The Wave: Behind the Velvet Ropes of an Exclusive Hike

Serendipity! I was awarded a permit for two on my second internet lottery attempt. Our date of access was Friday, June 13, one day before my 38th birthday and three days before my wife's birthday. What a gift for such an ominous day!

About one month prior to our hike, the BLM sent us our neon pink permits (to be affixed to our packs) and a trifold set of directions that asked us to rely on images of landmarks rather than written description. There is no trail, there are no markings, and cairns are purposefully obliterated.

Although we are long time Arizona residents, hiking exposed all day in the middle of June was a concern. We heard the stories of dehydration, disappearance, and death. Our plan was to check out of the... um... sufficient Travelodge in Page, AZ, at 5am to be at the trail head as early as possible. We wanted to beat the heat. I wanted to be first that day. I estimated it would take two hours to make the three mile journey to the revered formation.

It is a 90 minute drive to the trail head, the last eight on very rough road. A BLM sign warned of risk and that any help would come too late. The road is certainly passable in a passenger car in dry weather. You would need a 4x4 in wet weather. The trail head is very well maintained as it is an entry point for several other hikes into Coyote Buttes North. There is a pit bathroom and an info station. After a final gear check, we signed the registry and were on our way to that other world.

The hike started out innocuous enough, typical southern Utah/northern Arizona, high desert sand and sage brush. After about a mile we climbed over a hill of that typical, red-beige striated rock and entered the Buttes. It was cool enough at 7am. We were more than occupied by the stillness, the silence, and the sights that many liken to Mars. The pictured directions were accurate, and we were making good time in spite of our many stops to look around with wonder, mouths agape. About a half mile to The Wave we entered a slog of ankle-deep, pink sand. It was slow and tedious going at that point. But, we knew we were close. (That pink sand would taunt us on the way back, trying to hold our feet in place, and when we did step forward gusts of wind would deposit many individual grains into any opening of our packs, our clothes, eyes, ears, nose, damp skin....)

I had hoped we would be the first there. We were the third group: the fifth and sixth individuals. There was a couple from Brazil and a father and daughter from Kanab who were bonding before she left for college. I am certain the Kanabites did not have a permit, but that's none of my business.

Like any of these places on The Outbound, there are the pictures, and then there is experience. They never compare. The scope, the size, the reality embed images with emotions and the five senses that are eventually processed into meaning and committed to memory. It is an intensely individual and intensely shared experience. Sometimes, we need to take care not to profane it with words.

The Wave is on the main stage; it sits at the foot of a mountain that has an arch at its summit. It looked to be a rather safe climb that could be done in an hour. We didn't try it. Instead we went east in search of the teepees, another surreal formation I discovered on Google images. The three, red and tan striped formations are about 50 yards from The Wave. We had them to ourselves for two hours as we sat, stared, ate lunch, and gave each other looks of disbelief. Stunned.

Realizing our water was getting low and feeling the sun at 104 degrees, we decided to make the journey back at 1pm. We passed a group of three from Japan. They had just started the sand slog. Including us, a total of nine people experienced The Wave that day as far as we saw. We were tired. And, the elation we felt going in changed to grim determination. We heard plenty about confident hikers who didn't overestimate their fitness but underestimated the summer desert. Our directions were ripped and worn from my incessant folding and unfolding review on the way in. The worn images were useless. We wasted time and energy ascending wrong hills twice. Father Kanabite warned us that only yesterday a helicopter rescued a woman one mile from the trail head. She could no longer walk. Mother Nature will never pass an opportunity to tell us she enforces the rules. Exhausted, sand scraped, and out of water we returned to the trail head by 3:30pm. Absolutely satisfied we survived, our elation kick started endorphins as we recovered in the rental car. A hike of a lifetime, two birthdays, and over 300 pictures, our bond to each other and to adventure was rejuvenated in a place of divine desolation--The Wave.