Red Cliffs National Conservation Area Utah
I woke early at my sister’s house. We were taking my brother to the shuttle in St. George for a trip to Las Vegas. There wasn’t much traffic the day after Christmas, and we arrived with plenty of time to spare. We thought about doing a little shopping in St. George, but most stores didn’t open until nine or later. That surprised me—back East, December 26 is a big shopping day, and stores usually open earlier than normal.
We headed back to Hurricane and stopped at Bonrue, a really good pastry shop and café. I’ve learned that in Utah, cafés are often called breweries. I had my usual chocolate croissant and a latté, and my sister ordered a chocolate kouign-amann. Chocolate kouign-amann comes from Brittany, where butter is treated as a primary ingredient, not an accent. It’s made from laminated dough folded with butter and sugar, which caramelize in the oven into a crisp, crackling crust with a soft, layered center. Adding dark chocolate takes an already decadent pastry to another level. I took a small bite and could practically feel the butter and sugar working their way through my system.
We’d already hiked many of the trails in the area and were looking for something different. She suggested hiking to Babylon Arch near Hurricane. It’s on the other side of the Virgin River, with no direct access across the canyon, so we took about a forty-minute drive around to the other side near Leeds.
By the way, if you’re ever in Leeds, Utah, there’s a fabulous Mexican restaurant called Casa Tequilana. This isn’t fast-food Tex-Mex; the menu leans toward traditional dishes made with care rather than speed. Unfortunately for me, it’s closed for the month of December.
Google led us onto a dirt road that twisted through a new development. It was the early phase of a massive over-55 community and reminded me of the sprawling developments between Washington, D.C. and Hagerstown in the 1990s. The road was rough, with plenty of obstacles, and eventually two tracks merged. Ahead of us, cars and trucks were parked along the road. As we moved forward, the sand softened, the road dropped into an eroded channel, and suddenly the front wheels slipped into a ditch and bottomed out.
About a minute later, a Tesla Cybertruck pulled up. The woman rolled down her window and said she could help, but she’d need to go back into town to get a shovel. Just then, an ATV came flying up the road. She said, “Oh, you don’t need me—that’s search and rescue. They just pulled someone out down below.”
The ATV rolled straight through the ditch and stopped above us. The driver got out and said, “We’ll have you out of here in no time. There are seven other rescue vehicles behind me. This should be easy—she has a hitch.” An army of Jeeps and ATVs followed, rumbling through sand and ruts like they weren’t even there. It would have made a perfect Jeep commercial. A large red Jeep backed up, they hooked up the tow line, told my sister to put the car in reverse and give it a little gas, and just like that, we were out. They unhooked and disappeared as quickly as they arrived. I barely had time to grab a photo of the ATV guy. Thankfully, there was no damage to the car.
Babylon Arch Trail
We left the car where it was and started our two-plus-mile hike down the road. The mountains around us were full of color, with desert marigolds and wild sage lining the way. At times, the air was fragrant with the smell of the desert. The hike was mostly quiet, with only the occasional truck or car passing by. Everyone we encountered was friendly, except maybe the sheriff, who drove past followed by the ATV they’d just rescued. He stopped when we asked for directions to Babylon Arch and told us it was essentially the second trailhead off the dirt road.
The road itself was heavily rutted, washed out in places, and covered with deep sand and rocks. ATVs and Jeeps were clearly required to navigate it. Babylon Arch is apparently well known to locals, but it didn’t appear on the trail map at the trailhead. We followed a GPS location I had, but it didn’t pan out. When I zoomed in on Google Maps, I noticed a dotted line leading off the road to a very steep hill dropping into a small canyon. Neither of us felt up for that level of risk, so we turned back and saved Babylon Arch for another visit.
I expected the hike back to feel longer and steeper than it did—either my memory was off or the water I was drinking had special powers. Along the way, a man approached us on a mountain bike, moving slowly and clearly struggling. He said, “I’m not used to this—they do this all the time.” I wasn’t sure who “they” were, since he was alone. He soon got off and started pushing his bike through the sand, clearly in the wrong gear for the conditions. A woman passed us and caught up to him; she said her father was farther down the hill and she was worried he might have a heart attack.
Two young women passed us shortly after, moving faster than the cyclist. Then two dogs came running downhill toward us, followed by a man in a blue truck waving out the window. I’m never quite sure what’s going to happen with off-leash dogs, but these two were friendly and clearly happy. The owner pulled up and said, “They won’t bite—they just like running.”
Soon a Subaru came down the hill, followed by another truck. The woman told the Subaru driver she was going to get the others and suggested he get in the truck instead. The truck picked up the struggling cyclist, who seemed relieved, and they all headed downhill together.
I couldn’t help wondering who would organize a bike ride in terrain like this when the area has so many well-paved, flat bike trails where everyone would be happier.
We made it back to the car after a 4.6-mile hike. The car had no trouble getting out, and we headed back to my sister’s place. Both of us took long, well-earned naps.
