Canyonlands National Park

 Oct 12th, 2025, 

I’ve come to realize that life is a dream in two ways.
In one sense, life was a dream for unborn souls and for those who left this world too early, those who never had the chance to see much of it. And life is also a dream for us who are living now. Because every day, every year, and every moment passes like one. Think of yesterday, last year, or five years ago; it all feels like a dream now. Like the blink of an eye.

October 12th marked my last national park visit and the final day of this trip. I woke up around 7:30 a.m., only about 30 minutes from the entrance of Canyonlands National Park. After unpacking my tent, I headed straight to the nearest gas station for fuel and coffee. The station was still closed, and I waited a few minutes until an elderly Utahn woman opened the door from the inside. While the coffee brewed, I spent a few moments chatting with other travelers, those small, simple conversations that somehow always feel right on the road.

Last day of the trip, here we go.

My first stop was Monitor and Merrimac Viewpoint at 8:12 a.m. (truly looked like a hotel building). It was still early, quiet, and peaceful. I spent about 30 minutes there, sipping coffee, enjoying the morning breeze, and taking in the vast view stretching endlessly before me.

Next, I walked the short half mile to Shafer Canyon Overlook. The scenery there was dramatic and breathtaking, calm and powerful. Standing at the edge, looking down into the canyon and the winding road cutting through it as far as the eye could see.

By 9:30 a.m., the park started to get busy. When I reached Mesa Arch for the one-mile hike, people were already lined up, waiting for their turn to capture the iconic photo beneath the arch.

There was so much to explore that I ended up taking Upheaval Dome Road toward the Syncline Loop Trailhead. Which also included several other points of interest:

• Whale Rock
• Upheaval Dome Overlook (first and second)
• Syncline Campground

At the trailhead, I packed plenty of water and snacks and hit the trail. Honestly, I didn’t fully know what I was getting into. I took a different route from most people, and right at the start, there was a warning sign:

“Warning: You are on the 8.3-mile Syncline Loop Trail. This trail is very strenuous and difficult to follow.”

That warning was no exaggeration.

After the first half mile, the trail disappeared entirely, only cairns remained, and even those weren’t very helpful. Rain had washed much of the route away. I constantly checked my watch and phone to stay on track. After mile two, the hike became extremely remote and physically demanding. It required careful route-finding, scrambling over large rocks, and full focus. The trail was completely unmarked, and it was very easy to get off route.

By mile three, I was bouldering over massive rock formations, intense, exhausting, but deeply rewarding. The views into the canyon were stunning. I spotted wildlife, including deer, and the geology felt almost otherworldly. Layered colors, strange formations, fossils, and dramatic terrain surrounded me at every step. I got lost a few times, but occasional arrows painted on the rock helped guide me back.

The hardest part was still ahead: climbing out from the depths of the canyon back to the rim, nearly 600 feet of elevation gain. It was brutally challenging. Later, I realized I had hiked the loop counterclockwise; it would have been much easier going clockwise.

I returned to my car at 2:17 p.m., completing 9.07 miles in just under four hours. A group of bikers was in the parking lot, and I mentioned to one of them that this hike was completely unplanned. She smiled and said, “Good job.” That felt good.

After a well-needed break, I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I still had time, so I stopped at Wilhite Trail and walked about half a mile to the overlook. The trail led toward the deep canyon, and the Green River was below-quiet, beautiful, and peaceful.

Next was the Green River Overlook Trail, another short walk. There, I spent time reading the exhibit titled “What Shall We Find?”, which shared the story of Major John Wesley Powell’s 1869 expedition through the Green and Colorado Rivers. His words describing a “strange, weird, grand region” felt just as true today. Standing there, it was easy to imagine how little this landscape has changed since then.

I continued on to White Rim Overlook Trail, nearly a two-mile hike. I spent a long time just sitting and gazing at the view. As I looked down into the canyon, an idea formed, driving down there someday, staying for a month, living simply in the wild, fishing in the Green River, and disconnecting completely from city life. That idea felt necessary. It felt right.

My final stop of the day, around 4:30 p.m., was Grand Viewpoint Overlook. Watching ATVs move like tiny dots far below, I knew this place had earned a spot near the top of my list to return to, right alongside Death Valley National Park.

I exited the park around 5 p.m. and began the drive toward Denver on I-70. With music playing and the sunset unfolding, I reflected on life, where I am, where I’ve been, and where I want to go next. The drive lasted about five and a half hours, and I arrived in Denver around 11 p.m.

I checked into a Holiday Inn downtown. Most places were closed, and I was starving, but I found The Pizza Bar, open until 3 a.m., perfect timing. The bartender mentioned how quiet Denver was for a Sunday night, with no major events taking place.

I went to bed close to midnight, hoping for a good night’s sleep.

The next day, Monday, October 13^th, a holiday, I woke up around 9 a.m., grabbed coffee, and hit the road toward Lincoln, Nebraska. A familiar drive on I-80. I was home by late afternoon.

Yet again, I had that familiar feeling: glad to be back, yet sad to leave.

Capitol Reef National Park

 Oct 11th, 2025

It was a quiet night in Salina, Utah. I woke up around 7 a.m., and although I had a fair night's sleep, I still felt exhausted, and that is not surprising, while my Strava app reminded me I had already hiked nearly 115 miles on this trip. It was all part of the journey.

I packed my things into the car, stopped by the hotel lobby for a coffee and a few muffins from the breakfast area, checked out, and hit the road again. The drive to Capitol Reef National Park took about an hour and a half.

I arrived at the park entrance at 9:12 a.m. The morning drive through the mountains was beautiful, with low clouds brushing against the landscape. Driving through the Utah countryside at that hour felt peaceful, the sun gently touching everything in sight. Everything still looked wet from the rain the night before. Most of this area is red rock, and with the moisture, the colors felt incredibly intense, almost unreal. It truly felt like another planet, the Red Planet.

My first stop was Chimney Rock Trailhead, a roughly five-mile loop that continues to Mummy Cliff. I only hiked about a mile and a half to the main viewpoint, which was absolutely worth it. The rail was extremely muddy, but thankfully, I had proper hiking shoes. I also noticed something new here: a sensor tracker at the trailhead that counts how many people use it.

Around 10 a.m., I moved on to a short three-mile hike near the Sunset and Goosenecks Overlook area. The hike itself was very short, but I kept going off the trail as the sun was strong and directly in my face; it felt amazing absorbing the heat at this time of the day. The hike continued across Sulphur Creek, enjoying complete solitude.

One of the best moments of this journey so far has been taking short 20-minute naps or meditation breaks in nature. This is something I grew up with, being outside all the time, sleeping on rooftops or napping under olive trees during hot summer days. These recovery naps connect me deeply to those memories. Today’s nap was priceless.

Next, I stopped at the Visitor Center to refill my water. By then, the park was getting busy, and the visitor center was packed. From there, I drove the scenic road toward Cassidy Arch. Since Grand Wash Road was closed, I had to park along the main road. I hiked for about two miles and could see the arch from a distance. The full hike would have been close to eight miles, and given the circumstances, I decided to skip it, hoping there might be another and closer access trail.

On the way back, I stopped at the Oyler Mine sign, an old, abandoned uranium mine dating back to the early 1900s. It produced very little uranium, and while it’s an important historical site, the warning signs are clear: abandoned mines are dangerous and should never be entered. Hiking through the depths of the canyon here felt surreal. I felt incredibly small among the rugged terrain and towering canyon walls.

The drive back to the main road was unforgettable. There’s a sense of openness that settles deep in your chest when you’re surrounded by red canyon walls standing quietly on both sides, ancient, steady, and reassuring. The sky felt impossibly big, scattered with soft clouds, wrapped in the vast silence of the landscape.

I took a break at Hickman Natural Bridge and studied my map. There is so much hiking to do in this park, it feels endless. Cassidy Arch was no longer realistic at this point, especially since I had already gone farther than planned. Instead, I decided to hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, which also offers views of Capitol Dome, Navajo Dome, and Pectols Pyramid. I started the 2.5-mile hike around 1:30 p.m.

The trail was busy, filled with families and kids, which is always nice to see. I reached Hickman Bridge at 2:13 p.m., and honestly, I still don’t know why they call it a “bridge”; it really should be called an arch 😊. Every moment of this hike was rewarding. The views unfolded beautifully: wide-open skies, colorful layers of sandstone, and the winding Fremont River creating a stunning backdrop. Standing beneath the massive sandstone formation, framed by canyon walls and sky, felt majestic and awe-inspiring.

By nearly 3 p.m., I was back at my car and began driving toward Canyonlands National Park, planning to stop for a meal and a few highlights along the way, including Goblin Valley State Park. The drive toward Hanksville was mind-blowing. I was completely shocked by the beauty of this region, the dark hills, endless rock formations, and extreme remoteness. In all honesty, parts of this landscape felt even more striking than many national parks I’ve visited. Utah is unreal, and it gives me yet another reason to come back and explore more of it 😊.

I stopped for lunch at Duke’s Slickrock Grill, a hidden restaurant in the middle of nowhere. The atmosphere was great, with photos of famous Western movie stars covering the walls. I really enjoyed my meal and the uniqueness of the place.

Around 4 p.m., I continued toward Goblin Valley, stopping briefly at Kathline Rock to take in the unbelievable scenery. I arrived at Goblin Valley State Park around 4:30 p.m. The drive into the park was stunning, with the sun beginning to set and campers scattered across the valley. The colors were incredibly intense in the evening light, and once again, the landscape felt unreal.

I spent about an hour exploring Goblin Valley, and it was truly unforgettable, an otherworldly place filled with bizarre, mushroom-shaped hoodoos scattered across the valley. It felt like a giant natural playground, where people can freely wander among the formations. I noticed many families with kids playing hide-and-seek, climbing, and exploring. There are no rigid trails here, just pure freedom to move through the rocks.

By 6:30 p.m., I arrived at Courthouse Rock Campground. I was lucky to find a spot, as the campground was fully booked. People nearby were talking about an incoming storm and strong winds. I enjoyed the sunset while making some noodles and tea, soaking in the quiet of the evening. I went to bed around 9 p.m., hoping for a good night’s sleep and feeling confident that I had secured my tent, though that confidence wouldn’t last.

In the middle of the night, the wind became extremely strong, and heavy rain followed. I tried to ignore it, but the tent poles collapsed, and the wind threatened to lift the tent entirely. I had no choice but to get out, secure the tent again, and move the car to block the wind for extra protection, which helped a lot. I noticed that my two neighboring campers went to sleep in their car instead.

Eventually, I returned to my tent, put in my earplugs, and tried to rest. Surprisingly, I slept really well after that, as the storm slowly calmed down.

Great Basin National Park

 Oct 10th, 2025; Great Basin National Park

Even though I didn’t get enough hours of sleep, I woke up feeling surprisingly well-rested and recovered. The night was incredibly quiet, so quiet that all I could hear was the wind and, at times, light rain brushing against the landscape. I spent part of the night capturing beautiful time-lapse shots of the sky: stars drifting, clouds moving slowly, and the moon glowing through it all.

I woke up around 8 a.m. and drove about 12 minutes to Ely to fuel up, grabbed a coffee, a breakfast sausage, and a few snacks before heading toward Great Basin National Park.

Located in eastern Nevada, Great Basin National Park protects a remarkable piece of the vast Great Basin region. It features diverse ecosystems ranging from desert valleys to alpine peaks, ancient Bristlecone Pines, some of the oldest trees on Earth, Lehman Caves, Wheeler Peak (Nevada’s second-highest summit), and some of the darkest night skies in the country, making it ideal for stargazing. I reached the park entrance around 9:30 a.m., greeted by beautiful weather, a mix of clouds, blue skies, and dramatic mountain views. The clouds hung low, clearly preparing for a storm, possibly rain or snow. Today’s goal was clear: hike Wheeler Peak.

After a magical 30-minute scenic drive, uphill, 13 miles of winding road, I arrived at Wheeler Peak Campground around 10 a.m. The drive itself felt special, passing through distinct life zones, from the base near Lehman Caves to rugged, windswept terrain higher up, with occasional wildflowers clinging to the landscape above the tree line.

While using the restroom at the campground, I noticed park staff posting signs everywhere announcing that the road, including the campground, would be closed by 6 p.m. due to an incoming snowstorm. That meant I needed to be off the mountain and out of the area well before 6 pm or risk getting stuck. Remembering my last experience at Lassen Volcanic National Park, I made sure to prepare carefully and carry everything I might need.

Wheeler Peak rises to 13,063 feet and is known for its alpine environment, ancient bristlecone pines, and Nevada’s only glacier, now considered a rock glacier. The hike is a strenuous 8.6-mile round trip.

I hit the trail by 10:15 a.m., planning to be back down by 2 p.m. After about two miles, the wind began picking up aggressively. Visibility dropped, and soon all I could see were rocks, clouds, and then snow started to fall. During the last mile, parts of the trail nearly disappeared under heavy snow. I passed only two hikers about half a mile below the summit; they seemed unsure whether to continue or turn back. We chatted briefly. I told them I planned to push forward.

I reached the summit of Wheeler Peak at 12:54 p.m. One hiker had arrived just before a very experienced hiker from Utah. We talked for a few minutes, shook hands, and he quickly began his descent. I took a few photos, signed the summit register, which was kept inside a metal box, and didn’t linger long due to the worsening weather.

On the way down, conditions became more intense. The wind was fierce, and snow, rain, and mist surrounded everything. Along the descent, I met a 77-year-old hiker who had climbed mountains in Nepal and all over the U.S. We shared a great conversation before parting ways. I was deeply impressed by his strength, experience, and determination.

Once I dropped below the storm zone, the final two miles of the hike transformed completely. The landscape opened into a beautiful forest with clear skies. Endless aspen trunks with pale bark and golden leaves stretched in every direction. Some aspens had already shed their leaves, while others still shimmered in yellow, their leaves dancing and making that distinct quaking sound. Golden meadows with running water added to the peaceful autumn scene, it was absolutely stunning.

I made it back to the parking lot by 2:50 p.m., almost right on time. I changed clothes, made some tea, and began driving back down. I stopped at several viewpoints, including Mather Overlook, where I spent about 30 minutes enjoying my tea and fig bars while taking in the views. I also stopped by the visitor center and Lehman Caves, though both were closed due to the shutdown.

I exited the park around 4 p.m. and began the four-hour drive toward Capitol Reef National Park. Passing through the town of Baker and continuing Highway 50 into Utah, the landscape between Baker and Hinckley was breathtaking, vast open terrain painted with dramatic clouds, blue skies, mountains, and shifting shadows, like a living painting.

After passing through McCornick and Holden, I took Utah Highway 15 toward Scipio, then turned left toward Salina, where I planned to stay for the night. Utah farmland stretched endlessly, and the sunset was pure magic; the sun looked like a bowl of fire exploding across the sky, with clouds glowing in every imaginable color. Utah never disappoints; it’s always beautiful and magical.

I arrived in Salina around 7:30 p.m., checked into a Super 8, took a long shower, and headed out to Denny’s for dinner and a much-needed slice of cheesecake. Before bed, I briefly spoke with the hotel host about my plan to visit Capitol Reef the next day. She mentioned news of a possible snowstorm, which I wasn’t hoping for.

I headed to bed by 10 p.m., grateful for another full, challenging, and rewarding day, hoping for a safe and smooth journey ahead.