Wave!

Last fall, Sedona Monthly hiked the rings of Saturn. It took us years to get there, and the permit process was painful, but the payoff was absolutely worth it. Our group included three of the 20 people who wandered through a maze of psychedelic colors in a gritty wind, snapping photos and observing the hushed silence. We heard German and French being spoken. We met a couple from Indiana. We didn’t cross paths with anyone else from Arizona. Shooting stars were involved. Everyone was awestruck.

Okay, so we didn’t really hike the rings of Saturn, but after spending a full day at The Wave in Coyote Buttes North, part of the 280,000-acre Vermillion Cliffs National Monument on the border of Arizona and Utah, that struck all of us as the most apt description. Everyone has seen photos of The Wave, but few people have any idea where it’s located. (It turns out that’s exactly what the Bureau of Land Management wants.) We first heard about the Navajo sandstone formation and the infamous permit process when we explored the slot canyons in northern Arizona in 2007. Photos that seemed to depict a giant skate park crafted out of taffy or raspberry cake frosting captivated us. It took us more than two years to actually get to The Wave – we had one near miss back in spring 2008 when we realized we had obtained a permit for Coyote Buttes South, which does not include The Wave. Disappointment ensued, yet we refused to give up, and our persistence paid off.

The trailhead for The Wave is a solid four-hour drive from Sedona through Page, past Lake Powell, into Utah and then eight miles on a dirt road. The road is compact and suitable for most cars, but if it has rained recently, watch out – the road will be impassable without a four-wheel drive. Lucky for us, it had been dry for weeks. We opted to drive out a day early and camp at Stateline Campground, which is located one mile south of the Wire Pass trailhead and the beginning of our hike. There is absolutely no camping at The Wave. There are only four campsites at Stateline, but it seemed like most people in the area were camping in the large dirt parking lot at the Wire Pass trailhead (multiple hikes begin at this trailhead, including the popular, multi-day Paria Canyon – another trip on our live’s to-do list), so we were able to secure a site even after arriving at 5 p.m. There is no fee for the campground, and it had toilets, picnic tables and fire pits but no water. Just before turning in for the night (and after consuming way too much junk food), the biggest, brightest shooting star any of us had seen arced across the night sky and broke up into a million sparkling pieces as it entered earth’s atmosphere. We decided it was a good omen.

We were up bright and early on the permitted Sunday of our hike, dodging jackrabbits and armed with cameras, snacks and a map that made us realize this wasn’t going to be like hiking to Havasupai or into the Grand Canyon. Where we were going, there was no trail. Literally.

The Wave is a very fragile environment, which is why you need a permit to visit, why only 20 people per day are issued permits and why you don’t receive directions to the formation until after you’ve been issued a permit. The map itself is a series of landmarks to watch out for as you make your way 2.5 to three miles to your destination. It’s easy to get lost even with a map, especially considering anyone you might encounter in the area has the same instructions you have. Our best recommendation: If you have a handheld Global Positioning System (GPS), bring it with you and input the longitude and latitude coordinates that accompany your map. It will help keep you on the right track. (Naturally, there is no cell-phone service in this area.) No matter what time of year, don’t leave home without a headlamp or flashlight. Originally, we planned to stay at The Wave until sunset and hike back in the evening. With the lack of a hiking trail, we were all glad when we made it back to the car while it was still light outside.

Though we consider ourselves experienced hikers, the trek to The Wave challenged not only our navigation skills but also our endurance. You’ll make several climbs and plod through more sand than we’ve seen since we lived near the Pacific Ocean’s waves. In the last quarter-mile before you reach The Wave, the route takes you up and over a large sand dune. Rest assured you’ll be out of breath by the time you reach the top. Fortunately, the landscape lends itself to plenty of photo opportunities and chances to catch your breath. A local photographer told us that the colors in and around The Wave were like nothing he’d ever seen. But we’re a cynical bunch, and we were confident The Wave and its surrounding formations would resemble the red rocks of Sedona and the Grand Canyon. Let’s be clear: We were wrong. The rising sun revealed shades of yellow, gold, peach, orange, red, pink and even green and blue; and that was before we’d even reached the main event. Some formations made us think of uneven stacks of pancakes (for whatever reason, the food analogies were alive and well on this adventure) while others resembled rough-hewn pyramids built by ancient cultures. Even the sand seemed unique in this area, and we kept wandering through spots where the soil had formed into millions of tiny sandstone pearls. The landscape was nearly void of plant life save for some shrubs and gnarled trees, bent into odd shapes by the wind that plagued us our entire visit…the same wind responsible for creating The Wave.

After about two-and-a-half hours, we reached The Wave, its sandstone strata swooshing, dipping, corkscrewing, winding and slashing through what seemed like the world’s largest mixing bowl. We felt like kids left alone and let loose in the middle of the world’s best playground. Mock surfing ensued. We climbed to the lip of the bowl and watched as other hikers, their bright permits attached to their backpacks and fluttering in the wind, entered the area with mouths agape. We discovered grottos with shallow sandy bottoms and pieces of stray driftwood. We couldn’t stop running our hands over the smooth yet raised ridges that make up the formation. No matter how many times we’d been mesmerized by photos of The Wave, we’d never seen an image that had captured its unique texture. It was apparent that the ridges were fragile, and instantly it became obvious why the BLM so closely guards this national treasure. If as many people visited The Wave as visit nearby Antelope Canyon, trampling boots would ruin it. The fragility of the landscape made us want to remove our shoes and tiptoe around in our socks, but we refrained.

There are countless places to lounge around and observe the changing colors of the rocks as the sun journeys across the brilliant blue sky, and we had the good luck of being there at the time of year when the moon sets behind the rocky ridge in front of the Wave. But our readers know us by now – we can’t sit still for long. We were compelled to explore the area further. We spied an arch high above The Wave, but chose not to tackle what looked to be a completely vertical climb to reach it. We hiked southwest instead, and after a few hundred yards we came upon Hamburger Rock, a bright orange boulder about four feet tall that is a dead ringer for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and all the fixings. From this vantage point, we had tremendous views of the surrounding valley, colorful domes and a distant plateau that we believed to be the location of Bryce Canyon National Park.

Within another couple hundred feet we found the Second Wave, much smaller and much greener than its sister formation with deep ridges. It was more like a series of cliffs rather than a bowl. Below the Second Wave, we discovered an alcove that was perfect for enjoying lunch and watching non-threatening clouds build to the north. The landscape in front of us made us think of kaleidoscopes, LSD artwork circa 1969, and the swirls and textures of a van Gogh painting. More than any landscape we’ve had the pleasure of exploring, The Wave stirred our creative juices and made us hungry for more photos, more adjectives.

Ravens soared overhead, and we kept our eyes peeled for California condors. The national monument has served as the Arizona release site for the federally protected bird since the condors were first released into the wild in 1996, but we didn’t see one during our visit. You can also find sets of small dinosaur tracks located on the other side of the wash across from The Wave, but we’ve seen quite a few dinosaur tracks since we’ve been living in the Southwest, and no one was in a hurry to leave The Wave. Chances are, it would be the only time we’d ever see this particular masterpiece from Mother Nature, and we were all too aware of it. You can’t drive to The Wave the way you can drive to one of the Grand Canyon’s famous viewpoints, and you can’t hop on a donkey to discover its depth. You have to work for The Wave.

We didn’t see or hear another person the entire time we were in the alcove. We headed back to The Wave mid-afternoon and spent the next few hours hanging out in the main bowl and photographing to our heart’s content. The majority of the visitors had left by this time, so the area seemed even more isolated. Since we were hiking in early October, the shadows showed up earlier than expected, rendering photography impossible in the main bowl by 3 p.m. We headed back the way we came in revered quiet, not unlike a car ride home from Disneyland when you realize all the planning and excitement has come to an end. We knew that we had just experienced a unique pocket of the world that most people would never see, and we left with a feeling of responsibility that we needed to use our photos and words to make everyone feel like they, too, had surfed the rings of Saturn, or at least Arizona’s Wave. •

© 2006-2007 Bar225 Media Ltd. All rights reserved.

Sitemap

Internet Marketing by North Star Direct Marketing