Route 12 Toward Escalante

(Her Photos, Not Mine.)

After Bryce, we headed toward Escalante, where there's an area of petrified wood. That meant traveling back along my favorite scenic highway: Route 12. Even though it was early afternoon and the sun hid behind the clouds, the view of the mountains and cliffs was spectacular -- just as I had first viewed them months ago. And my friend also found the views breathtaking, uttering "Wow" once in a while.

It really felt refreshing to return to a place I had longed to visit. For months, I had envisioned driving back to this place and view once again, those spectacular sights and the road that never seemed to end. It was a matter of wanting, and I wasn't disappointed. I looked toward my fellow passenger and said, "Life feels complete. Thank you for joining me on this travel!"

As we moved eastward, the sky turned darker behind us, and we had to get to the petrified forest area as soon as we could -- winding through the cliffs and massive rock formations of yellow, white and grey.

Our hike through the petrified forest wound through a trail that led us about 300 feet up from the parking lot and gave us a nice view of the valley and Escalante. There were a bunch of logs that were exposed, and I'm sure that there are many specimens of petrified wood beneath our feet. The trail looped back toward the parking lot, and we booked our asses out of there to beat the inclement weather. But that was too late anyway. (Before we left Esacalante Petrified Forest State Park, I left $1 in an envelope as fee for the privilege of hiking the trail. It's actually $5, but the dollar was the smallest bill on hand!)

Snowfall started halfway toward Bryce, and became heavier by the time we reached Bryce, which amused my friend because it was the first time she had seen snowfall accumulate on a wide open field such as the high desert we were in. Indeed, it did feel like winter and snow on the pine trees gave an atmosphere of Christmastime. As we descended, from 6,000 feet, snow turned to sleet, then to rain. By the time we reached Kanab, the town was as dry as a sober man without alcohol for a month.