Sunday October 20th was our last day in Utah. We had an outfitter lined up to take us to the Whitepocket in the afternoon, so we had the morning to kill. We decided to head over to the Rimrock Hoodoos, which were just a short distance down the road from Paria Outfitters. We did the short hike of about a mile in to the hoodoos, and spent the morning shooting here. We had the place to ourselves, and it was pleasantly quiet until late morning, when a few other hikers began to arrive. But, by this time we were packing up for the for the short hike out, and looking forward to experiencing Whitepocket...
We rolled into the yard of Paria Outpost. It is right on Highway 89, near the Paria River, about 40 miles east of Kanab. We had met Steve Dodson a couple of days prior out at the Wave. So many people, including several hikers out at the Wave, some tourists at the BLM office, and the two hikers that we gave a ride to, out of Wire Pass, had told us about Whitepocket and stressed that we just had to see it. This small area is near the South Coyote Buttes, and beyond the boundaries of the restricted area. Like the Wave it is just over the state line in Arizona. No special permit is required to go in to this area. We had been warned about attempting to drive out to it by ourselves, even with a four wheel drive. It is about 14 miles off the main road, through rough terrain of loose sand and rocky outcrops. Never having driven in sand before, and needing my truck to get us back home, I was a little gun shy to try it on our own. The three of us eventually agreed to pay for an outfitter to take us there. We contacted Steve Dodson of Paria Outpost, and discovered that he was heading out there on this day, with Francis, a digital photographer from Michigan.
This was the same guy that he had been with out at the Wave, a couple of days prior. We were disappointed to learn that he was not heading out until noon, but this being the last day of our time here, we really had no other choice. Francis was late arriving at the Outpost and by the time we piled all of our gear into Steve's Suburban, it was approaching 1:00PM. We were beginning to get pretty anxious and were hoping we'd have enough time to properly explore and photograph the area.
Steve was a really cool guy and we immediately hit it off. He was obviously well suited to his job and was a real people person, continually rattling off little one-liners and jokes and he kept up a running commentary. But he also knew the area like the back of his hand. We headed out from his place for a short distance down Highway 89 before turning off on the House Rock Valley Road. We rattled down this rough road, that had by now become quite familiar to us, for about 10 miles. Shortly after setting out Steve cranked up the radio in his Suburban, looked back at us and said, "I sure hope you all like the Grateful Dead... 'cause I ain't turning it down, and I ain't turning it off". This would be the first of many little tidbits that Steve tossed our way.
Everyone warned us that if we were going to attempt to drive out to Whitepocket on our own, not to attempt the Paw Hole Road. Steve initially drove past this turn off, but then screeched to a halt, headed back and turned onto the Paw Hole Road. His only comment... "what the hell, let's go this way, its' shorter". As we pounded along through this rough country we were grateful that we had hired Steve. Not only was the road rough with a lot of loose sand, but there was a maze of roads out here and we never we have found our way onto the right ones. Steve just knew exactly where he was going and didn't even have to slow down to think about which way to go. We passed by an old abandoned ranch after a while, and continued on for another six miles or so, eventually arriving at Whitepocket. Steve provided us each with a bag lunch, and sort of left us on our own. Initially he was a little concerned about letting us wander off out of his sight, but eventually he kind of gave up and let us go as we pleased.
Whitepocket is an area about 2 miles long and 1 mile wide. It kind of looks like someone took a big bowl of two different kinds of pudding, whipped them up into a bunch of swirls and piles, and then it dried out and became petrified. It is on a relatively high outcrop, overlooking a large expanse of land to the northwest, with the high plateau of Bryce Canyon vaguely visible a hundred or more miles away. It was about 2:00 in the afternoon before we actually got our camera gear out and started shooting. Our concerns about not having enough time quickly disappeared as it became obvious that we would run out of film long before we ran out of light. We shot until dark and eventually made our way back to the Suburban. We waited here for quite a while as Francis continued to shoot until the last ray of sunlight had disappeared. As we were packing our gear back into the truck for the drive back to the Outpost we noticed that the rear passenger tire was nearly flat. It was common practise to let some air out of the tires when driving in loose sand, but this was well beyond that. We helped Steve to seal the tire with a couple of cans of puncture seal, and then added some air with a small 12V compressor. By the time we were ready to hit the trail it was dark. We never would have found our way out in the darkness and this is where once again it became obvious that hiring Steve had been a really good idea. Besides, he was just a really entertaining guy. One of his jokes was... "What time is it in Utah?... 50 years ago!" This came about as we discussed world politics, the current financial situation in the United States, and the fact that Utah's population consists of around 80% mormons, of which 99% are ultra right wing conservatives.
It took about an hour and a half to drive out from Whitepocket and back over to the Outpost. Steve dropped us off at his place where we had left my truck. We all paid him the outfitting fee, and tipped him for the great service. His parting words were... "Pray for us Americans... if we don't get it right we're dragging you all down with us".
It was late in the evening before we arrived back at the house in Kanab. There was no need to load any film on this night after our evening meal, as we would be hitting the road for home in the morning. We quietly packed up all our gear and tidied things up around the house, in preparation for our departure.
The next morning we hit the road for home. We made it as far as Helena, Montana on that first 12 hour day of driving. After a bite to eat in a local restaurant we checked into a motel. The next morning we hit the road bright and early and continued north towards home. We made a quick stop at the duty free store in Sweetgrass, Montana and bought a few bottles of cheap booze before crossing the 49th back into Canada. We had no issues at the border and crossed quickly and easily. By evening we were back home and our adventure came to an end.
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