Fall is perhaps my sacred time. If there is such a thing for me.
And in the high country, this time is brief.
The nights get colder fast, the leaves turn quickly, and soon it feels over.
But it’s a glorious time, and we savor it.
We headed up to a place overlooking Capitol Reef for a three-day, two-night trip, catching that short window when the aspens turn golden, the nights get cold, and winter starts making its presence known even as the desert below remains warm.
We started through the high meadows, passing small lakes tucked away and hidden in the trees.
We followed the Great Western Trail for a bit and crossed streams flanked by autumn woods.
We reached a sheltered place for the evening and enjoyed the brisk night air before settling into our down cocoons.
The following day, we reached the open country, perfect for easy walking, with expansive views across the plateau.
And we weren’t the only ones enjoying the meadows.
We spotted a bull elk with some cows and watched them from a distance. This time of year, the elk make their presence known even when you can’t see them. Their bugles formed the soundtrack of the fall season as we walked across the plateau.
We continued across the plateau and eventually came across an old cabin tucked into the trees.
Old USGS maps show a sawmill in this general area, and the cabin seems connected to that history. Whatever its exact use, it is one of those structures we enjoy finding in the backcountry: weathered, simple, and still standing long after the work that brought people here ended.
Inside, a few remnants remain.
There’s no interpretive sign or kiosk. But some sleuthing by Joan led us to a local group that lovingly maintains this place where their grandfathers once worked.
It’s a testament to a piece of local history that isn’t readily apparent.
From there, we made our way toward the edge of the plateau.
Below us, the aspens spread across the slopes in patches of yellow and orange. Beyond them, the Waterpocket Fold cut across the desert, with the Henry Mountains rising in the distance.
It is one of those uniquely southern Utah views where several landscapes appear at once: alpine forest, aspen-covered slopes, red-rock desert, and distant mountains.
Joan seemed pleased with the view.
We made camp nearby and watched the light change over the country below.
As evening settled in, the temperature dropped quickly. We pulled out our puffy jackets and watched the last sunlight catch the distant cliffs.
Not a bad place to spend an evening.
The next morning, we headed down through the aspens.
The colors became more intense as we lost elevation. Some stands had already dropped their leaves, others remained green, and still others were at peak color.
We meandered through more meadows, eventually left the high country behind, and soon reached our truck.
And because every backcountry trip needs a small bit of post-trail gluttony, we finished with pie at the Gifford Homestead.
Of course.
High-country lakes, bugling elk, an old cabin, golden aspens, two nights overlooking the desert, and pie.
We’ve had worse weekends.