Sullivan Canyon

The irony of Sullivan Canyon is that it is literally close enough that, at its mouth, you can throw a rock from Interstate 15, and probably hit it. Yet the feeling that one gets while hiking in it is that of isolation, mystery and intrigue.

Despite the proximity of the canyon to the interstate, we chose to begin our hike a couple of miles away at a small campground. The two mile walk to the canyon is beautiful in itself. My daughter and I forged the swollen Virgin River, then trekked across hills full of cholla cactus and creosote bushes. Some of the barrel cactus were taller than my daughter, although, she is short, but not that short.

At last, the trail entered Sullivan Canyon, and there it disappeared, giving way to a dry wash that ran the length of the canyon. I don't know if there was ever a time when permanent water ran through the bed of this wash, or if it was created by intermittent flash floods. Whichever the case, the alabaster-colored dry river bed, at one time, contained a significant amount of water for such a dry place as this.

So why did I choose to come to Sullivan Canyon? That's a good question. It certainly isn't a popular tourist destination (we saw no one else the entire time). Although it is beautiful in its own way, it is not a Zion National Park or Grand Canyon. But, I think that was part of the intrigue. Everyone that I talked to had never heard of the place. The internet gave me scant information.

Yet, the canyon has its possibilities. It is roughly twelve miles long, and would have been a perfect north-south corridor to the Virgin River for Paiutes who lived on the Arizona Strip.

Many sources indicate that the Armijo Route of the Old Spanish Trail followed the Virgin River through the gorge on its way to California. Although there are also sources, perhaps showing later journeys, that would indicate that the Armijo route bypassed the gorge and crossed over Utah Hill.

Jedediah Smith traveled through the gorge during his 1826 journey. His diary describes the challenge that he and his company faced. “The country on the Adams [Virgin] River above where I struck it had a peculiarly wild and rugged appearance . . . Early the next morning we started down in the bed of the general shallowness of the water. By the meanderings of the stream it was about 12 m through the rocks rising perpendicularly from the waters edge in most places to the height of 3 or 400 feet. A good many hot springs but not as hot as some I have seen at the Salt Lake and on the Big Horn . . . At this place I saw a new kind of quail some smaller than the Atlantic quail. The male has three or four feathers an inch long rising from the top of the head.”

Nowhere in Jedediah Smith's journal does it suggest that he wandered into Sullivan Canyon. But evidence indicates that people traveled through the general area, and I believe that an exploratory meandering into Sullivan Canyon would not be out of the question.

We hiked a total of about four miles up the canyon. Probably not quite half-way, but enough to wet our appetite for a return trip. One characteristic that interested me was the lack of Joshua Trees. The previous evening, we drove around on a graveled road on the north side of the river, and everywhere were forests of Joshua Trees. Yet here on the south side, not a single tree could be found. Instead, we found an abundance of cactus and small green shrubs that carpeted the hillside. Barrel cactus grew on the ledges, protruding into the skyline like a knife stabbed into the hillside.

The walk was relatively gentle. No car-sized boulders to climb over or thick willows to forge through. We only had to watch out for loose gravel and that pesky cactus.

One of the interesting aspects of the canyon were the abundance of caves. Not necessarily deep caverns, but large enough to build a fire and sleep the night. My mind wandered back to possibility of wandering Indians and frontiersman, and I wondered who could have spent the night in one of these caves. If I were a Spaniard looking for place to hide gold, this is where I would do it! Some of these limestone walls were literally poc-marked with caverns.

After that thought, there was no doubt where we would take one of our snack-breaks. We found a hole in the rock, removed our packs and ate a Power Bar. The ground wasn't quite as smooth as I had anticipated. It would take a little work to sleep on it. But the view was spectacular, and we even had a couple of barrel cacti growing just on the fringe of the cavern. As we relaxed, I felt a lot like Ether, hiding in the cavity of a rock.

I hoped to spot some Bighorn Sheep. I brought binoculars just in case we eyed them meandering along the ledges. But none were to be seen. The land appeared ideal for them; plenty of grass, lots of craggy walkways, and a short distance to water. A friend told me that they have tried to relocate the sheep in recent years due to the proximity of I-15. That would make sense. Along the upper slopes of the canyon, we could see what appeared to be game trails. I also saw a set of tracks in the dirt, near the wash. They could have been either deer or sheep.

We saw a lone hawk and several flocks of small blue birds flying from bush to bush. We also found a carefully built nest, strategically placed in the crook of a cholla cactus.

 Although most of canyon which we hiked was much the same, I really enjoyed it because the landscape was very different from what I am used to. Different kinds of cactus lay side by side with yucca plants and Brigham Tea. 

 We never did find any archaeological evidence, but I knew that it had to be all around me. It left me with a feeling of wanting to return and explore further.

At the four-mile point in our hike, I saw from a distance what appeared to be water flowing from a rock. Knowing that there was a spring somewhere in the area, we decided to check out the validity of my find. We left the wash at the bottom of the canyon and trekked up the slope and over brush and boulders. The closer we became, the water seemed to be playing hide-and-go-seek with us. At last, we arrived to the water-soaked rock, only to find that it wasn't much more than that. Any water that had seeped out of the hillside and onto the rock, wasn't enough to do anything but expire before reaching the bottom of the boulder. So much for my mirage. No way to fill a water bottle with this.

At that, we decided that it was time to turn around. The hike back went a little quicker, but perhaps that was because, in my mind, I was already planning my return trip. Next time, I will explore much deeper into the canyon.