Take a hike! Pick a canyon, any canyon
Should you happen to be looking for me, and if it’s a Monday, you will not likely find me. Even if you were able to somehow track me by the signal emanating from the cellphone in my pocket, it will still be a daunting proposition. On Mondays, you see, I am typically somewhere up in yonder hills.
Why? Well… Because they’re there!
Our surrounding mountains beckon to me so beguilingly, that I can rarely resist.
On this particular day—a Monday—resistance is entirely futile; so, I dutifully fill my hydration system, slip it into my daypack, along with a granola-bar and an apple, and head up the nearest canyon (which, for me, happens to be Canal Canyon in the Manti-La Sal National Forest).
My wife and I have always enjoyed a lovely romp in the woods, or a scramble to the top of some lofty peak; but, before we moved here, we were accustomed to driving—sometimes for hours—to a desired trailhead.
Here, there are any number of hikes right in our own backyard. I can strap on my pack, throw a leg over my motorbike, and dismount a mere 10 minutes later at a entirely suitable trailhead. And this has been my experience on this very morning.
Up the trail I go, and past another hiker, coming down with her tiny dog, ‘Fancy,’ which I am allowed to pet, before we exchange parting pleasantries and continuing on our respective journeys —she downward, and I upward. And those two will be the last sentient beings I encounter for the next five hours. (Unless you count the woodpecker I can hear jackhammering away in a tree high above me.)
Such solitude is the primary motivation for these Monday moseys up the mountain. Weekends are typically hectic and involve so many social interactions that by Monday, I am craving the peace and silent serenity of the hills.
I slog up this unrelentingly steep trail until I break out of the trees and into an expansive alpine field, so verdantly lovely, that I’ve taken to calling it, “The Enchanted Meadows.” (Other locals, I am told, call it, “Alex Flat.”)
From my Meadows I meander up and over and up a little more, to a brilliant lookout, with a 360 degree panorama that feeds my famished soul; then slowly and meditatively back down to a well-earned plume in the cool, refreshing flow of Canal Creek.
The 10 minute ride home on the motorbike has my clothes nearly dry by the time I wheel into the yard, and another renewing and restorative romp in the hills is complete.
Canal Canyon is my default choice for these Monday rambles, simply because it’s so close; but there are so many other canyons to choose from, and so very many hikes. I’ve lived here in Sanpete County for nearly 13 years now, and I still marvel at the number of canyons we have in this high mountain valley: Canal Canyon, Spring City Canyon, Ephraim Canyon, Manti Canyon, Fairview Canyon, Maple Canyon, Wales Canyon, Box Canyon, Log Canyon, and surely a few others I’ve yet to discover.
I try not to boast too shamelessly of our natural and varied wonders here in Sanpete, but can any other county in our entire State of Utah claim so many canyons? I doubt it.
In the city, a health-club membership is the fitness regimen for most people. But here, in this magnificent valley of ours, I prefer to lace up my hiking shoes (or strap on the snowshoes during winter months) and head up a nearby canyon.
I have done my share of plodding for many an uneventful mile on a treadmill, or pedaling away like a mindless automaton on a stationary bike; but, with so many canyons and hiking trails so conveniently and tantalizingly close, I now prefer a gloriously enervating stroll in our woods, “Where,” as John Muir once said, “nature may heal, and give strength to body and soul.”
I understand that some may prefer to enjoy our many canyons from the back of a trusty horse or ATV or mountain bike. And why not? All the better to cover even more ground, and to gaze upon even more splendor, in a single outing.
So, whatever your preferred method of conveyance, look to the hills, and hear that clarion call of the canyons…
And you may well be inclined to declare, as John Muir so famously declared, “The mountains are calling, and I must go!”