Hayduke Day 33: Spendy Grand Views

We’re back at Willis Creek and fiending for Hayduke miles. Well, kind of. The OG Hayduke would keep us tucked within the Bryce Park boundary along the Under The Rim trail, but there’s still a lot of snow up there. Too much snow, we reckon. So we opt for an alternate down Grandview Trail, leading us south from Bryce. Goodbye, Bryce Fairyland!

We start by following Willis Creek and then a dirt road which at one point comes to a sign that states PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO HUNTING OR TRESPASSING. We see a house in the distance. “That’s a lot of vehicles,” notes Weekend. For some reason the quantity of vehicles parked around the house rattles us both. We decide to trespass because we don’t see a reasonable way around it. We hike tight against the edge of the Willis Creek wash, hoping the walls keep us out of sight. When we get close to their house we heads-down-speed-walk and jump their fence. My heart is pumping. Pretty please may none of those vehicles speed towards me.

Hours later we see the note in our guidebook that there’s an easement on the road through the property. Heh heh! I hope the residents saw me trying to be stealthy in my magenta colored shirt and metallic hiking umbrella and got a good chuckle.

The Grandview Trail lives up to its namesake. Orange fins and hoodoos. Huge views of Bryce and the Kaiparowits plateau. The views don’t come for free though. There’s a big burn area with heaps of blow downs we clamber through. We contour along ten miles of drainages, against the grain. Which means we’re constantly climbing up and down, in and out. The north sides are covered in rotten snow I post hole through. The southwest sides are dry trail I cruise through. The contouring also means my right leg is uphill of my left most of the day. Weekend decides that ‘A’ is for Asymmetrical today.

The Grandview Trail also provides grand views of the storm systems roving across the Colorado Plateau. Heavy, dark clouds drag their whispy legs of precip from place to place. Eventually, one of the clouds sits on top of us. I excitedly break out all my rain gear, thrilled to justify carrying it. The rain stops as soon as I’m geared up. And so it goes.

At long last, we get off the hillside and into Lower Podunk Creek. It’s silty. But more carrot juice like than choco milk or chai latte.

We set up our tent under a stand of ponderosas, glad to have some protection as the storms keep roving.

I hope it rains, I say. For the atmospheric soundscape of course.

And ohhhh baby does it rain! Our tent walls thrum for six hours straight.