Ghosts and Goblins

Saturday September 17

Torrey to Hanksville:193 km, max speed 153 kph

Bloooming Pricklypear cactus

Rest stop on the way to Hickman Bridge

Hickman Bridge

This place is kind of scary...

...because Goblins are everywhere.

Tom is not too scared. He is walking in amongst the Goblins.

It is a treat to have a short travel day, though it had been somewhat dictated by circumstances beyond our control. The day starts out pouring rain and totally socked in - the clouds are hanging low in the valley and it looks like a Vancouver winter day. No one is in too big a hurry to get going. However, by the time people have finished breakfast, the clouds are starting to lift, there are tiny patches of blue sky and the rain has slowed to a sprinkle.  By the time we are packed up, the sun is shining and the clouds are disappaiting. It has gone from depressing and miserable to beautiful and stunning in a couple of short hours.

The Eastern Contingent are going to retrace our steps from yesterday. As it turned out, Sheila and John ended up travelling with Bob and Cathy to Richfield to Deliver the Goods to the courier so they want to experience the park and the pie. We are going to explore some of the sights along the route, look for a motel for ourselves and hopefully, check out Goblin State Park.

With the heavy rain from this morning, we are getting a first hand look at a lot of what shapes the Utah landscape. Yesterday the Fermont River is but a trickle running along side the highway. Today it is a raging torrent dragging red silt down from the mountains, disolving all the rock in its path. We can see areas where the river has overflowed its banks and there are several places on the highway that the river has crossed, depositing large amounts of mud and silt. Fortunately, the snow plows have been through and pushed the mud off the road. This is very characteristic of what happens with rain here: the area is dry and arid - a genuine desert - parched with conditions that would challenge even the scorpions that live here but occasionally visited by brief periods of monsoon. It seems that this year has been wetter than most, which means that it is dry and arid but with more frequent rain storms.

When the rain falls, only a modest amount is absorbed into the soil but most of it is funnelled into the little valleys where it becomes a destructive force, taking no prisoners as it washes its way to the Colorado River. The rock around here is mostly sandstone and to a much lesser degree, limestone, so the water is always red in colour as it carries away as much as it can. Apparently, 140 million years ago, Utah (amongst other places in North America) was covered by a large, freshwater lake. The lake for millions of years deposited layers upon layers of silt and sediment, which are plainly evident when looking at the landscape now. Then one day, the water drained away. The wind started blowing, carrying particles of sand further eroding the landscape but in particular, the soft sandstone that abounds but not so much the limestone, which is much harder. The result of this is that columns of sandstone remain standing because they are interspersed with calcium, lime and other harder minerals that are more difficult to blow away. The result of this is the stunning formations that are visable all over Utah: columns of every size and shape, arches, natural bridges and a few man-made bridges, too.

Hickman Bridge is one such landmark and it is our first stop along the way. It is a one mile (1.6 km) hike from the highway, up into a hanging valley. We don't realize that the hike is uphill or that it is one mile until we get going but it is o.k., though we are feeling the sun because we are wearing our bike clothing. Nonetheless, it is a nice hike and popluar and we chat to lots of people along the way.

We make a stop at some roadside petrolglyphs, proof positive that aliens visited the local Indians 10,000 years ago and then go on to Hanksville, stopping at a motel (full) and a homesteader's cabin. The cabin is tiny - maybe 300 square feet TOPS and it housed a family of 10 when it was built. According to the description, the mother, father and two youngest children slept in the house; the boys slept in a hollow in the side of the cliff and the girls slept in a wagon. Harsh, it seems, even by then standards. And no iPhones.

By the time we reach Hanksville, it is 2:45 p.m. We go straight to the motel where we have booked the two rooms already and are on the "waiting list" for a third. We have to wait around because the office does not open till 3:00 so we are cooling our heels at the office. There is another couple there drinking beer. They are on holidays too, but they are hiking the parks in the area and if what she is saying is any indication, they are serious about their back country. But she is also serious about her beer; they are both drinking beer while they wait but she is GUNNED. She clearly cannot be so drunk from just from having one beer while she waits so I suspect she has been drinking all day.

The office opens and the owner is there and her hired staff comes in at 3:00 sharp, dressed in high heeled boots, her makeup meticulous. We're in Hanksville, which is basically a ghost town. The staff person is checking in the drunk gal and the owner is saying she has to call this guy because she has JUST had a cancellation. WHOO HOO, that "guy" is me and I can even see my contact info on the scrap of paper she is carrying. THAT'S US I holler. We are saved because we were so worried that we would end up over at the other motel. Or in the parking lot sleeping in Bob's truck. It's high fives all around. We check in.

As we leave for lunch, the Eastern Contingent pulls in, so they come across to Blondies to have lunch with us and we all go off to Goblin State Park together.

On the way, the Garmin GPS is faithfully, guiding our way. It tells us to turn left into the park and even though I have it set to avoid unpaved roads, this is an oversight. The road is gated with a sign that says 4 wheel drive vehicles only and to not enter if a storm is threatening. Fortunately, I have looked at the area so many times on Google Maps that I know there is another entrance so we proceed further north. At the park gate, we are chatting to the ranger and we mention that the GPS tried to send us on an adventure. It seems that he is the brunt of complaints because people who don't know better take Garmin's word as gospel and attempt to cross the open plain on this dirt track and invariably get stuck.

Goblin is named for the shape of the sandstone structures left by the winds. It is whimsical and somebody has a sense of imagination, humour or both.

Hanksville is a little less humourous though because it is full of shuttered buildings and abandoned businesses. Not sure what the primary source of the economy had been here in the past but now, the town was sustained by the two motels, three restaurants and two gas stations. It would be exceedling depressing to live there.