Bryce Canyon National Park

Our campground near Bryce Canyon National Park was at 7777 feet in elevation, half again the altitude in mile-high Denver.  In one day we had moved from a climate requiring the air conditioner all day long to one in which we ran the electric fireplace-heater all through the night.  But aside from low grade headaches, dry mouths, stuffy sinuses, and shortness of breath on exertion, we felt fine.

Bryce Canyon and Zion both have impressive sandstone formations.  But at Zion we were on the canyon floor looking up, and at Bryce we walked the rim, looking down on fantastical stone sculptural elements.  It's another of those situations where it's hard to imagine how random natural forces had resulted in such variety and beauty.  The first day there we hiked with our dogs along the edge, and made plans to descend tomorrow, just the two of us, into the depths.

The next morning Nancy wasn't feeling too well.  But she insisted that we hike down into the bowels of Bryce as planned, like the superhero she is.  And it wasn't so bad descending.  The columns and arches and weird formations were beautiful, especially standing beside them and looking up.  By the time we retraced our steps, the sun was bearing down, and it was a strenuous climb back to the top.  Overall a very cool experience.

The Visitors Center is isolated and at high altitude, and those are perfect conditions for minimal light pollution after dark.  They conduct Night Sky programs several times a week, and Nancy and I attended one.  It began with an hour's lecture about astronomy, including a description of the major constellations, the types of galaxies, and the distances involved, including a show-and-tell using volunteer children to represent the zodiac constellations.  Nancy was enthralled.

Then as darkness fell, the audience, numbering nearly one hundred, moved outside, to an area behind the Visitors Center.  Aside from a few dim red lights, there was about as much illumination as in a coffin.  The sky was truly spectacular, with more stars than I'd ever seen before.  Several park rangers and volunteer astronomers had set up powerful telescopes in that field to look at Saturn and other heavenly bodies.  So we tried to assemble into groups, one at each telescope, and form lines, but we could barely see each other.

The astronomer for the group Nancy and I joined told us that the mechanism that ordinarily tracks stars automatically on his telescope was broken, so he'd have to readjust it after each viewing, because of the Earth's motion.  He also felt that it was important to look at some of the more obscure objects, not just the important and interesting ones, so we'd be viewing a distant galaxy, if he could find one.  After a few minutes he located a sombrero galaxy, said it looked like a smudge, and hoped we would be able to identify it as we looked, one by one, through the viewfinder.

By this time Nancy and I knew that we had made a mistake and would prefer changing to a group with a working telescope and a sexier celestial object, but in the dark we weren't sure we could locate another group, and if we got separated, we might never find each other again, so we stayed where we were.  Those ahead of us took turns looking into the viewfinder, saying that they thought they saw the galaxy, after which the astronomer slowly readjusted the telescope to bring the galaxy back into view.  Nancy and I took our turns, thought we saw the smudge, and decided enough was enough.  We stumbled blindly back toward what we thought was the parking lot, found our truck, and returned safely to the campground.

We loved both parks.  Bryce Canyon had one fabulous site, a fairyland of sandstone shapes, and Zion was larger and more varied and grand.  Different strokes.