Goofin' Around the Markagunt Plateau

 09/22/26

I only had one day off for the week and I decided to spend most of it laying in bed doing absolutely nothing. But then I remembered that my season here in the west was coming to a close and I didn't know when I'd be here again so I was like "fine, I suppose I gotta do something" so I figured I'd just go for a drive and see what was up.

Drove up to Cedar City, stopping at a Maverick along the way for a plastic-flavored burrito and a surprisingly good corndog. Not sure why I purchased it; I'm not very fond of corndogs truth be told. Don't even remember the last time I had a corndog; it's been a fat minute. Almost as fat as that corndog. Thing sat nice and heavy in my gut, as if I'd just swallowed a ceramic brick. Man, you gotta love that gas station food. Does a good job at filling the void, and an even better job at filling the toilet.  

And so I drove through Cedar City with a belly full of slop and I saw a sign for Cedar Breaks National Monument and I was like "well, I haven't been there for a while," so I hooked a right on SR-14 and kept on driving, heading towards the Markagunt Plateau. Last time I was up there was in July of 2021, so I was curious to see if it had changed much. 

But first: some goofin' around. Yeah, I was feelin' a little funky after downin' that gas station grub and I was in the mood to walk it off for a couple hours. I stopped at this dirt pullout for the Red Hollow Trailhead, a place of which I knew nothing about. Seemed like a cool spot, so I went for it. Hopped out the car with my trusty backpack and a single bottle of water and set off on the trail to see what it had in store.

"The Red Hill"

The trail took me up a small valley of sorts, the slopes off to the west highly captivating. Steep, brushy, and peppered with cool red boulders, this area was just begging to be explored. So when the trail eventually dumped me on a saddle, I decided to climb up through the boulders just to see how far I could get. As I was heading up, I recalled a day spent scoping some maps around the Cedar City area and realized I was ascending something called "The Red Hill." Thing ain't much of a hill; it's more of a short ridge that juts out of the earth. But it was neat. Real neat. All the class 2 and mild, unnecessary class 3 scrambling did a great job of distracting me from the brewing storm in my gut. 

View from the "summit" of the Red Hill

North

Cedar City

I eventually reached the top and tried to find a highpoint of sorts; there were many good contenders but since I didn't have a GPS I couldn't say for certain which bump was the highest. I climbed all of them, just to be sure. The views were pretty good along the ridge, especially those towards Cedar City to the west. Little pools of water sat undisturbed in tiny divots and dimples in the fiery-red boulders strewn about the summit area, the air fresh with the scent of recent rain. Without want or care, I kinda just bumbled along the ridge, climbing up boulders, lookin' around, no agenda or anything. Once I'd had my fill, I turned around and hiked back to the saddle where I started up towards the feature on opposite side of the small valley: Thor's Lookout.

I followed a well-worn trail all the way to this ramshackle collection of rocks and sticks and graffiti arranged in the configuration of a sorry, sorry throne, the kind of throne that would make the person sitting in it instantly melancholic. This must've been the supposed "lookout," and I gotta admit, the view from there wasn't bad. But if this was indeed the lookout point for the revered god of thunder then he must've fallen on some hard times, 'cause dang, that thing looked pitiful. 

The pitiful throne

The view from the throne

Still in the mood for some wanderin' and whatnot, I decided to scamper up the hill directly behind the throne. To my surprise, it didn't seem like I was the only person that had this idea. I followed a faint use-trail as it snaked its way up the steep slope, the thing mostly made up of loose dirt. When I got to the summit ridge I decided to head north, hitting up a highpoint that was marked with a little stack of rocks. There used to be a register under there, but years of exposure to the elements had long since destroyed it. 

The summit of the northern highpoint

Heading back to the southern highpoint

I retraced my steps and followed the ridge to the southern highpoint, ducking under crispy branches and avoiding the occasional prickly offender along the way. Didn't find nothin' on this summit. Just a decent view of SR-14 wrapping up and away towards the Markagunt Plateau. 

Looking towards the Markagunt Plateau 

Hikin' back down the Red Hollow Trail...

I was feelin' pretty good by this point; the storm in my gut nothin' but a distant memory. But the afternoon was growing long and I still had to check out Cedar Breaks after all. So I boot-skied down the steep, loose slope back to the lookout, back to the trail, back down the small valley and away to the car. Started 'er up and continued the drive along SR-14, the scenery just as scenic as I remembered it. 

Mysterious canyons, dignified pines, colorful aspens, their leaves brilliant and golden in the afternoon sunlight. I continued along the road until finally making a left towards Cedar Breaks, stopping at a pullout for a brief detour up to Blowhard Mountain. I remembered seeing this thing the last time I was in the area and I wanted to get a closer look at all the kooky metallic structures on the summit. So I walked up the road, the air slightly breezy, everything crisp and cool and colorful. 

Shouldn't have made the effort to go up there; Blowhard Mountain is what you would call a goofy summit. The metallic structures were definitely interesting, but not as interesting as I'd imagined. They were just big. Big and noisy, humming like an asinine boy's choir all out of tune. I wandered around for a bit, found the highpoint, took some photos, and then called it good. The ONE saving grace of ol' Blowhard was the view south towards Zion National Park. Saw the West Temple down there, clear as day in the distance. Ain't never seen the park from that angle, so it was mighty fascinating to say the least.

The metallic structures of Blowhard Mtn

Zion National Park from Blowhard Mtn

Alright, time for the main thing: Cedar Breaks. I pulled into the visitor center parking lot, hiking immediately towards Point Supreme. This was the first spot I'd visited when I was last there five years ago, and you know what? Looked exactly the same. Save for the clouds. It was overcast when I last visited. And the people. Lots of different people, most of them senior citizens just bobbin' around and talkin' amongst themselves about the views and the sky and the trees and whatnot. I didn't linger long; just enough to take one photo and then I was off to a spot I ain't ever been to before: Spectra Point.

Hiking towards Spectra Point

Cedar Breaks

Simply followed a well-developed trail all the way there. Not too many people out and about; I mainly had the whole thing to myself. I stopped at the guardrails and snapped photos of the cliffs and canyons, the whole thing looking like a discount version of Bryce Canyon National Park. Silence in the air; nothing but the breeze and the sky and the shifting clouds.

And while I was standing there, all at once, for no reason whatsoever, I was reminded of why it is that I venture into the sticks in the first place. Solitude. Peace of mind. Meditation. This whole year, I've been putting my body through the wringer, climbin' peaks or doing these long-ass days in the woods, numbing my mind through the sheer act of physical exertion. And that's all well and good, but I've been doing it to excess. And ain't nothin' good in excess.

Standing there at Spectra Point, I was reminded of the days spent wandering the Sespe Wilderness, backpacking with the family, going about my days in the woods in a relaxed, unhurried fashion. No goals, no sufferfest. Just a simple meditation in the calm of the sticks. 

And I stood there behind the guardrails for long, long time, reminiscing on days past, watching the clouds drift by, overcome with this feeling of peace and wonder that I haven't felt since I first started writing this blog. Sometimes you just gotta get out there and goof around and simply enjoy the sticks for what they are. It'll do you good. 

The view from Spectra Point

And so, with this new, relaxed state of mind, I left Spectra Point and casually strolled back to the visitor center, started the car, and drove up the road with the windows down, absorbing the essence of the high country. I made a right and pulled off the road for a minute, deciding to check out the highpoint of the monument, the unassuming Markagunt Hill. This was probably the shortest hike to a summit I've ever done: whole thing was less than a quarter mile roundtrip and only took me just over five minutes to complete. Found a small summit cairn on the top; nothin' else. Just a bunch of downed trees and thorny bushes. 

Markagunt Hill

Finished with that little side-trip, I drove back to the main road, following it out of the monument until I reached a sign displaying things about the Ashdown Gorge Wilderness. Intrigued, I pulled over and walked along a trail that sat right next to the sign, following it until I reached yet another view of Cedar Breaks, unknowingly walking over the wilderness highpoint in the process. Saw the same cliffs at the viewpoint, same shades of red, same discount-lookin' Bryce Canyon-esque terrain. But it was nice. Nice and calm, nice and peaceful. I stood there for a moment or two, watched the clouds again, watched the light dance upon the redness of the soil. And then it was back to the car, back to drivin', back to goofin' around without any plans whatsoever, simply burnin' daylight for the sake of it. 

Brian Head

Saw Brian Head. It was close. There's a dirt road that goes all the way to the top. I saw a few vehicles making their way up that road, all of them in a line going slow and steady as if participating in some sacred ritual. I figured I'd follow suit and I hooked a right and drove up the dirt road but only for a little ways, stopping at the Sidney Peak trail. Yeah, there was still a fair amount of daylight left and I didn't feel like burnin' it away on ol' Biran Head so I decided to venture out into the sticks yet again, back to wanderin' around in the silence of the Markagunt Plateau. 

Sidney Peaks from Peak 11082

Peace and quiet, subtle breeze, low clouds hovering up above. Just me and my thoughts, bumblin' along, goofin' around, hittin' up highpoint after highpoint just to see what was up. Ditched the trail and made the brief and easy ascent to Peak 11082, the top of which displayed an excellent view of the Sidney Peaks collection. I decided right then and there that I'd climb each and every one of them, why, I don't know. Seemed like a good way to pass the time. 

Sidney Middle (left) and Sidney North (Right) from 
Peak 10989

Picked up the trail and followed it until reaching a gentle saddle between Middle Sidney and Peak 10989. Ditched the trail again, following a tranquil ridge to mellow summit, the highpoint of which was hidden in scraggily pines. After that, I retraced my steps and checked out North Sidney, the sun casting long shadows over everything, the breeze seemingly carrying all sound off and away into nowhere. 

View from North Sidney

Brian Head out there

Walked through the grass, dodged the trees, jumped over the deadfall. There were two high points on North Sidney; I climbed both of them, not for any high and mighty reason, but simply because I could. And then I wandered on over to Middle Sidney, posting up and a stack of rocks near the highpoint and I just sat there and leaned my head on my fist and went "wow." 

It wasn't the terrain that struck me most. Or the lighting. Or the views. Or even the mountain itself. In all honesty, Middle Sidney, at least to me, is a very forgettable summit. What got me was this strange feeling of solitude, of peacefulness, of halcyon days long since past. The clouds blocked out the sun, casting dark shadows over everything, adding to the mystique. A crisp moon was just beginning to jut up from the horizon, peeking over the tippy-tops of the trees like a kid trying to steal one last peace of Halloween candy while no one is lookin'. And I sat and gazdd upon it all and I got hit with that same feelin' I got at Point Supreme and I let it ride and ride and ride, simply meditatin' on that summit like an old and weathered rock at the bottom of the ocean. 

North Sidney from Middle Sidney

Brian Head (left) from Middle Sidney

And I watched the sun gettin' lower and lower and I knew that I just had to, just HAD to see the sunset on top of Brian Head. Alright. No more dilly-dallying. I skipped off the summit of Middle Sidney and coasted on down the trail, bobbin' away back to the dirt road. But of course I just had to check out the very last Sidney Peak of the Sidney Peak collection and so I ditched the trail one last time for one final, quick side-trip to a spot that I didn't need to see but saw anyway. 

South Sidney

View northeast from South Sidney

Oddly enough, this was the only peak out off all the Sidneys that had a summit register. And odder still, it would appear that someone gave this Sidney a name: "Noni Peak." Sidney, Noni, I didn't care. Peaks are peaks. Names come and go but the story of the mountain stays the same. It's still gonna be the same ol' mountain no matter what. Don't matter what you call it; it ain't gonna change!

And so I perused the entries in the booklet; placed in 2025, the thing has seen very few visits, surprise surprise. Why anyone would want to hike all the way out to this random bump on the Markagunt Plateau is a mystery to me. But, then again, what was I doing way out there on this random bump on the Markagunt Plateau, hmmm? Couldn't tell you. And I suppose the others in that register couldn't tell you either. Just goofin' off like me I guess.

Satisfied with the mysteries of South Sidney/Noni Peak, I said goodbye and trotted down to the trail, the Sun now hiding behind the horizon, everything around me cold and shadowy. Put on some layers, stuck my hands in my pockets, trucked on out of their back to the road and up to the top of Brian Head. Got there right as the last rays of light were fading away on the horizon, just in time to see the end of the opening act as it prepared the audience for night, night, night. 

Hikin' up the road to Brian Head

There was an old guy up there dressed in a coat and a beanie and he was talkin' on the phone to some guy on speaker about who knows what. He saw me, waved, and then wandered away to the north, babblin' to his buddy about things I can only imagine. I trekked on over to the summit shelter, touched the benchmark, took a long look at the view. Someones car alarm went off down in the resort area; heard it like it was right next to me, everything was just so quiet. And then it was shut off and it was back to silence and I waited until it was good and dark and that about wrapped up the day; I simply moseyed on down the road back to the car and drove on out of there. 

Cedar Breaks from Brian Head

Drove into Cedar City, stopped at a Panda Express for a late dinner, and then it was back to the casa. Shower, teeth, pajamas, beddy-bye time. No more goofin' around. Time for sleep. It had been an excellent way to spend my only day off. A nice reset. A good break from the humdrum of everyday life. All in all I ended up hikin' a combined 17 miles with around 4,000ft of elevation gain, not that it matters. What mattered was the peace and the silence and the reignited whimsy of gettin' out there and enjoying the sticks for what they are. And by did I get my fair share of that!