon echoed with distant birdcalls and the sound of wind through cottonwoods. I wasn’t entirely alone—another couple was camped nearby, just around the bend—but it was quiet enough that I felt like I had the entire place to myself. It was peaceful, serene, and exactly the kind of solitude I came for.

When darkness fell, I lay under a sky filled with stars, framed perfectly by the arch above me. No camera could’ve captured it, but the memory is etched forever.

Day 3: A Gentle Exit and Scenic Reward

I was up early, aiming to hit the trail by 7:30 AM. The goal was to hike out before the open desert became too hot. The canyon offered shade and cool air for the first half of the hike.

Reversing my route gave me new perspectives—light hitting canyon walls in different ways, flowers I hadn’t noticed before, side trails I now recognized.

When I reached the truck at 11:00 AM, the temperature was already climbing. I was grateful for the air conditioning and cool water stashed in my cooler. A little electrolyte boost and a snack made the return even sweeter.

Still full of energy, I decided to do some scenic driving up Hole-in-the-Rock Road, eventually reaching Harris Wash and exploring some side trails. The landscape changed again—lush red earth, rolling terrain, and a different kind of beauty.

A Canyon Well Traveled

After two days of weaving through sandstone corridors, soaking in streams, and sitting in silence beneath natural arches, I emerged from the canyon sun-kissed, trail-worn, and completely recharged. The hike back gave me space to absorb it all—every detail of light on the canyon walls, every echo of birdsong, every cool splash of creek water. And while I always look forward to the comfort of a shower and a warm meal, part of me never wants to leave a place like this.

Final Thoughts

Backpacking solo through Coyote Gulch reminded me of the quiet strength that comes from slowing down and tuning in to the landscape around you. From soft sunrises over desert blooms to stargazing through a sandstone arch, this trip was filled with moments that grounded and inspired me. Escalante never fails to deliver a sense of awe—and this journey was no exception. I left with dusty boots, a full heart, and a deep appreciation for the kind of wild beauty that makes you feel small in the best possible way. Until next time, canyon country.