A rogue journalist slipped his chains escaping the content creation cube farm. On the run traversing the arterial highways of America, these are the Travels without Charley.
If your dream is to see the most possible number of hoodoos a person can see in a single day, then this is the place for you. The hoodoos were everywhere. Standing at a railing, looking off into the distance, looking down a cliff face, didn’t matter, hoodoos.
The park progressed on a steady incline until by Rainbow Point you are over 9,000 ft above sea level. Park your car, stretch, lock your door because even though we’re in the middle of nowhere we still suspect car thieves thanks to our sharp city edges, then gaze upon the beautiful landscape in front of you. Hoodoos.
Hoodoos gloriously jutting out of the ground like meerkats, filling nooks and crevices, rarely alone, mainly packed in communal family groups braving the winds, huddled together dominating the landscape and ensuring their place as the main resident of the canyon.
I would also like to make clear this isn’t a negative critique. I had no idea until entering Bryce (surprisingly not named after the head of a fraternity) that I appreciated hoodoos so much. Nor did I even know what a hoodoo was and on top of that I had no idea I was entering the hoodoo capital of the world!
Hoodoo originates from a remixing of the Southern Paiute word oo’doo which translates to a thing that inspires fear. But oooh boy, let me tell you, I wasn’t scared of those hoodoos at all.
If you like hoodoos, this is the place for you. If you’re scared of hoodoos, I would stay far away.
Bryce, keep up the good work and all that hoodoo that you do.