Honeycomb Rocks!

Car camping (kaar kam-ping') definition: attempting to replicate the comforts of home in a rurally located, government operated parking lot, using only a tent (or RV), a cooler full of adult beverages and cheap folding furniture.  Specifically involves over consumption followed by napping, burning things, and swatting flies while getting sunburnt.  Highlights include neighbor induced sleep deprivation and midnight use of a pit toilet while simultaneously holding your nose, a flashlight, and a ziplock bag full of toilet paper.

After our leg obliterating Subway hike, we nixed the backpacking for the weekend and decided to go car camping instead - something we have - oddly enough - only attempted once before.

The destination of choice was a campground an hour out of St. George in the Dixie National Forest called Honeycomb Rocks - so named because of the ridiculous lava rock formations that in some places are so full of holes, arches and other inexplicable shapes that they resemble a three dimensional honeycomb web.

We chose this over other closer campgrounds because a) it looked very, very different from any campground we had ever seen, and b) because it claimed the campsites were unusually private - something that is hard to find in most campgrounds where solitude means getting to change your pants without the neighbors cheering you on. 

There were a total of 21 different campsites to choose from, each one truly unique in it's own way.  Some had overhanging rocks that your could set your tent up underneath.  Others were like small canyons.  One had a rock shaped like an upside down bowl that you could sit under like a tent.  All were surrounded by bizarre white rock formations that were so crazy I can't even begin to imagine how they were created.

The site we ended up choosing was certainly the most unusual and unique campsite we had ever seen.  Our tent was in an alcove surrounded by cliffs on three sides. Very private, very quiet.

Even more unique was the other part of our campsite.  Equipped with a fire pit and a picnic table, it was literally a cave.

 

It turned out to be a great weekend.  Relaxing, quiet and full of all the junk food and hours of staring into a fire that every camping trip should include.  It was the last weekend that the campground was open for the season, and so while there were a few other campers around we rarely saw or heard anyone.

It was also a weekend chock full of all sorts of interesting critters.  First there was the mouse who lived in the cave who kept Maggie endlessly entertained - darting out to try to steal her dog food if she took her eyes off his mouse hole for even a moment.  Then there were the packs of coyotes (in the distance fortunately) who woke us up more than once singing and howling at the full moon which was our nightlight for the weekend.

Then there were rabbits and deer and chipmunks everywhere.  Most interesting of all were the cows grazing and mooing contentedly nearby.  One of them wandered into the campground late in the evening giving Stephanie and Maggie a good fright as they stumbled upon it in the dark.  At one point it was so close to our tent that we could hear it chewing.  Needless to say that would have been a terrifying sound to hear from our tent in the middle of the night if we didn't already know it was a cow.

The least exciting critter of the bunch?  See below.

(No not the cow, the tarantula.)

Interesting story - this is the second tarantula that has paid us a visit this year.  (Is it just me or is two tarantula incidents in one year two too many?)

The first was in Antigua.  One evening, it wandered into the living room of the house we were renting through an open door.  I quickly attacked it with a flip flop, disposing of it before Stephanie could identify it for what it was and decide to never sleep again.  I reassured her that it was a harmless "Fluffy Bunny Spider" that I had read about on-line. "Friendly and completely devoid of large biting poisonous fangs."  It wasn't until the plane ride home that I let on that it was in fact a tarantula - apparently very common in Antigua, and according to the number of suspiciously tarantula sized holes in our back yard - very VERY abundant.

This one however was a lot larger.  No hiding it from her this time.  If I had the fortitude and the spare time I would have tried to get something else in the photo so you could see how big this sucker was.

Make a tarantula shape with your hand.  Got small girlish hands?  That is pretty darn close.  Got big hairy man hands?  Ok that would be exaggerating a bit. (But let's face it, not the first time you exaggerated the size of something... am I right?)

In reality, tarantulas are relatively harmless.  Despite the movies that suggest the opposite, they are shy, and reluctant to bite even when threatened.  And while a bite from one can range from a wasp sting to a three day fever, there has never been a human death directly related to a tarantula bite - ever.

That said, after snapping this shot I was instructed to "please make it go away - permanently" and while I am not normally one to harm one of God's creations, like a knight in shining armor, I proceeded to club it to death with a stick of firewood.

(OK, in reality I tippey-toed towards it, threw the stick of firewood, then ran away shrieking like a little girl incase I missed...)

After two days of consuming calories we figured it was time to burn some off, and did go for a nice day hike through the forest, then looping back along the side of a nearby reservoir.

Maggie looked quite dapper in her backpack and new doggie hiking boots - which, by the way, she loves.  She has figured out that they give her Superman like traction, and so she runs flat out in every direction when we first put them on.   Hilarious.  The last shot is her taking a well deserved nap when we got back to the cave.

Up next... Three Days in the Escalante River Canyon.