The road into The Grand Staircase is well-hidden. Although shown in the Delorme, it wasn't on the GPS and the location on the map wasn't clear. I stopped at the gas station to ask.
Peggy, managing the place, and Mark, a horse wrangler, were on the veranda discussing the weather. I'd barely settled muhse'f when a car pulled up...stopping mere inches from my knee and equidistant from Schvoogie's fender. (Double El thinks he, Schvoogie, looks like a house slipper, thus his name.) While remonstrating the driver I noticed the word Sheriff on the side of the car. Cop humor "Where yuh from and where yuh goin'?" has never hit my funny-bone. I offered to arm wrestle. He gave good directions and left.
Crossing Waweap Creek.
Dispersed camping is allowed everywhere...you can get to. But with NO cross-country travel and zero side-roads, at least in the five miles I traveled, it meant this song was echoing. I chose a wide spot. (Oh, BTW, overnight camping permits are required. To give him credit, when I copt some 'tude with the fellow staffing the Visitor Center about the reg, he said to relax, there's only one enforcement officer and he lives in Cedar City.
A Wider Place
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| German Flag Suspenders and After-dinner Coffee |
The Schvoog isn't cuttin' it tho'. He's several inches too short for comfortable reclinement. Fortunately, it's warm enough to sleep out. (That thar's muh bedroll behind me.) But with just ten gallons on board his belly rubs at the least protrusion; the 20 for this trip had him really hunkered. Not good.
In the morning I called the guy (in Weiser) and said I'd be right up.
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