And we finally entered the Escalante. I remember the first time I went down Highway 12, an amazing strip of asphalt that straddles airy drop-offs, and cuts through the slickest rocks of the Escalante. It was in my first veehicle: that dreaded Landcruiser the color of moldy lemons. I was bearing down on Colorado, thinking only of climbing every 14er with Randy that summer, when suddenly I found myself in the middle of Escalante summer slickrock. The road looked like a winding strip of Hershey's chocolate bars, placed end to end as far as the eye could see and melting into the sandstone. It became a mandatory route between Lost Brainless and the Center of the Universe, tugged on my mind every time I started planning for spring break fun. I put it on the burner while studying other corners of the desert---Angel's Landing, Grand Gulch, the Maze, Land of Standing Rocks, Mexican Hat, the Needles, and many other places which shall remain unnamed (no sense in broadcasting too many of these desert places into cyberspace)---but, frankly, the combination of living in Michigan and the creation of the new National Monument made me decide it was time for the Escalante. Gotta get there before the busloads of German and Taiwanese tourists find it. If we're lucky Highway 12 will remain the only paved trail in the region, and there's a good chance for that. As you'll soon see this country isn't hospitable to freeways, even hiking trails. The cliff-bands, tanks, rattlesnakes, slot-canyons, sand drifts, and impossible distances will keep most people from most of the good stuff. We have to save something for the scorpions!
