. . . My adrenaline kicks in and I book it down the trail in record time. I’m the only one present. I take in my surroundings—a golden hour dreamscape of fantastical painted rock formations. It’s everything I hoped it would be.

June 22–23, 2025

I have visited Capitol Reef National Park once before, but like this visit it was only for a single night returning from another national park. This time around I am driving back home from Great Basin National Park, making a slight detour off Interstate 70 for a day. It’s about 2:00 p.m. and I roll into the historic town of Fruita. My arid desert drive is punctuated by the town’s famous orchards fed by the Fremont River—a small oasis of green in the middle of Utah’s red rocky interior. Stopping at the Visitor Center I check out conditions for the region. Weather is sunny and warm with sunset at 8:52 p.m. and sunrise at 6:02 a.m. These times are important as the colors of the desert are on full display.

With some time to kill, I stop by Fruita Campground and set up my tent. I note that Scenic Drive, the main road running south into the park, is closed beyond the campground. Bummer. Looks like road renovation is underway for the summer. I was hoping to hike to Cassidy Arch from Scenic Drive tomorrow morning. Thankfully, Cassidy Arch can be accessed from another angle off UT-Route 24 via the Grand Wash trail.

With not much to do before sunset, I leave camp and head for Hickman Bridge Trail, a short 1.5-mile route to a 133-foot wide natural rock arch. Because it’s summer and a rather accessible hike, I expect to run into a crowd at the bridge, but I find I have the place to myself, a rare gift in the National Park world. I grab as many photos as I can in the solitude and head back down the trail toward the car, stopping every now and then to explore neat caves and rock formations along the way.

However, just before the parking lot, I spontaneously opt to hike the nearby Rim Overlook Trail, a 4-mile round trip out-and-back route up to a scenic viewpoint of Fruita and the surrounding cliffs. Spiny Lizards dark to and fro across the path from shade to shade as I wind my way up the rock in the westering sun. A hot dry wind blows in my face. The sky seems hazy. A faint hint of smoke from southern wildfires drifts north over the park adding a layer of atmosphere to the scene.

At the top, I catch my breath and enjoy the view for an hour trying to time my hike back with the sunset. The path up to Rim Overlook is not well marked. Portions of the route follow small cairns for some distance, requiring intentional route-finding, so while I want to catch the sunset from the Rim, I decide to head back while I still have light to follow the trail. On the way down, the sun begins to illuminate the white rock formations in a radiant glow. The smoky sky turns deep pink and purple as it falls into shadow on the eastern horizon. And the temperature drops significantly, creating the perfect hiking conditions. I do my best not to linger too long, returning to the car at 8:00 p.m.

With another 50 minutes until official sunset, I take my chances and zip over to Sunset Point on the western side of the park. Racing the sun, I park, hop out, and blitz down the half-mile trail to catch the dying light on Capitol Reef’s famous Waterpocket Fold cliffs. I make it just in time. The rocks flash a vibrant vermillion for about 10 minutes before plunging into deep purple and blue. I’m not the only one with this idea. A photographer down the trail is conducting a wedding shoot for a beaming couple. Yes, this is always a strange encounter in the wild, but it lends a sense of awe and reverence to the scene—a recognition that this moment in time is special. Returning to camp from a gorgeous sunset, I grab some dinner and crash in my sleeping bag, alarm set for 4:45 a.m.

I can’t remember the last time I slept so well during a campout. Cool, but not cold, temperatures and a dark starry sky makes for good sleeping conditions in the park. So well in fact, I wake up naturally at 4:34 a.m. ready to go. I gather my hiking gear and quietly steal out of the campground for the Grand Wash trailhead along UT-Route 24. I’m the first one to arrive. No other cars are in the small pullout. The sky is a deep blue with a few stars clinging on in the growing light. I grab my headlamp and hit the trail.

Trail is a loose term. The route really follows a dry creek bed (or sand wash) into the a slot canyon. The trail spur for Cassidy Arch lies 2 miles down the path. It’s an exhilarating hike, twisting among the massive rock walls passing by only as shadows in the faint light. I anticipate the return hike and imagine what views I’m missing in the dark. My mileage tracker hits 2 miles and I still haven’t reached the Cassidy Arch turnoff. Perhaps it’s just a little further down. I press on. By now, blue hour is light enough to pack away my headlamp. I pick up my pace hoping to hit Cassidy Arch at sunrise or shortly after.

Finally, I reach the junction after another half mile. Taking the 1.5-mile Cassidy Arch Trail I begin a sharp incline climbing switchbacks up to the top of the canyon. The light is about to break. With half a mile left to go I round the corner and see Cassidy Arch in the distance just as the sun bursts on the scene, inflaming the red-orange sandstone. Now, my adrenaline kicks in and I book it down the trail in record time. I’m the only one present. I take in my surroundings—a golden hour dreamscape of fantastical painted rock formations. It’s everything I hoped it would be.

Cassidy Arch is unique in that it is one of the few rock arches open to visitors. I can literally walk across the rock bridge, so I set up my camera gear to capture the moment and make my way out on the arch. The scene is probably more impressive from my camera’s angle. From my perspective on the arch, I feel like I’m just standing on a high rock wall. Only my camera knows I have a hundred-foot drop below me. Back in the Grand Wash, cliffs tower above me casting dramatic shadows over the river bed. Enjoying the solitude I take my time returning to the car, soaking in the morning atmosphere. A few morning hikers pass by taking advantage of the cool temperatures on their way to Cassidy Arch.

Back at the trailhead, I climb in the car, a bit relieved to be done with my 9-mile hike, and drive to camp. I pack up my tent and prepare to drive the 8 hours home. However, before doing so I stop in the Gifford House to get the scoop on fruit-picking. In fruit season, visitors are encouraged to pick and eat fruit in the orchards, but according to the staff, the orchards are not fruiting well this year. It’s disappointing, but understandable. So I snag a few photos of the orchards beneath the red cliffs and begin the homeward journey. I leave Capitol Reef, surprised at its hidden beauty, vowing to return and give it the true exploration it deserves. . . . but only when Scenic Drive is not under construction.