We needed to deliver 20 pieces of fine art to the Anasazi Museum in Boulder on Sunday, so we left home Saturday afternoon and drove over to Tropic. We stopped there and talked with Ms. Irene at the gallery for a while, before looking for a place to camp. We had always gazed up Pardner Canyon when passing it on Highway 12, but never taken the time to stop. So, after Henrieville and before the Blues, we started looking for an access point. We soon found a little two track and headed north. The road was badly eroded and full of washouts. We made it probably half a mile before an impassable washout stopped us in some waist-high sage-brush. It wasn't the perfect camp, but it wasn't bad either.I'd forgotten the Pentax, so I took the little Canon and walked up the road for a while before dinner. The temperature was pleasant, the fall colors were beautiful, and the canyon was silent. It was a good hour for hiking. I came upon an old homestead along the banks of Dry Creek and spent a few minutes looking around the cabins and corrals. There was a giant rat midden inside the cabin and sagebrush had taken over the door-yard. It seemed kind of homey nonetheless. After dinner, we sat around a fire of pinyon sticks while I read aloud from J.W. Powell's seminal Canyons of the Colorado.
In the morning, we all scrambled over to Dry Creek and the girls played in the wash while I climbed half-way up one of the buttes. We jumped in the truck by about 10a and weaved through the yuppies and the tourists on our way to Boulder. It was good to see Brenda and Torianne at the Anasazi, and the art show looked great, as always. On the way back we hassled Auggie at the Escalante Visitor Center and dropped the camper in Tropic where we'll pick it up later in the week. We were back on the west-side (Parowan) by 5p after another 300 miles of southern Utah driving.
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