19 October 2017, Thursday
Zion National Park
We have finally both caught up on sleep. Last night’s temperature was a warm 50 degrees F. After cooking breakfast in camp, O works on adjusting the computer setting measuring Vincent’s tire pressure, while I get in some bird watching. A flock of cedar waxwings visits, along with mountain chickadees, red shafted flickers, ever present robins and chipping sparrows. I also confirm that a hawk sighted yesterday (or was it the day before?) was a rough-legged hawk.
We have decided today will be a photography day. First we drive up to Lava Point, a much less busy part of Zion, high on the plateau above the canyon. From here one gets a birds’ eye view of the top of the canyon and the surrounding countryside. To the east we can see the pink cliffs, and 70 miles to the south we can barely make out the Kaibab Plateau, which composes the north rim of Grand Canyon. All in all it is a splendid view. Our only disappointment is that we do not see any of the reintroduced California condors.
From Lava Point we drive back through Zion Canyon and up Route 9. This was our entry route yesterday. By now it is late in the afternoon. We concentrate on photographing the brightly lit west-facing slopes. Tomorrow morning, when we begin our eastward journey home, we hope to get some good photos of the east-facing cliffs.
As we turn around and head westward on Route 9 back to our campsite, we are stopped at the 1.1 mile long tunnel excavated in the 1930’s when cars and trucks were smaller. If a larger RV has to negotiate the tunnel nowadays, rangers stop traffic and only let one direction through at a time so that the larger vehicles can drive down the middle of the tunnel where the height is 13 feet 1 inch. Along the sides of the tunnel the height is only 11 feet 4 inches. We are the first vehicle in line waiting to drive westward. As we wait, we notice a man squatting in the pedestrian crosswalk immediately in front of Vincent. The ranger is standing there watching. O and I finally realize that a large “furry” tarantula is slowly making its way across the crosswalk. I hop out of Vincent with my camera. O asks the ranger if we can help the little guy across. She agrees, but says she always gets a bit nervous about helping wildlife because it doesn’t always go well. I relate the story the ranger at Carlsbad Caverns told us when she asked us to drive carefully at night, watching out for all wildlife, even tarantulas. After all, it take males eight years to reach maturity and they only mate once (I think.) “Give the guys a break!” she pleaded. Meanwhile, O has retrieved a shovel from the back of Vincent. The tarantula climbs up, seemingly happy for the lift. O carries him over to some brush on the other side of the road and, with some effort, shakes the fuzzy fellow off the shovel. We climb back into Vincent and await our turn to drive through the tunnel. As the ranger waves us through, she smiles at us and mouths, “Thanks!”
Back at camp we prepare dinner and watch the west facing cliffs turn deep red as the sun sets.