The palette of Palo Duro Canyon

Palo Duro Canyon long after sunrise

Early sun on the High Plains streaked red the thin cloud banks. The dome of sky over this flat land put on a light show in morning and evening. The quiet was pervasive – no traffic, only birdsong breaking everywhere.

Then the flatness ended abruptly at Palo Duro Canyon. There were no signs, the plains just opened. A half-dozen cars queued at the entrance gate, and more joined before the rangers rolled it back. The road passed a handful of lookouts onto the country’s second-largest canyon before the road began steeply winding down the canyon wall.

From the rim to its floor, Palo Duro ranges from 800 to 1,000 feet, and the canyon width runs from six miles to 20 miles. In the U.S., only the Grand Canyon is larger.

At every step the canyon delivers geology lessons. The canyon formed from the Prairie Dog Town Fork Red River – you read that correctly – which wore down the Llano Estacado plains along its banks to the caprock, forming scores of caves and hoodoos among the banded red rocks.

I found the Lighthouse trailhead quickly, although delayed my start by wandering down a series of other interconnected trails for about 20 minutes. Returning to the parking lot, found a trail marker with multiple warnings about high temperatures and need for a gallon of water per person. From one sign, an anthropomorphic prairie dog in a cowboy outfit told me – he wasn’t lying. Large stretches of the trail had little cover from the sun – or at least they would at a later hour. At 7 a.m., the sun had not baked all the cool air out of the canyon.

Trust this guy

I moved pretty fast. Once the trail climbs steadily during its first mile, it levels off, only dipping into a few dry creeks and arroyos. At its end lies the Lighthouse, the park’s most famous hoodoo, a tower of rock created by wind and water erosion. Anytime the wind kicked up, the mounting temperatures eased, if only for a minute or less.

Blue posts marked the trail every tenth of a mile. They either helped or annoyed people on the trail, but when branches of possible trails forked off the main route, blue posts kept me on target. Mountain bikes and horses shared the trail, which had multiple side loops. I watched enough people walk up turns meant for bikes and shook my head, especially those with really young kids.

Several towering hoodoos rose along the mesas on either side of the trails. A few resembled the Lighthouse. I had glimpsed the Lighthouse from an overlook that highlighted the various peaks and geologic features throughout the canyon.

The trail changed at mile marker 2.7, growing narrow and rolling over some steep terrain. Not being the most sure-footed person, I realized this path might not be for me. Besides, I was alone, and it seemed like the Lighthouse might be better experienced with someone else.

That I didn’t make it to the Lighthouse felt fine – I had seen numerous hoodoos along the trail and later on the loop drive along the canyon floor. Just being in this wild space between the looming red cliffs and their fragile towers left me refreshed.

While Charles Goodnight famously started one of the Panhandle’s first cattle ranches in the canyon. But for centuries, Palo Duro had been Comanche land, a place where they could hide and outwit their enemies. The Comanches were routed here during an 1874 battle, and most ended up on the Fort Sill reservation. It’s hard not to feel the Comanche influence across canyon. One could imagine their gunmen watching from the hoodoos and mesas, or parties on horseback emerging around every corner.

A full parking lot at the trailhead slowed the pace of new arrivals coming up the trail. For long stretches I had no company but birds and lizards. The day heated up considerably since I started but finishing at 10 a.m. saved me from any heat-related complications. I emptied my water pack on the home stretch to the trailhead  and chugged straight from the chilled gallon in my trunk. The almost-constant winds had left me quite grungy, bare skin coated with red dust.

I finished the loop trail, where remarkably few travelers ventured – it seemed everyone had designs on the Lighthouse trail like me. The scenery was no less magnificent further into the canyon. Were I not burnt from my hike, I would have taken on more trails. When I made my reservation, Palo Duro was day-use only. After I made my hotel reservation, they reopened the campgrounds. It would have been a spectacular spot for camping, with almost no light pollution and nature on all sides.

I contemplated coming back later in the day, even if I knew that would not happen. Instead, I snapped a few last pictures when swinging through the canyon, ascended its steep road and wound back to the plains that did their best to hide any traces of Palo Duro.