Hoodoos are out. Goblins are in. Where hoodoos have an untouchable magical and mystical aura, goblins are weird and wild and in your face.
As we transition from ‘reservations in-hand’ to ‘no reservations – no problem,’ we followed a hunch that the fully booked Goblin Valley State Park 100 miles northeast of Capitol Reef might have an opening considering the wet weather. It was on the way to Canyonlands in the sense that it was also in Utah, but with only 10 RV sites in a 30 pad campground, it is a difficult reservation to book. This day the goblins felt magnanimous and provided us site 22, the last available RV site, guaranteeing 24 hours of goblin gaping and a hot shower.
Goblins are giant rock and boulders formations that are covered in hard, cement-like red clay. As weather and time erodes the covering, the clay breaks away revealing playful, looks like (fill in the blank) sculptures. These clearly captured Sheri’s mushroom-loving attention.
Raining and 53 degrees didn’t stop us from donning our warmest gear and hiking through the red wall canyons to The Valley of the Goblins. Yes, it’s really called that!
In this park, there are no limits. The ranger called it goblin playground. You can go anywhere you want, climb anything you want. There are a few trails to get you started, but once you’re in, anything goes. Act like the goblin you want to be.
Surveying the Valley of the Goblins from the Observation Deck, in heavy rain, we constructed a no-loop entrance and exit plan. In one way, out another.
While everyone but the few stragglers in the valley huddled together for warmth, our 10 year old selves took off on an exploratory adventure looking for a path to the goblin guardians protecting the realm.
Around every corner was a new surprise, like meadows of colorful wildflowers on the sides of sloping clay hills.
As we crossed a sandstone plane to navigate a crumbling rim with nothing to grip, Eric told Sheri to trust the Keens and Indiana Jones it if she really wanted to find the Protectorate. And there they were.
Climbing out, we were soaked, muddied and exhilarated. Who cared about the 2 mile walk back to the campground? Even though there was no electric or water, Betty had us covered, which was more than we could say for our neighbors.
Utah campers are a sturdy breed. They tent in curious ways. Soak and recover. In a campground without electric or water hook-ups, Betty sticks out from the rest. Not sure it’s for us, but as we see how people configure, we are drawn to the idea of exploring lite. Don’t tell Betty!
With a break in the rain, we debated 18 holes of disc golf – YES! – this park has it all, but the mud factor was high and there were bike trails to ride so we Como’d up and took off for Little Wild Horse Canyon, a paved road along BLM territory.
Remembering we are at the playground, we took the Comos off-road to see if we could get Betty in to a BLM site and stay forever. The Como’s quickly bogged down into the mud which showed little sign of supporting a 20,000 lb truck. Alas, we concluded Betty is level-headed, preferring concrete, gravel and hardpack to bumps, ditches and slog, unlike our go-anywhere, BLM-only friends in the extreme SUV off in the distance.
Winding our way back to camp, we passed the tanker ship landmark as dry pavement turned wet and mud flew off our wheels and onto our backs. The campers were emerging from their tents after another ground soaking rain burst had hit the camp while we were gone. The goblins spared us, this time, but would return during the night with a deluge.
Ga-Ga for goblins!