A Weekend Off in Utah

So I turned the car around and headed south away from the storm, with no definite destination in mind. When I saw clear skies, I stopped and pulled out a road map. I was near the town of Nephi. What might be interesting near here? My camping gear was in the trunk, and I had two days before I had to be back at work in Provo. I could drive five hours south to Zion National Park. It was already 10am, so that seemed too much time in the car. What was closer? There, to the west on the map, was the Little Sahara Recreation Area. I wondered what that was and turned west.

I found out at the Bureau of Land Management Visitor Center that it is a large area of sand dunes, some nearly 700 feet high, managed as a dune buggy, ATV, motorbike, and all sorts of noisy conveyance playground. I considered staying in the campground for the night, so I asked the Ranger, "Do I register for a campsite here or at the campground?"

He replied, “The camping is covered in your entry fee. Just pick any site.”

"Where is a good place to go hiking?"

"Not here!” he said to emphasize that the primary recreational use of this place was motorized recreation. He pointed out on the map two small fenced in areas reserved for foot traffic and “sand play.”

I decided to keep my options open as I started to explore the place. I drove to the campground first. I noticed that there were not clearly visible roads through the campground to guide you to the numbered campsites. Instead, there was a maze of juniper trees and tire tracks in the sand. Between them an occasional camper van or pickup truck, etc. were parked where they seemed to decide was a campsite. There were lots … let me rephrase that… LOTS of four wheel ATVs bopping all around the junipers, all piloted by youngsters.

Parallel to the entrance road on the other side of this elongated, narrow “campground” was a split rail fence with signs declaring it off limits to vehicles. That was the edge of the pedestrian area. So I found a convenient gap between the junipers, parked the car, and set out in my hiking boots under the fence and into the sand dunes.

I was facing a dune that towered above me by at least twenty feet. The slope was a steep forty-five degrees. I took it on at an angle

My first lesson in sand dunes was that on steep slopes, you feet sink in up to the middle of you shins.

My second lesson was that this delicately fine sand poured into your boots and socks like water. Suddenly my boots were heavier and tighter on my feet. But I forged on. I had to use my hand on the sand for balance a few times. If the spot was in the sunlight, it was quite warm to the touch, in the shade, downright chilly.

Eventually, I reached the top to see taller dunes beyond as the next challenge. All I could see from there was sand and sky and a giant candy striped pole they placed there to help you keep from getting lost. Once I got past that first ridge, I could no longer hear the buzz of ATVs in the campground. Instead, I heard louder roars of big engines ahead of me.

When I reached the top of the highest dune, I could see the extent of the fenced in area. Beyond the fence, lay more dunes with big dune buggies and motor cycles zipping all around like yearling fawns. They were each doing their own thing, roaring up this sand slope and down the next for the sheer joy of motion. I am glad there is a place like this where people can participate in such sport, without damaging the land.

I reached the far fence and turned left. There are several acres of pedestrian area inside the fence, so I explored for quite a while. I found a dry wash supporting a fair amount of vegetation. In the gully, I found the sand much firmer. My feet barely made prints. That is where I spotted a den hole dug into the side of the gully. I appeared to be big enough for a coyote. Looking a little closer revealed scattered bones in the sand, probably jack rabbit victims of the neighborhood predator.

When I got back to the car, I debated setting up my backpacking tent in what must be a campsite because there was space for a tent. Then a juvenile ATV roared by, and I considered the probability of a sleepless night in the tent. I had seen enough of Little Sahara Recreation area. Besides, I did not have an ATV. So I drove back toward Provo looking for any other adventure that might show up.

One did. More on that when I can remember the details. I just remember hiking alone toward some point of interest called Devils Postpile or something like that in the National Forest. I began to run out of daylight; the sun was getting closer to the horizon. I measured three fingers between the sun and the horizon, thinking that meant I had fifteen minutes before sunset. Should I turn around?

Then two fingers; one finger; sunset; thank goodness for twighlight.

What was that shadowy creature that just ran across the trail?

Of course you want to know, did I take out my flashlight. Um... no flashlight. It was in my pack that was still in the car. So i turned around, using whatever light was coming from the late evening sky.

I drove back to Provo that night, thinking I should plan better for my weekends. The next day, I visited Timpanogas Cave National Monument. Awsome hike to the cave. Fantastic ranger tour of the beautiful cave, which he explained is actually three caves tunneled together.

--Bob Kuhns