Last week we, my husband, our friend Nick, and I, went for a spontaneous 4 night backpacking trip up Stevens Canyon. The weather looked reasonable, with only one threatening stormy day. Our only daily obligation was to find the perfect campsite: flat, near water, some shade, off trail with a view. Otherwise, we spent our energies plowing through Escalante River knee-high water to skipping over Stevens Canyon slow-moving stream. Streaked half-domed walls surrounded us as we meandered up Stevens wash. Of course, all our campsites were perfect except when the winds howled and shook the Cottonwood trees to the ground. Our tent looked like it had been abandoned for decades because three inches of sand had accumulated inside it. We picked up the tent, sand and all, and moved to a near-by sheltering wall. We settled back, the stage set, to watch the golden light show and the moon rise between the canyon walls. Everything was complete.
