Off road and

out of this world

text and photographs by NOAH DAVID WETZEL

18 UTAH LIFE | MARCH/APRIL 2018

MAZE DISTRICT 19
 YING IN A small pool of rainwater, and potentially my
own tears, the thought of locating my headlamp and sleeping
pad was overwhelming. Exhausted from exploring the
desert that day, I deliriously rifled through mounds of gear in
the tightly packed vehicles.
I was in the heart of Canyonlands National Park, home to a
network of canyons that tempted my friends and me into loading
up our trucks and heading out into the desert for some adventur-
ous off-roading. Now one night into the trip, I was fatigued and
more tired than I had ever been before, and we were paying for
our obliviousness to the challenging terrain of the Maze District.
With towering sandstone pinnacles and sprinkled sagebrush
that make one canyon indistinguishable from the next, the Maze
District is the most remote part of any national park in the
Lower 48. Only 2,000 visitors each year explore this secluded
area while backpacking, canyoneering and biking.
Planning our trip, my friends and I had to acquire a permit
three months in advance. Daily travel in the Maze would be
slow and tedious. The roads – if you can even call them that –
are rocky and winding, and they demand high clearance four-
wheel-drive vehicles. Every bend in the road is a puzzle to solve,
and experts recommend having a friend outside the vehicle to
guide you around particularly tricky areas.
We lost cell reception after five hours’ travel from Salt Lake
City and said goodbye to the ease of pavement by the time we
reached the Hans Flat Ranger Station.
Welcoming us, the park ranger sternly called on our trip
leader to bring her the overnight permit. “Me, I guess,” my
friend Jake responded with a murmured chuckle.
The seven of us were confident about our off-roading trip until
the park ranger started her spiel. This must be important, we
thought to ourselves while gathering in front of the counter.

CHRIS VOLKMANN drives a rocky road through

the Maze District. Willie Nelson (not the singer)
sets up his tent at the Maze Overlook campsite.
Previous page: Nelson scrambles through High
Spur Canyon just outside of the Maze District.
20 UTAH LIFE | MARCH/APRIL 2018
MAZE DISTRICT 21
 Make sure you have an emergency medical kit, she said.
Drink no less than one gallon of water per person per day, and
pack at least 10 extra gallons of fuel per vehicle with a spare tire
and jack. Remember that vehicle towing has fees often exceed-
ing $2,000, and only one tow company services this remote out-
back. My friends and I looked at each other nervously, suddenly
feeling less enthusiastic about the trip ahead.
“Who does the 2006 Toyota Tundra belong to?” she asked.
“Mine,” Chris replied with pursed lips and a moment’s pause,
undoubtedly questioning what his friends had gotten him into.
The extended wheel base will be challenging but manageable,
she reassured us. “Just ooze, slowly ooze, over the rocks,” she
said, “and you should be fine.”
We had no idea how much oozing was ahead of us.

WE LOADED the trucks and got the group moving. The

initial descent into the Maze, known as the Flint Trail, was carved
into a sheer cliff, a place where you wouldn’t want to find your
tires greased in clay. In any case, we couldn’t just turn around.
Once we passed a certain point on the trail, we were committed.
Winding through corridors of juniper, painted with blooming
wildflowers and cactuses, we thought about the ranger’s precau-
tionary advice while reassuring Chris his vehicle would be fine.
“The next few miles will be challenging, and you will defi-
nitely scrape,” said another park ranger who was patrolling the
area in a Jeep built for the terrain. Her casual facial expression
should have inspired confidence as she continued in the oppo-
site direction without further warning.
We made it through the infamous “Z-turn” with few issues
other than a bent exhaust pipe and a few scraping screams
from the undercarriage of the Tundra. Approaching the next
problematic feature only a few hundred feet later, we carefully
positioned rocks and rehearsed tire placements for nearly 20
MAC CONOLLY minutes before our first attempt.
rappels 83 feet down Twirling his hair in the unnerving boredom, Willie reminded
High Spur Canyon. Chris to “ooze” at every opportunity while he gently eased over
Ian Mason stares into the first ledge and onto our first ramp. Despite the contradict-
the canyon’s illumi- ing guidance from two or three friends outside the vehicle, the
nated interior. Facing first move had been executed perfectly; however, as the Tundra
Page: The view from began to crawl up the second ledge, its frame slowly twisted and
the Standing Rock the front tires lost traction.
campsite shows the Walking around the vehicle in silence and utter dismay, we
realized both ends of the Tundra were suspended between ledges.
Maze District in its
The only thing that will get us out of this situation is a heli-
labyrinthine glory. copter, I thought. We exchanged theories for dislodging the
truck and eventually decided to build earth around the tires to
gain traction, but the area around us was picked clean. Every
nugget had been used build the ramp that got us into this pickle.
We quickly formed a seven-man fire line and extended our
search perimeter, avoiding cactuses. Things weren’t looking
good for us. If only we had a tow strap!
To our surprise, we discovered one member of our crew was
withholding vital information. Jake soon wandered to his Jeep
and came back with a strap. He connected it to the frame of the
Tundra and pulled us out.
I’m still not sure if he had just forgotten about the strap or if he
22 UTAH LIFE | MARCH/APRIL 2018
MAZE DISTRICT 23
was enjoying watching us suffer in some sadistic pleasure.
Hours quickly vanished as Willie – resembling a tank com-
mander with his body positioned in the sunroof – guided our
safe passage over the unforgiving terrain.
After that misadventure, we were starting to get the hang of
the Maze District, and we were finally able to appreciate the
incredible beauty of the area. Underneath crisp blue skies, we
traversed exposed canyon walls. We descended terraces of slick
rock, shelves carved by small pools of water and cracks with
weathered trees growing from them. We even saw cliffsides
adorned with pictographs and petroglyphs.
As we navigated the meandering desert wash, we challenged
ourselves once again by leaving our vehicles behind and squeezing
our bodies through High Spur Canyon. Claustrophobic at times,
the textured walls revealed slot canyons of spiraling sandstone.
Bridging our way above cloudy pools of cold water, we anxiously
questioned when we would encounter a long rappel. Beams of
warming light guided us through glowing corridors before reaching
a spacious opening with massive boulders. As Jake, Ian and Mac
double-checked the pre-existing anchors, the remaining members
and I equipped ourselves with ski helmets then peered over the
80-foot drop in silence and reverence.
My thoughts couldn’t help but reference an awkward rappel
down a tiny 10-foot wall earlier in the day, when I found myself
upside down (due to the weight of my camera equipment)
amidst the laughter of my friends. What if this happened way
up here?
Leaning over the edge, Ian confidently reassured me as I inched
my way down – upright, I may add – my comfort growing every
foot closer to the ground. With encouragement from above and
below, everyone successfully descended, regrouping with enthusi-
asm – thank goodness that was over.

IT WAS A RELAXED atmosphere around camp that night as

we gazed at the La Sal Mountains. Surrounded by endless solitude
on a high plateau, we stood underneath a singular spire of towering
rock and felt as if the desert were ours.
The past week was magical, our friendship had strengthened,
and in celebration Ian treated us to champagne at sunset. Lying
shoulder to shoulder, we conserved heat and gazed at dozens of
shooting stars, serenaded with relaxed sighs and the Milky Way.
We had barely shut our eyes before the first rays of morning light
struck our tents, turning them into sweltering ovens. It was time to
go home.

4x4
Rationing gas, and our gauges below empty, we all crested the
Flint Trail as it began to snow. We had left
just in time, since water and clay make AUTHOR
for some pretty fierce driving conditions. Noah Wetzel is
With more than 40 hours spent in the a professional
vehicles and no remaining music, I vol- photographer who
unteered to drive for the first time. The winters in Sandy. Exploring Utah’s desert land
wind outside the vehicle lulled Willie and He’s often found by 4x4 is mighty fun, but full of
Chris to sleep, the silence provoking my knee-deep in Utah’s
thoughts of a hot shower – and of return- famous powder,
mighty risks … a long way from
ing to explore the desert once again with photographing civilization. Here are a few tips
my friends. skiers and boarders. from the pros to the greenhorns.
24 UTAH LIFE | MARCH/APRIL 2018

WHEN 4x4, GO 2x2: You never know
when you’ll get stuck, stranded or
otherwise up a creek. Take a buddy in a
second vehicle to bail each other out, and
share the fun along the way. Grouping up
is a safe way to stay out of trouble.
DON’T SKIMP ON SUPPLIES: Extra
gas, oil, coolant, tow straps, shovel,
jack, tools, emergency medical kit,
clothing, CB or ham radio, food and
water, water, water are essential.
JAKE DAVIS and Hadley
Simms gaze into the heart
of the Maze District as night
descends on the Standing
Rock campsite on the
final day of their trip.
THE MAZE DISTRICT
illustration by Julian Amundson
KNOW YOUR RIDE: Does it have
lockers, PTO, posi-traction or
proportioning valve braking? The point
is, understand what your vehicle can
and cannot do.
H-E-L-P: There are no strangers on a 4x4
trail. If you see someone in need, stop,
give them a hand and stay with them until
they’re safe. If you need to leave them,
get name, license plate, vehicle make
and model, and relay to authorities.
MAZE DISTRICT 25