Bryce Canyon is possibly the strangest place I have ever been. Its beauty equals, even exceeds, that of Arches, yet it is one hundred times more strange. It has an almost martian quality about it, many times I thought that if the trees were removed it would look like a 1950s artist`s conception of another planet. I often felt like I was in another world, a fairy story, a Christmas grotto, or stereotypical hell.
The concept is similar to the Needles area of Canyonlands (speaking of which, the pictures from the 8th are not showing up due to a problem with the website, which I have reported to them; thanks for your patience), in that the attraction of this park is a series of spires and columns created by weathering fins. The big difference is that these spires are more numerous, smaller, sharper, and have a very odd texture. They look like organ pipes, stalagmites, chimneys, poodles....
The spires are known as hoodoos, and all day I had that song from Labyrinth in my head (you remind of the babe / what babe? / the babe with the power / what power? / the power of voodoo / who do? / you do / do what? remind me of the babe).
The most stunning part was Wall Street, a narrow crag in the rock in which a tree grows. I waited a good 10 mins for the perfect (i.e. touristless) photo, and was well rewarded with some rich shots.
It was a beautiful day, cold, crisp and clear - my favourite type of weather. The park has 200 sub-freezing days per year, and there was still snow on the ground up to 5` thick. It is these days that have shaped the park, chipping away at the hoodoos constantly. My camping last night was the coldest yet, below freezing. I altered the Walker-Ellis tent to turn it from a summer to a winter model by adding a bedsheet over the flysheet, but was still blue this morning.
I hiked another huge trail today, and it was exhausting. Nearly 7 miles, at 8000` elevation, with a full mile change in height (aggregate), with just 70% of sea level`s oxygen available to me: it was very difficult indeed. After that, I opted to do more of the American style of sight-seeing: driving a half mile between the many look-outs and pausing for a snap. At least I actually stepped out of the car, rather than photographing from out the window.
Dinner last night here at the campsite was great: for $12 I had two chicken breasts and unlimited everything else, in a cafeteria-style dining hall. Awesome.
There are many foreign tourists here, particularly Germans and French-speakers (I think from Quebec). I love to listen and work out where they`re from, even though I don`t speak most of their languages. My ears had been on the listen-out for a Hungarian speaker and now, a week into this tourist area, I finally found one. Chatting to them for a few minutes in Hungarian made my day and gave them the surprise of their day.
Some Dutchmen were out in force, riding 80-100 year old (my guestimate) motorbikes, mostly `Indian` marques. They all had clogs on their knapsacks and bore `Amsterdam to Las Vegas` plates. When they all started their engines (a very long process), and shifted into first gear using a hand-operated lever, their pulling away was deafening.