Wednesday, April 16th we toyed with the idea of staying at the Cathedral Valley campground one more day, but listening to the weather radio, it sounded like it was going to be cold and snowy.
Then it was highways to Hanksville for gas and beer, and back down south to the Glen Canyon Rec Area. We had hoped the White Canyon road would take us closer to a finger of the lake and a more established campground that was marked on the gazetteer; but with Lake Powell so low, we were still miles from any water when we picked this campsite. It was much warmer, and we spent the afternoon sun bathing and exploring.
As I took in the red rocks and salt cedars in the wash and thought about the bridge we’d just crossed again near Hite, all I could think of was Edward Abbey.
“What once was a mighty river. Now a ghost. Spirits of sea gulls and pelicans wing above the desiccated delta a thousand miles to seaward. Spirits of beaver nose upstream through the silt-gold surface…Deer walked the canyon shores. Snowy egrets in the tamarisk, plumes waving in the river breeze…”
