Hiking the Entire Length of the Virgin River Gorge: Part 1

15 November 2023—Virgin River Gorge: St. George to Cedar Pockets

I met Rob at his house at 5 am and from there we drove to St. George where we met up with his brother, Hank. Hank's wife, Barbara, was extremely sweet and made us a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and sausage. We took twenty minutes of the predawn morning and ate a hearty meal at the kitchen table.

By 7:00 we were on the road and in ten minutes were at our drop-off point at the Ranger Bart Anderson Trailhead at the south end of town. It was our goal to walk from here through the Virgin River Gorge, all the way to Cedar Pockets and then from there completing the gorge and finishing in Littlefield, Arizona. We would break it into two parts, completing one today and hopefully the second half tomorrow.

Personally, I had never met another person who had hiked the length of the gorge. I couldn't even find anyone on the internet who had done it. We concocted the idea a couple years ago and just now got around to doing it. We didn't even know if it was possible. We were entering terra incognita.

The first four miles was uneventful. During this section we weren't even in the gorge yet and instead of staying down by the river we took a more direct approach that put us hiking over hills, on trails and along dirt roads. We finally arrived at the head of the gorge where the canyon walls began to narrow. From this point there would be no more roads. We didn't know what to expect.

Our first challenge was to cross the river. We wasted at least 45 minutes here and I was starting to worry that our entire hike would be doomed from the beginning. The day before at the Bloomington Gauging Station upstream the water flowed at 110 cubic feet per second. Although an important statistic, this number meant nothing to us without practical experience in the water. This section was particularly narrow, which meant it would also be deep. How deep, we didn't know. A jungle of willows and tamarisk grew so densely along the banks that it was nearly impossible to reach the river. When we finally found a place to cut through, the drop-off from the bank to the water was three feet. We didn't dare jump in because we didn't know the depth of the water.

We decided to stay on the left bank and take a faint trail that led down-river. Our worry was that it would lead up the hill and would eventually ledge us up.

The trail led us higher and we had a good view looking down. On the opposite side was a dirt road that came to the water's edge and ended. We also saw a gauging station which created a little dam with water spilling over a concrete edge. This was a gauging station they use to calculate the depth and current flow per second. [I later learned that from this gauging station at the time of our hike the depth was 8.23 feet and flow 159 CFS.]

Virgin River gauging station.

Entering the gorge.

Luckily for us we didn't get ledged up. After rounding a corner we were able to pick our way down. There was still no simple way across the river, but access was now much easier.

We let Hank cross first. He was the tallest. Then Rob went and I followed. I had two hiking poles, which were life-savers. The water came to my lower thighs and was cold, but not ice-chilling. Every step was calculated. I felt the placement of my feet before putting weight on them. The bottom of the river undulated, giving low points and high points. In some places the mud was thick and my boots began to sink, but as long as I kept moving it wasn't an issue. With every step I had to focus on staying balanced against the rushing current.

It was a relief when we made it across that first time. In a literal and figurative sense, we were happy to get our feet wet. From this point forward things moved much more smoothly. We didn't hesitate to cross the river and were able to make good progress.

Second crossing of the river.

I should interject that in two months Rob would be 67 and Hank, 73. They were no spring chickens, but doing excellent for their age. Hank was old enough to be my dad. Both of them still use flip-phones. I hope to still be doing what they're doing when I'm that age.

Although we were making progress, there was nothing easy about this hike. Occasionally we would find a cattle trail or break in vegetation. This, undoubtedly, would always come to an end. Numerous times we crawled on hands and knees below the tangle of tamarisk, still to have our packs and clothing snag on branches.

Virgin River.

Hiking through a jungle of creosote bushes.

The river weaved back and forth across the floor of the canyon and often we would have no choice but to cross. Backtracking to find a way into the water became commonplace, and even then our entry points were usually sketchy. Of the dozens of crossings we did that day, the highest the water ever got was to the bottom of my rib cage.

When we weren't choked by vegetation the hike was a pleasant walk. A few yellow flowers still lingered, as well as different types of cactus. I scanned the slopes of the canyon for signs of bighorn sheep or Indian etchings on the varnished walls. I knew there were treasures out there to be discovered, but most of them would probably require a more in-depth search than what we had time for now.

The only gate we had to pass through.

The history of the Virgin River Gorge is quite telling. For the most part, people tried to avoid it. Indigenous tribes that predate written history passed through here. We know that because they left drawings on the walls. When the first trappers and settlers passed through it was the Shivwits Band of the Southern Paiute Tribe that lived nearby.

If there were any Spanish that passed through, I don't know of them. Father Escalante and his group came as close as the outskirts of modern-day Hurricane, Utah, but didn't pass through the gorge.

The earliest written account I know of involving a white man traveling through is that of Jedediah Smith, a fur trapper. His 1826 trip took him through the gorge, but when he returned a year later he avoided it by traveling along the Santa Clara River and over Utah Hill, later reuniting with the Virgin River on the other side of the Beaver Dam Mountains. It is likely that the local Shivwits apprised him of this alternate route.

Three years later in 1830, Antonio Armijo led an expedition from New Mexico to the San Gabriel Mission in California. He may have read notes from Jedediah Smith or someone else because he avoided the gorge also and took the route over Utah Hill. The Mormons who settled Southern Utah a couple decades later would also use the same route. The Virgin River Gorge, it was decided, was just too rugged and dangerous to be practical.

Taking a break on the Utah/Arizona border.

Looking up-canyon.

We took our first real break at the Utah / Arizona state line. Here there were no signs to mark the boundary; just a dotted line on my map. A major canyon merged with the river at this point, coming in from the west.

Along the entire length of the hike there were a few landmarks we looked forward to, the biggest one being the I-15 freeway bridge that crossed the gorge. Surprisingly I was able to get a GPS location on my phone that placed a blue dot on the map where we were at. Because of that we always knew our location. I determined we had a couple more curves in the river and one pronounced s-curve before the bridge. Encouraged that we were getting closer, we pressed forward.

One of the interesting curiosities of this river is the debris scattered along the high-ground. There's not so much to make it look trashy, but it's definitely there. Being part of the American Southwest, the Virgin River is prone to flash floods. I remember one flood in particular in 2005 that began on the Santa Clara River north of St. George, but eventually coalesced with the Virgin. The flood was so intense that river banks eroded and entire houses collapsed into the river and were swept away downstream.

Among the items we found were pieces of lumber, a bike handle, rubber raft, milk bucket, fully inflated basketball, a bicycle tire, soda cans and of course lots of driftwood. In some places the driftwood had settled on a rock . . . a good fifteen feet above the river!

Lots of debris carried down-river.

We pushed our way down the gorge, oftentimes very literally as we pushed through tangled branches. It was in this area where we first decided to walk in the river for longer stretches rather than fight the overgrowth on the banks. Walking in the water for a hundred yards at a time wasn't too bad as long as there weren't too many rocks or rapids.

We passed a curious-looking rectangular arch. I also kept an eye out for Indian petroglyphs that I knew were somewhere in this area. Our journey took us through a pronounced s-curve and then past the junction with Black Rock Canyon. At last we arrived at the bridge with I-15.

The bridge spanned from one side of the chasm to the other, with two piers planted on each side of the river. Looking up we could see the beams and girders on the underside of the bridge. We marveled at the modern structure and took note that as dozens of cars rushed by on the freeway above, absolutely none of them had any clue that three worn out hikers stood below.

An interesting rectangular arch.

The long-awaited I-15 bridge.

Crossing under the only bridge of the day.

From here we felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. It was 3 pm and we had about three more hours of sunlight. From here the gorge takes a sharp turn to the south and more or less parallels the freeway.

It was here I first noticed gathering storm clouds. We didn't worry too much because now we were within five miles or so from our destination and the canyon walls were more spread out. Although the thick growth along the banks was still an issue, it was no where near as thick as it had been earlier in the hike.

One of the neatest finds we came across was a baby turtle. Hank found it. He flipped it over with his walking stick and saw the legs and head retract into the shell. It was the size of a silver dollar and found on the shore of the river, just inches from the water.

A baby turtle!

A lot of caves and other places to explore later.

Inspecting the river.

Drops of rain began to fall but didn't amount to much.

Since this final stretch somewhat parallels the freeway, we often heard the sound of traffic in the distance. A person could park alongside the freeway and find a way down to the river if they so desired. Indeed there was much more surrounding area to be explored.

Here we noticed the first barrel cactus on the hillside. Another mile or two downriver we started spotting Joshua trees. Occasionally we stirred up quail nesting in the grass.

Barrel cactus along the route.

A crate from Summit Valley Milk, 1979.

Lots of walking in the river.

With a couple miles left to go the sun dipped below the horizon and we were now left to push our way in the dark. We all used a headlamp or flashlight. It now became more difficult to see ahead and strategize which way to go. Crossing or walking in the river was still a necessity. It was a miracle that none of us fell in.

By now we were very anxious to get this thing over with! Hank's wife, Barbara, was to meet us at the Cedar Pockets campground. Miraculously, Hank got cell service and told her to wait because we were running late.

As we got closer we could see the freeway traffic of I-15 in the north. To the west shined a lone light from the campground. That was our destination.

We crossed the river for the last time, then hiked up a hill and along a fence-line until we hit the campground road. Hank called Barbara and told her to meet us there. We were done!

Joshua trees silhouetted on the skyline.

This hike was one of the longer day-hikes I've ever done. In the end we hiked 17 miles in 13 hours; two of those were in the dark. There was very little about this hike that was easy. Much of it was spent walking in water or crawling on hands and knees.

We drove to a restaurant in St. George where three filthy and haggard men relished a meal of hamburgers and fries. Our plan was to finish the second half tomorrow, but we all agreed to do it another day. The hike had taken much longer than expected and there was also a chance of rain the next day. We certainly didn't need the river to be any higher.

To be continued . . .

Indian Creek to Mount Baldy (Peak #4)

For years I've had my eye on Mount Baldy in the Tushar Mountains. From Beaver, and even from the south, it is the most prominent peak, piercing the sky like a tooth. Yet, out of the major peaks in the Tushar range, it is also the most difficult to reach. 

The easiest route is from the northeast. Although the hiker has the benefit of starting at around 11,000 feet, he must ascend Mount Belknap first, which is also over 12,000 feet, and then traverse a ridge and scale a very steep pitch to the summit of Baldy. One thing that makes this approach difficult is that the access road is closed over half the year due to snow. 

The southeast ridge provides a more gradual slope to the top, but access to this ridge is difficult due to the fact that there are no nearby roads. There are probably a few other ways to scale Mount Baldy if one gets creative, but the truth is, not many people ever step foot on this peak. 

But I've had my eye on yet another approach: from Indian Creek Reservoir on the northeast side. As the crow flies, the distance between the two is just under three miles. There is no trail, and elevation gain is over 4,000 feet. The terrain between the two is daunting, to say the least. I have only heard one person express the desire to hike this route. I have never heard of anyone who has actually done it. 

I arrived at Indian Creek Reservoir the night before with my son, Jordan. We drove ten miles on a dirt road from the Manderfield exit, directly east up the canyon. We enjoyed sunset on the lake and marveled at the stars when they came out in full force. 

Marveling at the stars.

I had spent hours on Google Maps trying to decipher which route would be the best to take. I concluded that by taking a ridge just half a mile west of the reservoir would connect us to another larger ridge, which would in turn take us all the way to Baldy. The first half of the hike was entirely below the treeline, so the big wild factor would be how thick the growth would be on the lower ridges. I didn't want bush-whacking to stop us from our goal. 

And no matter how you sliced it, the hike would be steep.  Using the geometry equation to find the slope (rise over run), I determined that a straight line from starting point to peak would have an inline of 26%.

We took our time that morning and didn't get started until 9 am. We started up the ridge from the road, which was super steep in the beginning, but then mellowed out, but always angled upward. There had been a burn here several years ago, so most of the vegetation was young. 

This is the first ridge we climbed to gain the main ridge.

About half an hour into our ascent we assessed our location on Google Maps and realized that we were on the wrong ridge! We should have been on the ridge just east of us. We decided to stay the course because by this point a deep ravine separated the two ridges. Anyway, they would both take us to the same place. 

We saw a few does scamper out of the trees ahead. Other than that, we didn't see a lot of wildlife. Soon we came into an aspen grove that stood on a steeper slope. We used the sapling branches to pull ourselves up. After two hours of strenuous bushwhacking, we finally arrived at the larger ridge which ran west to east. 

Now on the main ridge.  You can see Mount Baldy (false summit) in the background.

From here we finally had a view! On the opposite side of the ridge stood a very deep canyon. Looking toward the east we could follow the ridge with our eyes and see the point where the trees ended and rock began. We could also see the distant peak we believed to be Mount Baldy. We would later learn it was a false summit. 

So, upward we trudged! 

This was a pretty section with lots of wildflowers. Aspens grew, but there were also a lot of downed trees from the fire. A flock of pine hens startled us, flying out of their hiding spaces one at a time, just yards ahead. 

This was one of the most painful parts for me. The slope was excruciating and at one point I had to stop every few minutes to take a short break. It was in this area that we passed the 10,000 foot level and came across our first patches of snow. 

The climb was extremely steep the entire way.

Pine hen.

Many wildflowers along the way.

At last we cleared the treeline. This meant we no longer had to push through sapling trees and step over fallen logs. But now the terrain came with shale rock. Lots of it. Most of it was loose, and since the slope was still so steep, with every step we sent loose rock tumbling down the mountain. But the silver lining was that now the view was spectacular. We had uninhibited vistas all around. We felt on top of the world. 

With the rock so loose, I was worried that we'd create a rock-slide that would take us down, and from this point, the bottom was at least a thousand feet away. Instead of climbing straight up, I decided it would be safer to take this section at an angle. We did so and eventually came across a game trail in the rock, probably from mountain goats. The trail was an ever so slight indention in the shale, which felt a bit more stable. 

We then came across another type of rock. These were bigger in size and ran down the slope like a silver streak. This was sturdier than the shale so we used it to climb directly to the upper ridge. 

Lots of loose shale.

Looking down toward Indian Creek Reservoir.

We found this strip of sturdy rock to climb on.

The grade leveled out a bit, which was a relief to our aching muscles. Now on top I could see both north and south. To the north Mount Belknap reigned like a giant. A massively deep basin sat between Belknap and us, along with several thick patches of snow. From this basin are the headwaters of Fish Creek, which runs for over a dozen miles until it merges with Clear Creek near I-70. 

It was from here that we had our first up-close view of Mount Baldy. Now we were able to see the steep ridge that we'd have to climb. I had seen this ridge from a distance during my scouting phase and worried that it would make our climb more difficult. Also, at this point we heard the first rumbling of thunder and felt fat drops of rain fall from the sky. At the moment, my fatigued instinct told me that we would not be able to summit. I hoped I was wrong. 

Back on the ridge looking toward the top.

We scanned the ridge for possible places to hide if the lightning came too close. We found a small cave in the rocks that could possibly fit both of us. But as we waited, the lightning stayed to the east and eventually died out. The rain stopped also. With this we were encouraged. 

It was in this general area that we began to see several interesting rock formations. Imprinted on the shale, as if with black ink, were the shapes of leaves and other plant-like figures called dendrites. I remember coming across these several years ago when I climbed Mount Belknap. I have only seen them here, and only at very high altitudes. Dendrites form by minerals that grow on the rocks in a delicate branching pattern.

Colorado Columbine growing near 11,300 feet.

Every view from this point was spectacular.

Dendrite formation on the rock.

Purple cushion phlox near the summit.

A nub of rock on the ridge forced us to delicately walk around. We tried the north side first, but the ground for our feet became unreliable. I was worried the rocks below us would collapse, and if that happened, it would be a long slide down. So we tried to circumvent it from the south side, and although still precarious, we succeeded in going around the nub. 

Now we were face to face with the steep ledge that separated us from Baldy. Up close it didn't look as bad. Our hike now turned into a Class 3 climb as we used both hands and feet to move our way up. We had to be careful, but there was no time that we felt in danger. 

We made it to the top of the steep ledge, excited to now be within walking distance of the summit. But much to our dismay as we looked up, we learned that the peak we had thought was Mount Baldy all along, was only a false summit! Behind it, and further up, we could see what was the true summit, for we could see the wooden sign that marked the top. 

Luckily for us, the space between the two summits consisted only of a minor saddle, of which we traversed with no problem. 

Amazing view from the summit! Belknap on left, and Blue Lake.

Now we made it onto the true summit of Mount Baldy and the panoramic view was truly amazing! We could see the remaining view of the Tushars: Mount Holly, Mount Brigham, Delano Peak, Shelly Baldy, Gold Mountain, Signal Peak and a slew of others. And most important of all, I looked down into the deep ravine on the east of Baldy and saw the turquoise waters of Blue Lake. I had hiked there once many years ago and was excited to see this little gem again. 

There were two signs on the peak, each with a different elevation. Even the internet gives a third elevation. Who knows which is correct? 

Jordan found the log book that was stashed inside a mailbox. To our surprise, we were the first ones to summit Mount Baldy this year (this day being July 22). 

Fish Creek Basin and Mount Belknap.

One of the prettiest summits I've ever been on.

Happy to be on top.

Our trek to the top took us just over six hours. I was elated to be up there with such a grand view, especially after doubting that we'd even make it just an hour earlier. My legs told me to enjoy the view because they didn't want to ever come up here again. But I knew that they'd eventually change their mind! 

We spent forty minutes at the summit. As I took it all in, I contemplated on different routes I might take to the top, hopefully routes that weren't as difficult. But if I never made it up here again, I would be satisfied. 

One of two signs on the summit, each with a different elevation.

Storm clouds rolling by.

The trip down was easier and took less time, but was no walk in the park. Along the way we enjoyed wildflowers and a grove of manzanita. Surprisingly we didn't see any wildlife, other than small critters. 

By the time we had reached the vehicle we had been hiking for eleven hours and fifteen minutes. It had taken much longer than I had anticipated. At the car we pulled off our packs and let out a sigh of relief. Then we walked to the creek and pulled out the icy-cold pack of Mountain Dew! ♠ 

 

Now for the long hike down.

And you can't forget the Mountain Dew!

Mount Baldy

 

Miles from car (one way): 6 miles

Elevation gain: 4,282 feet

Final Elevation: 12,082 feet 

 

Looking back on the false summit of Mount Baldy.