Photo of the Day: River of Fire

Driftwood Yacht? Zion National Park, December 22, 2012

Photo of the Day: Snowy Silhouettes

Zion National Park, December 22, 2012

Photo of the Day: Hiking up from the riverbed

Zion National Park, Virgin River, December 22, 2012

I like to visit in the winter. When the foliage is gone, you see little vignettes you might miss, like this staircase up from the riverbed to caves, nooks, and other trails.

Grafton Take Two - Part Two

Across the road from the "official" entrance to Grafton are roads to other parts of the settlement. There are remnants of former farms, old-growth trees, quaint No Trespassing sign, and fences to keep you out.


Back up the road, you can visit the old Grafton Cemetery. The erosion and flooding that made it difficult for the settlers to stay are evident. Weathering has left its effect on the tombstones and the gravesites. Some of descendants of the families have come back to maintain the site and to maintain the headstones. In the background of the picture above, you can see that one site has been fenced off. The family has also levelled out the land, so you don't see the "hump" of the caskets, like you can below.
Since this was holy ground, I was trodding delicately, stepping carefully between gravesites and my own inclination to document carvings, dates, and family dynamics. I didn't take photographs of the section of the cemetery dedicated to the Native Americans buried within. No granite markers for them, just simple wooden stakes with the names that they were known by in English, not even their real tribal names. My heart broke for one family. There was no way that a photograph could even depict the poignancy of a whole row of little graves, one after another.

With the storm gathering in the distance, the wind whipping up, and the sense of the ancestors being not too far away, we decided to get out of Grafton before the road washed out. Remembering what the road looked like in January, we left hastily after my little rain dance led to the skies opening up. (I am so glad that J left his camera at home!)

I did stop to photograph the Virgin River Bridge in the rain. Metal plus rain plus storm --- not the smartest thing to do. But look at the light ... dark and moody. Just like I like it.

Since it was raining, the bro and I picnicked under a shelter near Zion. It was a lovely hour or so, just us catching up, watching the clouds rolling through the valley, and breathing in the most incredibly sweet, fresh, crisp mountain air. If you could bottle that air, you could make a fortune. It was the kind of air that makes you remember you have lungs and helps you remember what air is supposed to smell like. Spring/youth/cut grass/fresh rain/a storm/fresh breezes/home ...

As the storm pulled out of the valley, the clouds had the funkiest formations. My little toy camera couldn't quite capture it all, but J said that his weather geek friends would have been having a field day.

By the time we drove out down out of the mountains, we were refreshed and found ourselves under the rainbows. I kind of missed seeing Gandalf on this trip, but it was great lovely to visit the ghost town, spend quality time with the bro, and see Mother Nature in all her glory. The veil felt thin, with Grafton's families and ours looking down on us. We felt their blessings upon us, from our safe journey to our joyous rainbows of light.

Western Vistas

Whenever I'm feeling blue, or a bit gray from all the concrete in my life, I just remember all the many beautiful vistas I saw on vacation.

Dark clouds may roll in,

But blue skies are over the horizon.

Rainbow lurk behind the storms,

and palm trees dance under the clouds.

Flowers unfurl in the sun,

While beauty reaches for the heavens.

Zipping through Zion

Since we were so close to the National Park, J and I continued north toward Zion. Thanks to his handy Parks Pass and i.d., we were able to get in with no entrance fee. For those not fit enough, or equipped to hike, Zion has lovely roads that you may traverse by vehicle to see the splendor of the peaks. Good for more guerrilla photography.

It would have been lovely to hike, but alas, look at all the snow up here. Remember those flipflops? Too cold for the toesies and not good for ankles.

Although beautiful in Zion, it was approaching lunch time and (*ahem*) nature was calling. Since it was New Year's, all the restrooms in the Park were closed for the season and the lodges were full of those touristy types. We headed back down to Springdale for victuals and facilities.


J remembered a greasy spoon in town that was great, so we headed there. Much to his dismay, the much loved Bumbleberry Restaurant has been taken over by new management, remodelled, and renamed as Wildcat Willies Ranch Grill & Saloon. Neither of us were very impressed, and judging by all the comments by people who had been to town before, the previous incarnation is going to be missed, no matter the waitstaff's and management's pride in recuping investments on the new version so quickly.

The Bumbleberry Inn has pictures of what the old restaurant looked like. That was charming. Being confronted with this was not.

Do I really want to be looking at a vulture as I eat my burger and fries? I don't think so!

On the way up to Grafton and Springdale, we passed various small towns, including Hurricane. You have to hear the Southern Utah accent to know that it is not pronounced like the storm, but Hurr-i-kun. Strange people, these Utes.

Southern Utah is also home to the largest populations of Virgins on Earth.

Residents of Virgin, Utah ... Because of the Virgin River people!

(Who thought putting cherries on this sign was a good idea?)

The town may be small, but they have High Speed Internet AND Virgin Goods.

(I guess they are saving the Good Virgins for the Apocalypse?)

Way to pose bro! If we didn't know you had two kids, we'd be worried about your Virginal aspirations.

We still had half the day ahead of us, so we maturely thought we should leave the Vestals of Virgin and head down the mountains before we were run out of town. Next stop ... Silver Reef and Arizona.

Visiting Gandalf in Grafton

I had a relatively short list of things that I wanted to do while out West this past winter vacation. One of the things was to spend the day with each of my siblings. The other was to go exploring Southern Utah. I had picked up a copy of one of the Lonely Planet guides on the region, hoping to get some ideas of fun and easy day trips to areas that I hadn't already explored on previous visits. An entry about the ghost town of Grafton caught my eye. Brother J agreed to go with accompany me on what we called a "shooting trip," and so on New Year's Day we set forth. (Note: Clarify your definition of "shooting" before you set out. You'll understand why this is significant in a later post.)

It was a beautiful day for a trip; sunny, warm for this Easterner, but cold enough to require layers. It had snowed in the higher elevations, so it was good to be prepared with layers and boots. J, though, in his inestimable fashion sense, had on his habitual flipflops, cargo shorts, and fleece. Note: Hiking + flipflops + unknown ground conditions = not generally a good idea.

J knew where he was going, so he drove Mom and Dad's car. This was great; I got to shoot pictures out the window. I call it my guerrilla style photographic technique.

There were NO "falling rock" signs that I saw. You just assume it is going to happen in this part of the West. This "little" guy wasn't too far off the road.

See?! It does snow in southern Utah.

We're not far from Zion National Park, and the mountains begin to take on some lovely shapes even that far away.

J had warned me that the roads were probably going to get a little rough out toward Grafton. Once we crossed the bridge in Rockville, this was especially true. What we both didn't expect was this bit of forewarning ...

(Well, that's welcoming!)

Or for the private road to be completely rutted, muddy, slick, and impassable in the car we were driving. We parked the car near the sign, and decided to see how far we could get on foot.

We got about a quarter of a mile or so down the road, slipping and slurping in the mud, laughing, and making much in the way of noise. Suddenly, we could hear barking from a ways away. We could hear the dog long before we could see him, and even then we weren't sure if he was fenced or chained in. We kept going, until we realized the dog wasn't behind a fence line, the barking was getting louder, and the dog was actually headed toward us at a good clip. We turned around and headed back to the car. J armed himself with a rock, just in case.

Incoming patrol ...

The dog turned out to be as friendly as could be. He carried his own stick, didn't bark, growl, or jump. J and I basically had decided to keep heading back to the car, and the dog continued to oh, so casually, but purposefully, herd us back up the road. We ended up calling him Gandalf the Grey, our very own animal guide. In that part of the West, you take your guides where you can. We figured that if we were at least smart enough NOT to drive down the road and get stuck, we should not ignore these promptings, no matter what form they came in. Gandalf was definitely a flesh and blood dog, but he does live by a ghost town. Who knows? There are more things in earth and heaven ...

J borrowed my camera to prove that I actually was there. In the light you can see how deep the tire grooves were. (And that's the sun on my hair, not grey, thankyouverymuch ... though I do have a streak on that side.)


Duty done, Gandalf headed back down the road to check on the car from Tennessee that passed us as we were attempting to brush and scrape a layer of mud and clay off our clothes and shoes. (If we had gotten mud on Mom's car, we'd never have heard the end of it.) Hopefully the Tennessee folks had 4-wheel drive, though we did hear them spin their wheels a time or two. Maybe we should have tried to wave them down and warn them about the dips and hills down the road? Nah ... Gandalf had it under control.


(We still aren't sure why the condition of the unpaved dirt road changed so dramatically. You can see it change right by Gandalf.)

J's lovely legs and feet.

People pay a lot of money for similar mud treatments.

Since going to Grafton was a big old bust, we headed north to Zion and its gorgeous views.
Here's a sampling. Remember, higher elevations = more snow.


We'll have to try a trip to Grafton on another trip, maybe in the spring or fall. Maybe we'll run into Gandalf again, or stop by his ranch and say hey to his people. In the meantime, J's going to check on the location of a few other ghost towns in the area that he's heard about from his colleagues.