Capitol Reef National Park

Shortly after leaving Hanksville the wind began to moderate. It had been a hell of a start for Princess Vespa and, as usual, my best-laid plans got warped by life’s realities. The plan had been to leave Green River, Utah in the cool of the morning and this wind, well, it was just freaky. Our late start was necessitated by a needed visit and then a subsequent overnighting with a friend, who had been just released from the hospital. Life had thrown us behind the eight ball and into the gutter. Finally with a few miles under our belts, we began to enjoy some desert scenery that wasn’t monochrome grey. After all we were on one of America’s scenic byways, highway 24 in Utah.

The road began a gentle climb beside an idyllic meandering river, flowing strong and wide. Gentle grey bluffs framed a few pastures here and there. As we climbed slowly upwards, the growing canyons walls protected us more and more from the wind. Suddenly life was fun again and the purring scooters a perfect friend. Speeds of 45-50mph were the norm and traffic had died off since we were now traveling away from Lake Powell. The Princess felt like a Queen!

The next twenty miles flew past and suddenly the steeping road had towering multi-hued red sandstone cliffs with red, grey and white bands; we were now near Capitol Reef National Park, ascending the oddly named Waterpocket Fold. This
monstrous geologic feature is a giant buckle in the earth’s crust stretching for more than 100 miles across south-central Utah. This is how it was formed; imagine a flat plain, really an ancient sea bottom stretching across America. Layer and up on layer of different colored silts settled to the bottom over eons. These silty layers then compress each preceding layer into a multi-layered and stripped cake. Well this cake is more like jello to the earth’s forces and from the middle outwards, minor ridges turning to higher and higher ridges, ever marching outwards beyond the preceding ridges, until mountains rim this lengthy valley. All the ridges are different colors and hues based on the age of the sediments that formed them. It truly is a sight when seen from the air. However that was not our current view. We were more like ants crawling up the colorful ridges, lost in the micro picture twists and turns, yet to understand the macro tectonic wonder of it all.

The first entrance to the park from the east is a bit of a let down, just an outhouse, bulletin board and small parking lot, the main visitors center nine miles beyond. The road though begins to get majestic with Capitol Dome and several other grand white walls circling the tarmac. The Visitors Center in located in the Fruita Historic District . This is a century’s old orchard in a narrow river flats area,
home of the Gifford Farmhouse and a schoolhouse and blacksmith shop.

These restored historic buildings evoke one’s imagination to ‘Little House on the Prairie’ days; showing what a real one room school house must have looked and felt like in the late 1800’s. This was America’s outback. It was the ’back of beyond’ up these windy hot canyons, tracked by a few lonely rivers. This was heaven work for these stout Mormon pioneers, following the call of the Church. Go out and bring the earth into submission and fruitfulness was the call, both agriculturally and bodily, literally. You needed a big family to run these outpost farms. The more kids you had the quicker the labor force grew and the sagebrush uprooted, the kids turned adults then married and bred, more families meant more settlements grew into towns. Fruita was no town, but it showed the industry that a few families had achieved more than a century ago. The shady cottonwood trees lining the campground were so inviting along the Fruita River. It was now 5PM. A few families were cooking an early dinner by a smoky campfire; several kids running from tent to tent, some folk were cooling toes in the swirling creek and splashing each other. However our day had just started mileage-wise and finally we were in officially scenic country. With some regrets, we turned our scooters away from the Park Campground and headed south on Capitol Reef’s Scenic Drive, an out and back paved jaunt of 20 miles. We knew that the few remaining campgrounds spots would be taken before our return, but with the late start today and the sun around until 9:30 PM we’d still get lots of viewing in.

The Scenic Drive followed a broad canyon, red walls and ridges off to the left, with low hills to the right. Stoney grey soil held sparse vegetation, only brushy juniper trees provided some green relief. As we lost elevation, I thought how this was

stereotypical “Roadrunner” cartoon territory. I half expected the coyote to appear around some corner with a stick of dynamite in his hare-brained way to get the roadrunner and instead blow himself up. Walt Disney must have roamed parts of the west like this. An easterner would be astounded by the views here, but to a resident of the west I knew that this was just the warm-up act for the beauty to come. However it was mighty pleasant motoring I must say; the wind was calm and the temperatures reasonable in the low 80’s now and dropping. We followed the pavement to the end and called it good. A short segment of dirt had tempted me onwards, but the call to dinner and a distance campsite still to find saw us whipping back to the main highway. We had only just touched what Capitol Reef had to offer, but most of the Park’s wonders require dirt road capabilities and a desire to navigate dust, gravel and washboard. Besides, it’s nice to leave a reason to come back, it’s it?

Just outside the Park we stopped at a scenic turnout and contemplated the distant hills and canyons from which we had come. My puny Blackberry camera lens couldn’t bring it all in so I chilled with Princess Vespa and let some vacation therapy soak into my bones.

It was 7PM, we were hungry for dinner and ready to find the SPOT for the night. After 10 miles we stopped for fuel and gas at Torrey, Utah. I filled the water jugs in the men’s bathroom so we’d have water for the night. On my way out a teenage clerk helpfully said, “Oh if I’d known you wanted water I’d filled them up for you out back”. Got to love that small town attitude. I thought he was going to say that I couldn't fill up the jugs and to buy the bottled water instead. Oh cynical city boy!

We could see a high plateau just out of town to the south, up high the aspen trees leaves were fluttering in the setting sun. That familiar Colorado high country feeling was there and we headed south on a mission. As we sped past lush hay meadows and a few farm houses, the odd trophy home cropped up here and there. Now I knew we were getting into the good stuff. Ahead I saw a couple riding their ATV on the road, probably returning from a field. I slowed as I caught them, waiting until I was just off the husband’s shoulder. Playfully I asked him if he “wanted to drag!” They laughed and hit their throttle hard and crouched down like they were racing us. It was a good end to a beautiful evening and we were in good spirits. Minutes later, just inside the Dixie National Forest boundary we found our special camp spot. It was a small grassy meadow, next to a rushing stream below a white sandstone dome. Day 1 of the scooter expedition was done. We had battled through a late start, 59 mph winds, 90’s heat, many a steep road grade, felt the uncertainty of a new mode of travel and had new territory to figure out. We were pretty exhausted as we fell asleep by that brook. But I knew that the VISION had been true and our little Vespas would see us though the rest of the way.