Is the US Forest Service's term for Red Canyon. This amber colored area sits down yonder from that much ballyhooed National Park.
I wandered around for 11 miles in Red Canyon. I think its wishful thinking to say it's a baby Bryce. However, you won't hear a molecule of complaint from me. I liked it for what it didn't have. And what's that, Jeff?
Bus loads of selfie stick wielding mobs on a "National Lampoon Vacation" journey.
"There's Bryce Canyon!"
Snap! Goes the I-Phone on a Stick.
"Everyone back on the bus! We have another three parks to see today before we eat our next buffet!"
It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye to a selfie-stick.
I think Red Canyon is sort of a local's secret. The trailheads aren't signed from scenic Highway 12. The parking lots are camouflaged behind ponderosa, pinyon and juniper pine trees. You need a Forest Service trail map to figure this all out. Most of the time the Visitor Center seems to be shuttered. This year was the first time I've passed this way to find Old Glory fluttering in the breeze. I scored a map and now it has opened up another play venue for this WWJ.
Speaking of breezes, I've been seriously windburned in the last few days. There's been Amphetamine-type gusts that even judder Barley the Van to and fro. What really stinks on ice, it's a cold wind.
This life I lead is very weather dependent. Barley the Van sports about 78 square feet of living area. The Queen sized bed (more wishful thinking) takes up most of this space. In other words. Barley can get very claustrophobic during a bout of marginal weather.
The Forecast? Marginal weather including the possibility of White Death. That won't do.
Out comes the maps and the Weather.com app.
It might be time to lower my altitude, but not my attitude.
Come on Summer!
Try to figure out which photos came from where?
PS. My IPA supply is down to one storage area. I don't think I'll need an emergency air-lift to get me back to the more IPA friendly Colorado. Touch wood.