Utah has no shortage of scenic highways, but some of the state’s most rewarding drives begin where the pavement ends. This series explores the “back of beyond” – remote, rugged routes that require a little extra effort and a good set of tires. These are roads less traveled, where the views are wide, the traffic is thin and the story starts when the cell signal drops out.

The first time I drove into Cathedral Valley, I had to channel my inner Indiana Jones. Just a few miles from the highway, the road plunged into the Fremont River – no bridge, no signage, just a set of tire tracks disappearing into the water.

It hadn’t rained recently, and the current looked tame, but it was still hard to ignore the voice in my head warning, “This could go badly.” Still, I inched forward, gripped the wheel and bumped through the shallows like a fedora-clad archaeologist chasing relics.

That river crossing is just the beginning of Cathedral Valley’s charm. This remote northern district of Capitol Reef National Park offers a 58-mile loop through desert isolation, sculpted sandstone and scenery that belongs on another planet. It’s not technical four-wheeling, but it’s remote, rough and weather-dependent – exactly the kind of place where a little planning goes a long way.

Before heading in, check with rangers at the Capitol Reef Visitor Center for current road conditions. There’s no water along the route, no gas stations, and cell service is patchy at best. Bring a full tank, extra food, plenty of water and warm clothing – just in case the unexpected finds you before the end of the loop. Traffic is sparse. Help may be hours away.

The drive begins about 12 miles east of the visitor center, where Hartnet Road turns off Highway 24. Within minutes, it reaches the Fremont River – shallow when dry, sketchy after storms. There are two popular methods to test its depth. One is to hand your buddy the keys and say you need to take a photo. The other is to ask your spouse or least-favorite child to wade in. If they don’t disappear and the water stays below mid-calf, it’s probably safe to drive.

Five miles beyond the crossing, an abandoned, rusted-out, bullet-ridden truck and well-drilling equipment sits beside the road. The name on the door indicates the vehicle was owned by J. L. Pinkerton, and sources say it’s been parked here since 1946. While Pinkerton’s rig may have never moved, his well was apparently successful. Water now fills a nearby trough that’s seasonally used by grazing cattle.

At about 8½ miles in, the road reaches the Bentonite Hills – rounded geologic mounds brushed in dusty reds, purples, greens and grays. They’re beautiful when dry, but slick and tire-sucking when wet. Even a Sherman tank could get bogged down in their clay.

A spur road leads to the Lower South Desert Overlook. A short, easy trail ends with views of Jailhouse Rock – a 500-foot redrock butte rising from the valley floor. The trail continues down toward the basin, offering a good place to stretch your legs before motoring onward.

The first 16 miles of the drive are across Bureau of Land Management land. A sign lets you know when you reenter the national park. Spur roads beyond access more scenic viewpoints, such as the Upper outh Desert Overlook, where a short trail leads to stunning cliff-edge views, and the Upper Cathedral Valley Overlook, where pathways lead to vistas sure to make acrophobic visitors nervous.

Hartnet Road soon meets Caineville Wash Road, the route that completes the loop. A half mile beyond lies the no-fee Cathedral Valley Campground, which offers six primitive, first-come, first-served campsites with picnic tables, fire grates and a pit toilet.

The most rugged section of the route lies just beyond, as the road descends a series of narrow, rocky switchbacks. While the terrain can seem a bit gnarly, it’s usually manageable by gearing down and traveling slowly.

A mile ahead lies Morrell Cabin. Built a century ago, the one-room structure originally sheltered a family of eight at a logging camp in the nearby mountains. In 1932, rancher Lesley Morrell bought the cabin, dismantled it, numbered the pieces, and like a giant mail-order kit, reconstructed it here to serve as a cowboy line shack. Usage ended in the 1970s when the area became part of the national park. It stands today as a weathered landmark of Capitol Reef’s ranching past.

A few miles beyond, another spur road heads to the Gypsum Sinkhole – a 200-foot-deep pit formed when a large deposit of the mineral dissolved away. Ten miles farther, the route reaches Lower Cathedral Valley Spur Road. One arm leads to Glass Mountain, an impressive, 15-foot-tall mound of crystalline selenite gypsum crystals that glitter in the sun like shards of ice. Walk around the mound and hear the ground crunch underfoot – a sound both strange and satisfying in the silent desert.

Ahead rise the twin temples of the Sun and Moon – Cathedral Valley’s signature rock formations. These 300-400-foot-tall triangular monoliths of rusty-red Entrada Sandstone reach skyward from the flat desert floor. Along the canyon wall behind stand smaller spires, which, in keeping with the astronomical theme, became the Temples of the Stars. This stellar location provides an ideal spot to pause and take in the view – lunch optional.

The road continues 15 miles through open territory bounded by stark, striated mesas. While the route seems straightforward, drivers still need diligence. Steep dips where dry washes cross the roadway may require a bit of negotiating, and with unsigned side roads intersecting the main route, careful navigating may be necessary.

After 58-plus miles of bouncing down dirt roads, the route finally reaches Highway 24. The return to pavement is both civilized and jarring. From here, it’s 18½ smooth miles back to Fruita – and maybe, if you’ve timed it right, a fresh slice of pie at the Gifford House.

 

A Slice of Fruita

Back in Fruita, near the Capitol Reef Visitor Center, stands the Gifford Homestead – a modest 1908 farmhouse that today serves something the backcountry lacks: pie.

The shop is open seasonally and sells handmade fruit pies, baked daily in nearby Torrey. Flavors vary, but apple, cherry and peach tend to vanish quickly. Arrive in the afternoon and you may find nothing left but a faint scent and an apologetic chalkboard.

The house itself is part of the historic Fruita settlement. Heritage orchards planted by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint pioneers still produce fruit, and deer can often be seen nibbling windfalls from the trees. There are no tables inside, but shaded lawns and nearby picnic spots offer space to sit and enjoy a flaky reward.

After nearly 60 miles of washboard roads, bentonite clay and Entrada sandstone, a quiet bite of pie makes a civilized end to a decidedly uncivilized drive.