Southeastern Utah Tour, March 27-28 2026

It got cold enough during the early morning hours of Friday to run the heater in the camper, but I don't think it dipped below freezing. I got up at first light and had a leisurely breakfast. But I still got the camper packed up and was on the road before sunrise.

At Ely, I had the choice of going north on U.S. 93 or continuing west on U.S. 6. Brian and I had driven south along highway 93 on our trip to Zion and the Grand Canyon, and going north on U.S. 93 would more or less commit me to going through Twin Falls and taking interstates the rest of the way home. Also, the region of U.S. 6 west of Ely is marked as scenic, so I was confident that it was the better choice.

Moorman Ridge and mountains beyond

It was slightly overcast that day, so not too hot. The road there is consistent with my fly-over impressions: long stretches of arrow-straight roads crossing broad valleys, punctuated by sections of winding road that thread their way over the occasional ridge.

Big Smoky Valley

Toiyabe Peaks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Near Thousand Creek Gorge

I drove west through Eureka, and then turned north at Austin. At Battle Mountain, I got on I-80 and drove west to Winnemucca. I drove into town to take on fuel and buy some produce for dinner. Compared to the tiny railroad siding that it was in 1977, Winnemucca was almost unrecognizable. It's now a bustling city with every kind of store (that is, all the national chains) and grand casinos. In the grocery store, I was particularly impressed that an entire aisle (both sides) was devoted to distilled liquor.

From Winnemucca, I drove north on U.S. 95 and then turned off S.R. 140 to Denio. There, I took on additional fuel (at a premium) for my trek across the desert. There's not much evidence of human activity between Denio and Lakeview. Most of the area around the highway is devoted to rangeland and wildlife preserves. Even so, it possesses a stark beauty, as well as some nice highway engineering.

Steep grade signs mark the approach to the Doherty Slide, where the road loses about 1000 feet over 2 1/2 miles. It was getting late in the afternoon as I drove on toward Blizzard Gap, so I started looking for a side road that might provide a suitable camping spot.

Sunset near Blizzard Gap

Just past the gap, there's a jeep road that heads north into the BLM lands. I drove in through a wash and then found a side road that led to a wellhead and watering trough. It was a nice level spot about 1/4 mile from the highway and that was good enough. Only a few trucks passed as I was making dinner, and none went by after dark.

 

I was up again at dawn on Saturday and soon underway. I drove through Adel and on to Lakeview, where I refilled the fuel tank. From there, I took the scenic route (S.R. 31) past Summer Lake and La Pine to Bend. From Bend, I took the fastest route home -- following U.S. 26 to Portland and then taking I-5 back to Seattle.

Southeastern Utah Tour, March 26 2026

On Thursday, I was up and driving into Capitol Reef National Park around dawn. I noted that there were several RVs parked in another pullout on the right side of the road, which I guessed was just outside the park's boundary to the east.

Capitol Dome

Near Capitol Dome, looking southeast

I stopped near the Capitol Dome to photograph some of the scenery. What struck me particularly was the new green leaves on the trees along the Fremont River contrasted with the red rocks on the canyon walls. 

A bit further on, there is a short walk along a catwalk, which leads to a view of a petroglyph panel. This panel is better preserved than others I saw on the same trip. The catwalk is enclosed by a railing, which evidently discourages the less-determined graffitists.

As I drove toward the visitor center, I saw a sign that pointed to the Grand Wash, and thought that might be a good place for a hike. I drove through the historic town of Fruita, where commercial orchards are still in operation. I had thought that Fruita might be a backup fuel stop in case the prices in Hanksville had been too high. But even though the town is marked on the map, it only actually exists in memory. There is a one-room stone schoolhouse to represent the community the formerly existed, and a few modern residences. Aside from the orchards, that's about the extent of present-day Fruita.

I reached the visitor center before it had opened, so I helped myself to a park brochure and used that to plan my visit. I decided that I would drive along the scenic drive through that part of the park, and see what hikes I found attractive. I wanted to fill my water bottles, but the fill station was closed. A sign directed me to a fill station at the picnic area near the Gifford House, but that fill station was also closed. I had to fill my bottles in the camper.

Entering the gorge

At the top of Capitol Gorge

As I drove along, I noted that there was a large parking lot at the top of the Grand Wash. I thought that I might hike down through the wash, pushing my bike, and then ride back along the highway to complete a loop. When I reached the end of the paved road, I pulled off into a picnic area. There was a sign on the road which warned that the maximum vehicle length on the dirt road leading on was 23'. With the bike rack on the back, the truck is slightly longer than that. So I chose to leave the camper there and proceed by bike.

Capitol Gorge

The Golden Throne

It turned out that the road down to the Capitol Gorge trailhead would have been easy to drive down. But since I was already there on bike, I parked it next to a sign and hiked into the gorge. 

The trail through the gorge passes another petroglyph panel, which contained a few pictures left by the original inhabitants. There were also dated inscriptions from pioneers that had passed that way in the 1800s. Those later additions seemed to encourage recent visitors to make further contributions even though this is expressly illegal. The latest addition was just a date: 1-12-2026 -- the visitor too cowardly to add a name or even initials, but still bold enough (I guess) to make the transgression.

The Narrows

The trail leads further down the gorge through "The Narrows", and onward to a spur which climbs the south wall of the canyon to "The Tanks". The Tanks are a series of pools that hold water and support the wildlife that resides nearby. After visiting The Tanks, I returned to my bike and rode back up out of the gorge.

One of The Tanks

I returned to the dirt road leading down to the Grand Wash Trailhead. Along the way, I took a picture of the "Book Cliffs" -- an outcropping of tightly-spaced layers of red sandstone. This time, I ignored the "max vehicle length" sign and drove right down to the trailhead parking lot. Some hikers were just pulling out as I turned around, so I was able to snag a parking spot in the lot proper. By the time I returned, the lot was packed, and people were parking along the side of the road further and further from the trailhead.

Cliffs along the Capitol Gorge

The Book Cliffs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bikes are not allowed on trails within the National Park, but I figured that by pushing the bike rather than riding it down the trail I was at least obeying the spirit of the law if not the letter. If challenged, I would have hoisted the bike onto my shoulder and turned it into "a rather awkward package". But other hikers seemed undisturbed by my boldness, so I walked the bike down the length of the wash.

A view north from the Slickrock Divide

Entering the Grand Wash

When I reached the highway at its northeast end, I sat in the shade of an overhanging rock and ate my lunch. Then, I mounted the bike and rode all the way back to the Grand Wash Trailhead. When some people in a camper van saw me loading up my bike, they started to wait for me to leave, so I didn't tarry.

Passing this way

was an act of faith 

I had checked the water tank the night before, and found that I had used more than half of its 16 gallons since refilling at the Green River State Park. I thought it might be useful to top it up before venturing out across the western Utah desert -- which I planned to do later in the day. I stopped at the campground and found that it was easy enough to pull into the trailer dump station -- which also had potable water available. 

A characteristic view near Fruita

showing the rock layers angled upward 

After that, I drove to the Gifford house, since signs had advertised that it had pies available. Presumably, the pies are made with fruit harvested from the nearby orchards when it is in season. I found no pies in the store -- just jams and the like, souvenirs and ice-cream novelties. I decided there was nothing there to tempt me, so my visit to the Gifford House lasted about a minute.

Another iconic view

near the Grand Wash turnoff 

As I drove toward the west side of the park, I stopped again at the Panorama Point overlook. It does offer an impressive view of the valley stretching away toward the southeast.

For the next part of my adventure, I had decided to follow U.S. 6 west across the desert, and see if I could find camping somewhere in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest just inside the Nevada border. I had driven across the Great Salt Desert on I-80 many times, and wanted to see a different part of western Utah. My route took me through Loa to Salina -- where I refueled -- then on to Scipio and finally Delta -- where I refueled again. Heading west from there, I again encountered signs warning that no services were available for the next 97 miles. So off I went into the void.

There was a high overcast west of Delta, so it was not too hot. The first part passes Sevier Lake, a mostly-dry basin to the south. There are Dense Fog warning signs along the roadway, and I noticed some steam rising in that direction -- indications that the lake actually contains water in the early spring.

About halfway across the desert, the road rises to a low pass across the Confusion Range. In airplane flights over the West, I have sometimes visually followed roads that run arrow-straight across the desert for tens of miles, then zig-zag up over a pass and then run on arrow-straight for many more miles. I suppose that U.S. 6 is one of the roads I had studied from the air, and it's zig-zag was the very same pass.

The mountains in the Confusion Range are composed of a dark grey rock whose summits appear to be barren of any vegetation. The lower slopes -- even in this wet season -- are adorned with tawny scrub. There is no evidence of running water anywhere. Even though the peaks are not particularly tall, I wonder how many of them have been visited by man. If remoteness is gauged by the distance it would take to travel to the nearest water source, there are only a few places on earth that are further from civilization.

By late afternoon, I had driven as far as the Nevada border, where I took on some more fuel. I decided to take a chance on finding an open campsite inside the Great Basin National Park (the existence of which had only come to my attention earlier in the day through signs posted along the highway).

I drove to Baker, and stopped at the visitor center to pick up a map. The park contains several campgrounds, so I felt confident that I could find a place to stay the night. The road into the park climbs steadily, and the first spur to the right leads to the Lower Lehman Creek Campground. Signs at the intersection indicated that only that campground was open.

I reached the campground and found two spots in the recently-opened lower loop. I left the truck in one spot, but by the time I'd returned the kiosk I had decided that the other one was the one I preferred. A sign at the kiosk indicated that all campsites must be reserved online. I found that my preferred site was open, but when I started to make the reservation on my phone it got to a point where I needed to log in. My login information is on my laptop but not my phone, so I returned to the camper and continued the process from there. By the time I had found my password and logged in, the site was no longer available. And in the next few minutes, someone drove in and started setting up camp.

Since the site I was in had already been reserved, I decided to hang out and see what happened. At least, I needed to have dinner. I proceeded to prepare my meal with the expectation that I might have to pack up and move on at any moment.

That did not happen. In the next few hours, several other travellers came into the campground and drove around slowly, looking for an empty site. One even moved aside cones next to a sign indicating that the site they were blocking was not yet available (for reasons that were difficult to perceive), and set up their camp there. But noone challenged my right to occupy the site I was in, so I lucked out in the end. Around 11, I concluded that I could stay where I was and turned in for the night.

Southeastern Utah Tour, March 25 2026

On Wednesday, I arose before dawn. I had my coffee and some cereal, and then broke camp as quickly and quietly as I could.

My general plan was to drive around the south and west of the Bears Ears National Monument and then camp somewhere further west, passing through Capitol Reef National Park along the way. I did not want to drive as far south as Arizona and end up retracing some of the roads that Brian and I had travelled on our visit to the Grand Canyon. The route through Bears Ears includes a stretch of 120 miles between Blanding and Hanksville that contains no gas stations. I was concerned about the camper's limited range. But in the end, my desire for adventure won out over practical considerations and I put the plan into action. It turned out to be an inspired choice.

I drove to Monticello and filled the tank there. I phoned home to relate my plans -- to the extent that they had congealed -- for the back end of the trip. Then, I continued on to Blanding where I topped up the tank before striking out across the National Monument.

Comb Ridge Pass

There is a rock cut at the top of Comb Ridge, followed by a steep downgrade. I stopped about mid-morning to admire this piece of highway engineering. It was a pretty little valley with a campground at the bottom. A place to return to sometime, perhaps.

The landscape in Natural Bridges

Driving on, I reached the top of a long rise and started down the grade on the other side. At the top, there had been a road off to the right with the sign, "Natural Bridges National Monument". I decided that I had enough time in my schedule and sufficient fuel in the tank to afford a visit to the Natural Bridges. Maybe I had seen enough of stone arches in Arches National Park. But the formations in Natural Bridges National Monument turned out to be quite different. Also, pleasantly, that national monument is much less crowded than the Park.

I spent the late morning and a good part of the afternoon viewing the natural bridges. The natural bridges are named Sipapu, Kachina and Owachome, and are arranged around a one-way scenic drive through the monument. I visited each in turn. In order to get a proper view, I hiked down into the canyon and viewed each bridge from below.

Sipapu Bridge (right eye)

Sipapu Bridge (left eye)

The Sipapu bridge is easily visible from the overlook, but because the rocks behind it are the same color, it does not "pop". At this point, I had the idea to take pictures in pairs, so that they can be viewed in stereo.

The hike down to the Sipapu Bridge is about 3/4 of a mile and goes around behind the arch as viewed from the overlook. The path includes stairways and ladders. A spur leads out onto a rock ledge, which gives a particularly nice view of the bridge. The trail descends further, so the bridge can be viewed from below.

Sipapu Bridge

Sipapu Bridge from below

Flood debris against trees

On the far side of the stream flowing under the Sipapu Bridge, I found debris wrapped around tree trunks. The trees are growing in a shelf of sediment that is 16' above the level of the stream. From this, I can deduce that some time in the last decade there has been a flash flood that caused the stream to rise 20' above its normal level. I remarked that being in such a canyon during a rain storm would be fascinating and terrifying.

After climbing back out of the valley, I went to the rock shelf to view the Sipapu Bridge from the overlook. This stereo view shows that it would not be too hard for a person to find his way to the top of the span from the other side. But if the same rules apply as in Arches NP, then walking on the natural bridge is not permitted.

Sipapu from overlook (right eye)

Sipapu from overlook (left eye)

Horsecollar Ruins

A bit further on, there is a viewpoint for the Horsecollar Ruins. These are cliff dwellings along the same stream that runs under the Sipapu Bridge. The lighting was not ideal, but I managed to capture an image of the ruins.

Next, I visited the overlook for the Kachina Bridge. Viewing this bridge from below also involved a hike of about 3/4 of a mile down into the canyon. Unlike the Sipapu Bridge, the trail down into the canyon does not involve steps and ladders. But there are still places where one has to place one's feet carefully.

Kachina Bridge (right eye)

Kachina Bridge (left eye)

Kachina Bridge has the longest span of the three. Hiking down below it is truly rewarding, since only by standing under the bridge can one really appreciate its scale. In fact, it is so large that it does not fit conveniently into a frame. I made several attempts to create a panoramic view from the floor of the arch across its chord and back down to the floor. But the camera app rebelled. I think it uses the accelerometer to gauge whether the phone is being held vertically. The way I was using it, that assumption was never true.

A pool of water deep in the canyon

Kachina Bridge from below

From close to the rim of the canyon, I could see a pool of water down in the valley. Having a dependable supply of water must have been immeasurably valuable to the native people. 

After I climbed back to the rim, I walked out across the flat rock for about a quarter of a mile, to see if I could get a view up the canyon on either side of the point. The answer was, "not really", so I headed back to the camper and drove on to the Owachomo Bridge Overlook.

Owachomo Bridge (right eye)

Owachomo Bridge (left eye)

 

The Owachomo Bridge is the smallest of the three, and is also the bridge closest to the roadway. A quarter-mile hike takes one to the bottom of the arch. The best view was from partway down rather than fully under the bridge.

Looking upstream

The Colorado River Bridge at Hite Crossing

It was mid-afternoon when I resumed my journey toward Hanksville. It was clear by then that I would not make it further than the Capitol Reef National Park that day. I had noted that my chosen route crossed the Colorado at the extreme northern end of Lake Powell (Hite Crossing). I hiked down to get a good view of the arch bridge across the river, and to take a picture of the river flowing in from the east. 

In Hanksville, gasoline was priced a bit higher than what I had paid in Monticello, but it was still not outrageous. I filled the tank and continued on toward the Park. I hoped that I might find camping within the park, but as I drew close to its eastern border, I also scanned the side of the road for likely camping spots. My search was rewarded when I spied a large pullout, with a small camp spot tucked in among the willows right next to the Fremont River. I backed into the spot and started setting up my camp. I was a bit concerned that I might be inside the park boundary, but studying the map showed that I was still at least a mile away.

The brush didn't offer much of a screen between the camp spot and the roadway. But there were long intervals between the vehicles that went by. I thought I could get away with taking a shower in the open air. So I fired up the water heater and had my shower after dinner. I was planning to spend at least some time in the Capitol Reef National Park the next day.

Southeastern Utah Tour, March 24 2026

Early on Tuesday, I drove to the Needles Overlook, and captures some of the sculpted terrain in the rising sun. From that vantage, one can see well into the Island-in-the-Sky District of Canyonlands as well as the Needles District. In between, Lockhart Basin Road  leads down into an active ranch inside the Bears Ears National Monument.

Junction Butte and the White Rim

Next, I turned around and headed back to U.S. 191 and turned off on the Park Highway (Utah 211). I stopped to view the Newspaper Rock, which had some prehistoric petroglyphs as well quite a few examples of idiotic modern graffiti. There was also evidence that people with more bullets than brains had scarred the rock with pot-shots.

 

Sixshooter Buttes

The cliffs near Indian Creek

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The road winds down along Indian Creek, which is flanked by picturesque cliffs. Further along, there are views of North and South Sixshooter Buttes.

The Devil's Kitchen

At the visitor center, I indicated my intention to take my bike in to the Confluence Overlook Trailhead and hike to the overlook from there. The ranger issued a permit for the bike trip. I drove to the Elephant Hill trailhead and parked in the lower parking lot. With lunch and 3 liters of water in my knapsack, I rode the short distance to the start of the start of the jeep road.

From the bottom, it was obvious that the truck would never have made it. The so-called road looked like a pile of boulders with some sand poured over it. Normal-length vehicles with 12" of ground clearance were picking their way through. At the top of the first rise, there was a turn-around so jeeps could go up the next pitch. The turn-around did not have enough room for the truck. So if I had made it that far, I would have had to give up and back down.

It would be an excellent road for proving your jeep's mettle. Lots of drivers had also proven that their jeeps contained metal, because there were streaks of metal across the tops of many rocks in the road. Further on, the road passes through a narrow canyon whose floor is a series of rock steps. The formation is called the "Silver Stairs" and one can see why: Most of the steps are adorned with metal shavings.

Where the road goes is not obvious

Yes, that's the road.

At the top of the ridge, the road goes across a level slab of rock some 20' across and then disappears. The Park staff has put up a helpful sign, to indicate that there is at least the intention of a road leading in that direction. It is another steep pitch over a pile of boulders that leads to an apparent dead-end. At the end of that parking space, there is a sign that reads, "Pull in and back down". At the bottom of the second pitch, there is a similar sign that reads "Pull in and back up". So backing over piles of boulders is a necessary part of the fun.

Rewinding the story a little bit: As I started up the first pitch from the parking lot, I noticed a caravan of 4 jeeps behind me. I pulled the bike off to the side and let them pass. They smiled and waved as they drove past. At the top of the pitch, there were two jeeps in the turn-around and two more waiting for room to enter. I shouldered my bike and climbed past the whole troupe. The first jeep started down from the top of the ridge as I was carrying my bike past the boulders. I didn't like the feeling of having 2 tons of steel hanging onto the rock face above me, so I lifted the bike off the trail and let them go ahead. But while they paused to find a likely path through the next set of boulders, I found I was better prepared for the terrain. I said, "I'll just go ahead," and I did.

Very soon, I was at least a quarter of a mile further down the road than the lead vehicle, and never saw any of the four again. As the ranger had warned, there was a lot of sand in the wheel tracks. When it was shallow it made the going smoother, which was nice. When it was deeper, it slowed me down. Occasionally I used the retarding effect of the sand to keep from going to fast. But mostly, it required extra effort to push through. And quite often, I had to dismount and push the bike through deep sand until I found a more solid road surface.

After a mile and a half, the road splits into a loop. It's marked one-way only, clockwise around the loop. On the far side of the loop, the road is two-way for another 4 miles down to the confluence overlook. 

Close-up of scratches on the canyon wall

My bike in The Devil's Pocket

On the first part of the loop that leads to the Devil's Kitchen Camp, there is a slot canyon called the Devil's Pocket that is just wide enough for a car to pass through. Or rather, it is just wide enough to let most cars pass through. There are scratches and streaks of metal on one wall of the canyon, where some drivers have discovered there's not enough horizontal clearance.

A very old juniper

Before reaching the Devil's Pocket, I had stopped at a little pull-out to rest and rehydrate a bit. I found that I was sitting in the shade of a juniper tree. My attention was drawn to the size of the trunk -- which to me suggested that the tree must several centuries old. I felt compelled to take a picture of that fine specimen.

After passing through the Devil's Pocket, I stopped for a short rest underneath a prominent rock formation. Perhaps it is only remarkable because the road passes so close to it, because there are thousands of such rock spires within the few surrounding square miles. Just a short distance away, there is a sweeping view of the Devil's Kitchen, filled with prominent examples.

The Devil's Kitchen

From the narrow passage,  the road heads west through a broader canyon and then meets up with the Devil's Lane. This runs mostly north-south through a broad wash and at the north end arcs around to the Confluence Overlook Trailhead. Much of the Devil's Lane had deep sand in the ruts, so I ended up pushing the bike for about a mile in total. That portion of the loop also contains the Silver Stairs mentioned earlier.

When I reached the far side of the loop -- where the road back to the parking lot is one-way once again -- I found a small, scalable rock formation. There were two bikes parked at the base of the rock, so I thought I might find the riders and joke about being so far from any water source on such a hot day. But after climbing to the top I found noone, so I decided to press on. I wanted to prove that I could reach the Confluence Overlook Trailhead faster than anyone in a jeep, so I decided to have my lunch only after I reached there.

It was easier going and mostly downhill from the rock formation. In another 30 minutes, I covered the last 4 miles and ate my lunch sitting at the picnic table there. As I was snacking, a family of 4 came back from the overlook. They said that the overlook was just beyond the rocks visible at the top of the bowl to the west. I joked about how I could have left my bike lock back at the trailhead, given how remote the trailhead was. The dad and younger son got into the diesel Touareg that was parked there, while the mother and older son started off on bikes. The Touareg does not have near the ground clearance of some of the other 4WD vehicles that were attempting the drive, so I was amazed that they had managed to get it all the way down to the overlook trailhead. 

Confluence of the Colorado and Green Rivers

After my lunch, I hiked out to the confluence overlook and took pictures. The Green River has an obvious greenish tinge compared to the Colorado, so it is obvious where the former got its name.

 

The short one-way section heading back toward the parking lot passes through Devil's Canyon. There are more of the rock formations characteristic of the area, which can be viewed close-up. (One can also hike into the Devil's Kitchen, but that wasn't in my plans for the day.)

It was about 3:30 when I got back to the camper. I thought I might see if there was a spot open in the Needles Campground and stay within the Park for the night. But as I drove back toward the junction, I saw the same white VW Touareg parked in a pull-out with its hood up. I pulled the camper off the road, and offered to help. The dad said he recognized me from the trailhead earlier, and introduced himself as Jared. He said that the serpentine belt had slipped off the front of the engine, and he was trying to get it back into place.

I watched for a bit as he tried to figure out its path among the pulleys. We both believed that it needed to make nearly a full turn around the crank pulley and water pump, but it was not obvious where it hit the idler pulleys and the tensioner among those and other accessories on the engine. Some cars have a diagram inside the engine compartment to show the path that the belt should follow. This was not one of those cars. After a while, I said, "Let me try."

I proceeded to work at the problem logically, explaining my reasoning as I went along. Some of the support arms were place so that the belt could loop around the nearby pulleys in only one way. I soon had the belt properly positioned on the driver's side of the engine. We tried a few possibilities, and finally decided that the belt passed over an idler and around the tensioner before picking up the alternator on the top of the engine.

Just routing the belt correctly took about half an hour. Then came the problem of getting it to actually pass over the idler and tensioner. Jared used a Torx driver to compress the spring on the tensioner. But even with it fully compressed, there was not enough slack to move the belt easily onto the idler. (We had decided that it would be easier to add the idler last, since trying to move the belt onto the tensioner as the last step required too many hands in one place.) We tried a number of methods -- including looping some strap around the belt and using that to pull the belt onto the idler pulley. But every attempt failed. We were also getting concerned that the hex cavity in the tensioner and/or the Torx driver were getting stripped out, and we would soon lose the ability to move the tensioner at all.

However, I noticed while pulling on the strap that I could compress the tensioner spring using the belt itself. I suggested that we both pull up on the belt and brute-force it into place. That method worked.

After that success, Jared invited me to join the family at their campsite for dinner. I recognized the desire to repay my kindness and I thought it might be nice to become better acquainted, so I agreed. I also mentioned that it was getting late and I had not yet secured a campsite. I suggested that I might share their campsite, and this idea was accepted. Finally, I said that I had planned to drive to the end of the Big Spring Canyon Overlook. So we arranged to meet back at their campsite around 6.

I drove out to the overlook, but found that it did not offer much in comparison with the views I had taken in earlier in the day. So I drove back to the campground. I treated sharing the family's campsite as a last resort, so I cruised the other loop in the campground, to see if there were any sites open. There appeared to be two that were vacant, so I went to the campground host to see if that was true. He evidently loved to chat, and in the course of the conversation divulged that the ADA site became available for general occupation at 8pm. If I returned at that time and found it still vacant, then I could stay there for the night (after paying the fee, of course).

Armed with that knowledge, I returned to the family's campsite and had dinner with them. I shared my Spindrift sodas and potato chips, and we had a simple dinner of macaroni and cheese with salad and green beans. I got to know the family a bit: they had driven over from Colorado Springs during the schools' Spring Break. The two boys were 11 and 14, so probably not yet in high school.

After dinner, I said that there was a possibility that I could get my own campsite so I didn't have to impose. But I would return within a few minutes and let them know either way. Evidently, the ADA expiration time was common knowledge, and there were already two other campers occupying the ADA site at 10 minutes before the hour. So I gave up that idea and returned to the family from Colorado Springs.

As they were finishing setting up their tents and sleeping bags, I mentioned that I had brought along my telescope. I set up the instrument so that everyone could see Jupiter with its 4 inner moons. Jupiter is close enough at this time that the bands can be seen clearly at maximum magnification (50x). My other go-to astronomical stunt is to bring the Horsehead Nebula into view. This I did, so the boys could see that interesting object in the sky. I explained the physics behind absorption spectra and how that could be used to determine the chemical composition of such a cloud.

After that, I packed up the telescope and we all went to bed. I promised to be gone by 7  the following morning.