Coyote Symphony

Water carved this singular amphitheater from petrified sand dune formations rising nearly 2500 feet from the Earth's surface. Then, as if to punctuate the already intense visual effect, the Author of this beauty poured some lava over the East edge of its canyon wall, covering red and white layers of sandstone with black basalt. The lava flowed south through the deep canyon floor and continued out the mouth of the canyon, finally stopping in present-day Ivins and Santa Clara. Discovered by the world, and in danger of being loved to death, Snow Canyon is now in the iron grip of State Park culture. It has become a haven for tourists and nature lovers who don't mind paying a fee to be mother-henned through a controlled experience. Its pretty enough that even I will occasionally ride through her bottoms--dutifully staying on the trail and paying the entrance fee.

Not this trip. When you go with the Rocky Mountain Mule Association, it is the ultimate ATV ride. The rougher it is, the more they enjoy it--guy and gal alike. We spent two days on the rugged upper platform that looks over Snow Canyon from above. Petrified dunes and ledges theme this landscape, and they didn't see a set they didn't like. Like mountain goats, the mules negotiate this stuff with grip and confidence. I had seen pictures before, now I have the perfect knowledge that comes from trying it. Mona Molly was a little hesitant to play in the ledges by herself, but she was perfectly willing to follow the more experienced mules.

My boys came along on the Mustangs. Two-year-old BarbWire was on her second ride and Justin agreed to take the honors. The Mustangs didn't cliff dive like the mules, but they covered some rough country with nerves of steel and perfect foot-work. Randy Johnson brought his winning barrel horse and was expertly careful about the country he traversed.

The stars shone clear and bright Friday night. Frost settled on our bed rolls as we lay curled around the flickering warmth of our campfire. About two a.m. we were treated to nature's symphony. It was theater in the round, but we were the center, and a musical entourage circled our camp. In perfect surround, with brilliance and nuance Dolby labs could never duplicate, the Coyotes performed a piece that left my heart standing, roundly cheering for an encore. First, a commanding bark somewhere off center shattered the heavy silence, answered by barks from the remaining quadrants--then the movement began. A harmony of staccato yips and soul-full howls penetrated the crisp black air--our stage lit only by star and the red glow of embers. It came in rounds like the primary songs of my youth, but with polished sophistacation-- rich of tone, pitch and key. The encore came a half hour later. No art or composition can compare. God is Good.