050914 - CITY OF ROCKS

Sep 14, 2005
City of Rocks

Having traveled southwest from Pendleton, Oregon, we passed thru Boise, Twin Falls and Delco. In one brochure, we were encouraged not to miss The City of Rocks, so we added it to our itinerary.
From Delco, we were directed down highway 77 which started out as a well built and smooth road. The sign that told us the City of Rocks National Park was 43 miles didn’t bother us too much until the road started to deteriorate into dirt road detour 10 miles later due to construction on the “main “ road.

For the next 30 miles, at about 25-30 mph, we trekked on thru dusty, semi-graded, unmarked roadway. It got to the point that I didn’t care if we were going to the City of Gold and they were giving free samples. I wished I could turn back. 2 hours later we finally arrived at the Visitors Center, watch an 8 minute video, picked up some brochures and asked for further directions.

A couple of humorous incidences along the way did break the sour mood the road had put me in – first a small wagon train, consisting of about 6 pint sized covered wagons, and about 6 horseman. I’m guessing it was a tourist thing, but it was the last thing I expected on the road from hell.

Not much further down the road I ran across the smallest cattle drive I ever saw – maybe 6-8 steers, being driven by about as many cowboys, and being followed by a cattle truck which looked big enough for this tiny herd. Unfortunately, driving was difficult and stopping to take pictures was not on my mind.

from the visitors center, it was a few more miles to the actual location of THE CITY OF ROCKS and once there, these rocks were spread along a trail about 10 miles long.

I guess my imagination and expectations got ahead of me, but as I stared at the rocks, I had trouble enjoying them. True, they were big, … very big rocks …
But the names they were given had no resemblance to their shape. The elephant rocks I guess looked like elephants laying down, and the Twin Sisters were just two large and tall rock formations alongside each other. The bathtub rock is about 50 feet high and maybe about that much in diameter and if you climb to its brim, there is a depression that makes it look like a bath. I will take their word for it.

There were a bunch of campsites available – I’m glad I didn’t know that – because I might have been tempted to make reservations and then be even more disappointed. The sites were primitive – dry camping – and for the very hardy.

I felt obliged to take lots of pictures to justify the effort it took to get there, and then realized that leaving was going to be just as difficult – 52 miles of hard driving on cattle roads to the interstate. All in all, a full day behind the wheel and a grateful early night’s sleep at Willard Park (Utah) … a small, off road RV park with nothing to offer other than peace and quiet.

I may send out a large batch of pictures so you can decide for yourself if these rocks look like anything. There was one formation that did look like a bear mounting an elephant. Tell me if you agree.

In the future, I will rename this experience as The Valley of Rubble. This is a place that only Fred Flintstone could love.

Till next time,