Hidden Splendor and Mexican Mountain

In the remote Utah backcountry is an airstrip named “Hidden Splendor.” How could anyone resist a spot with a name like that? Before our trip we reviewed the entry in the Utah Backcountry Pilots Online Guide.

“This airstrip is usually in good condition, smooth and dry. It is still one of Utah’s most hazardous airstrips. Both ends of the airstrip terminate at a cliff edge so landing either too short or too long would likely be fatal. Parts of the airstrip are also narrow with drop-offs off the edge of the runway. There is rising terrain in every direction. It is a narrow canyon to the southeast. The terrain to the North West looks gentle but rises at a deceptive rate.”

Our friend and guide, Mike Marker suggested we use the standard approach — through a winding narrow canyon to the runway threshold. Sounded like fun.

On our first pass we stayed above the canyon walls to test the winds. It was dead calm. A canyon run should be no problem today. I followed above Paul and watched him land then returned to the entrance for my approach and landing.

The landing field was crossed by two deep gullies that were filled in for the runway. If you strayed off either edge, you were toast. High canyon walls pressed in on three sides, giving little room to maneuver. I understood why GA pilots preferred the canyon run over a downwind, base and final pattern below the rim. But the maneuverability and short take off and landing capability of our trikes made it easy for us. I touched down at midfield and parked next to Paul’s trike in a sheltered spot at the north end of the runway. We ate lunch on the small hill next to the windsock. This was yet another fantastic camping spot, but we had one more airstrip to fly to today, Mexican Mountain.

We took off and headed north through the approach canyon and turned north. Hidden Splendor is located at the southern end of the San Rafael Reef. Mexican Mountain is at the other end, 45 miles to the north. Paul pulled ahead of me and out of sight as I wandered around on our flight north. Although I had the coordinates for Mexican Mountain loaded into my GPS, I really didn’t know where it was. I only knew it was next to a mountain and a river. The only river I could see was the Green, in a wide flat basin to the right, but my GPS pointed into the rough country west of the San Rafael Reef.

I passed over a small stream cutting through the San Rafael Reef. Could this be the river? Then where was the mountain? The stream emerged from a jagged dark crevice cut through black rock, seeming to descend into hell itself. The crevice eventually led to a butte encircled by the river. This must be Mexican Mountain. Far ahead, I saw the strobes on Paul’s trike going around a corner. When the airstrip finally came in view, Paul’s trike was on ground at the center of the runway with Mike’s S-18 and another plane parked in the trees. After circling around to let Paul clear the runway, I landed between the cottonwood trees which gave you the impression of flying through a slot. Mike had met another pilot, Griff, at Canyonlands Airport and had invited him along. The four of us took a short hike over to view a series of mysterious petroglyphs, the best I have ever seen. As it grew dark, we relaxed around the campfire for dinner. This was one of my best flying days ever.