Cathedral Valley: More Than a Place

The most profound moments in the desert don’t announce themselves. They slip in quietly, unbidden and unforgettable. I’ve been lucky to experience more than a few in Cathedral Valley, a place I somehow dreamed of before I even knew it existed.

First introduced to me in 1992 during my travels with author Ward Roylance, Cathedral Valley quickly became something more than a destination. Its salmon-colored sandstone monoliths rise from the valley floor like soaring pillars of an ancient temple. Scattered black volcanic boulders and slender basalt dikes hint at the fiery past of surrounding volcanoes. There’s nothing else quite like it.

This isn’t a place for bucket lists or selfies. You don’t conquer it. You sit with it - long enough for the silence to deepen and the light to do something strange and beautiful. And if you’re paying attention, there’s a moment, maybe just one, when it all aligns. The land, the stillness, your breath. And suddenly, you’re not just standing in the desert - you’re part of it.

And then there’s Rhonda.

On our first camping trip in the valley, she was a bit apprehensive about the remoteness. I assured her there was nothing to worry about. Of course, I hadn’t counted on quite so many rattlesnakes. Or the pack of coyotes that serenaded us all night. Or the dozen times I answered, “Did you hear that?!”

Still, we laughed a lot. And in between the laughter and shared thoughts, there were moments of awe that I think changed us both.

Here are a few photos from that trip. They capture a bit of what I love about Cathedral Valley. It’s sacred ground, no question about it. In Cathedral Valley, you don't find answers - you find the kind of stillness that changes the questions.

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Photographer’s Guide to Cathedral Valley: Proceed with Awe (and Caution)

When it comes to photographing Cathedral Valley, my tips are less about technique and almost entirely about access. As I mentioned earlier, the rewards here are elusive. When things align - light, clouds, timing - it’s as close to Heaven on earth as I’ve ever experienced. But when they don’t? It can quickly become a hard lesson in desert travel.

This is not a turn-by-turn travel log. Check maps, road conditions, and forecasts carefully before attempting the trip.

There are plenty of reasons NOT to attempt the 60-mile Cathedral Valley loop. It's profoundly remote. You’ll be 100% responsible for your own safety, your vehicle’s wellbeing, and any decisions you make out there. Bring extra water, food, and emergency supplies - far more than you think you’ll need. Most of the route is usually passable for high-clearance vehicles, but sections of bentonite clay turn to impassable muck after even minor storms, sometimes remaining that way for days. Cell service? Don’t count on it. And if you do get lucky with a signal, know that help is still a very long way away.

Heading into Cathedral Valley after fording the Fremont River

In the heat of summer, the valley is mostly shadeless and brutally hot. Travel at that time is not just unpleasant - it’s dangerous.

This is not a loop to drive for the thrill of off-roading (there are better places), or to check off a bucket list (the biting insects will make sure you regret that decision). Hiking options are limited, and there are few marked trails. Go because you love the desert and accept everything that love demands - solitude, exposure, unpredictability, and reverence.

And don’t rush it. Go without a schedule. Go prepared to stay longer than planned. The best light arrives at dawn and dusk, and you’ll need time - more than you think- to do the place justice.

The 60 mile loop starts and ends along Highway 24, and one end requires fording the Fremont River.  Most of the time it’s shallow and tame - usually about a foot deep. But if it’s been raining anywhere upstream in the Capitol Reef region, the ford becomes completely impassable. My advice? Start your loop at this river crossing. That way, if it’s uncrossable, you know right away. The alternative of driving 60 miles of rugged backcountry from the Caineville entrance only to be turned around at the river, within a quarter mile of the highway, and that is... character building to say the least.  

Technically, yes, you could drive the whole loop in one very long, bumpy day. But if you have passengers, be warned: sixty miles of 4WD rattle can get old quickly. What’s tolerable behind the wheel can feel downright miserable in the passenger seat. Plus, with that quick of a visit, you are sure not to see anything.

The safest time to visit - when skies are clear and rain isn’t in the forecast - is also, unfortunately, the least photogenic. You’ll want to be there for dramatic skies, low light, and shadow-play at sunrise or sunset, particularly around the loop’s apex. An overnight stay is essential. 

Desert storms make for great drama in the sky, but that also happens to be the most dangerous time to travel.... and for stranded vehicles on the ground.

There is one small first-come, first-served campground in the valley, maintained by the park service. It’s wonderfully remote and rarely full. It’s also the only official campground inside park-managed land. Note that the Cathedral Valley road winds in and out of BLM territory, where you might find other primitive camping spots - if you're experienced and respectful.

In recent years, the 17-mile stretch between the Caineville (eastern) entrance and the Temple of the Sun and Moon has seen a surge in visitors. It’s the smoothest and best-graded section of road, making it tempting for those who want a quick taste of Cathedral Valley. Unfortunately, this popularity comes with downsides: social media has produced a flood of grinning selfies that unintentionally block the very features people come to see. Some even climb on Glass Mountain—a rare and delicate geological formation that should never be touched. It’s painful to watch.

One bright spot: the area is gaining a well-deserved reputation for astrophotography. The skies here are some of the darkest you’ll ever witness. If you come for the stars, I have nothing but encouragement. You won’t be disappointed.

So if this has scared you off a little... good. It should. This is not a casual photo op or a roadside attraction. Cathedral Valley demands effort, humility, and patience. But for those with a deep love for the desert - and a willingness to travel safely and responsibly - the rewards are beyond measure.

And if it sounds like too much? Don’t worry. Just down the road is Capitol Reef National Park - my favorite park in the country, hands down. It’s full of breathtaking hikes, great campsites, and unbeatable photographic potential. You could spend a lifetime exploring it and never run out of beauty to capture.

But if Cathedral Valley is calling, make sure you answer with respect, and two very well-stocked coolers.

Scenery

After fording the Fremont River, the road leads you into the Bentonite Hills - softly contoured formations banded in surreal shades of reddish-brown, gray-green, lavender, and deep blue. These rainbow-hued hills call to mind Arizona’s Painted Desert and the Badlands of South Dakota, though they have a mood all their own. As longtime rock-hounds, Rhonda and I have a deep appreciation for terrain like this. To us, it's beautiful in a subtle, quiet way - like a desert watercolor left out in the sun. That said, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. And a word of caution: this area turns into a sticky, impassable mess at the slightest hint of rain. Bentonite does not play around.

Bentonite - Colorful and dangerous.

Pure Desert. I love it all - the heat, the smells, the rugged terrain, the blowing sand and relentless sun.  It's not for everyone, and it can be deadly in an instant.

Fifteen to twenty miles from the Highway, after a stretch of slow, rugged travel through harsh desert terrain, you'll come to a series of overlooks with commanding views of the South Desert and the heart of Cathedral Valley - upper and lower. This is the good stuff. Prime terrain for wide-angle wonder. When you get here, stop. Stay the night. Wait. Watch. Let the desert decide if it wants to show you something rare.

There’s no formula for success here. Sometimes the magic shows up. Sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe next time. That’s just part of the deal in a place like this. Patience isn’t just helpful. it’s the whole game.

Sunset in Cathedral Valley

About 30 miles in, you'll hit a junction with a road that heads north to I-70. It's an option, but not a great one - long, rough, and light on scenery. My advice? Stick with the loop. Continue on toward the Temple of the Sun and Temple of the Moon, and eventually, the smoother road leading out to Caineville. It's a better ending to a difficult, unforgettable journey.