Chasing Giants and Ghosts: The Hike to Kachina Bridge Ruins

Natural Bridges National Monument is a quiet gem of southeastern Utah, home to three spectacular natural stone bridges - Sipapu, Kachina, and Owachomo - each representing a different stage in the life cycle of these rare formations. With far fewer visitors than Utah’s famous national parks, it offers a more peaceful, intimate experience of deep canyons, star-filled night skies, and ancient cultural sites. It’s the kind of place where you can hear your footsteps echo beneath cliffs carved by thousands of years of desert floods. 

On one of our camping trips there, Rhonda and I did a hike to Kachina Bridge - the youngest and most massive of the three bridges, with a thick, sturdy span that’s still actively being enlarged by erosion. 

There's a raw, silent beauty to the desert that sinks into your bones when you do hikes like this. It’s a beauty that unfolds in layers - from wide-open vistas with the scent of juniper in the air, to the deep, hidden secrets tucked away in shaded alcoves.  This fairly strenuous trail led to a stunning geological formation, alongside silent whispers of an ancient past.

Kachina Bridge - Our Destination

The hike descends into the belly of Armstrong Canyon, dropping nearly 500 feet, winding down steep slickrock switchbacks, including a section with a sturdy wooden ladder. The hike requires steady footing and a mindful pace.

But with every step down, the landscape reveals more of its splendor. The canyon walls rise around you, painted in rich hues of orange and brown, sculpted by eons of wind and water. The air grew cooler as we neared the canyon floor, the scent of damp earth and cottonwood trees a welcome change from the dry rim.

Kachina Bridge

Kachina Bridge is a magnificent span in its sheer size and power - it is thick, massive, and humbling. 

The beauty of the canyon floor is a reward in itself, but the true magic of this hike lies a short distance further, nestled beneath an alcove in the canyon wall. A short scramble leads you to the silent, haunting beauty of ancestral Puebloan ruins.

Here, the past feels incredibly close. A fairly well-preserved structure sits silently, a testament to the ingenuity of the people who called this challenging landscape home centuries ago. The canyon walls around the ruins are a gallery of history, covered in intricate petroglyphs and faded paintings of hands, figures, and animals - messages left across time.

This place isn't just about the massive rock arch; it's about the deep connection between geology and human history. It’s always a powerful experience to stand where ancient people lived, especially in a place of such profound natural beauty. The silence of the canyon and the stillness of the ruins converge to create a truly spiritual atmosphere.

Ancestral Puebloan Ruin and Handprints 

Ancestral Puebloan Ruin and Handprints 

Grinding Stones

Ancestral Puebloan Handprints 

The hike back up the canyon wall was a sharp reminder of the effort it takes to access such wonders. But with every step, the memory of the ancient spirits of the ruins fueled our climb.

The hike to Kachina Bridge is more than just a trail; it’s a journey into the heart of the desert’s magic. If you’re willing to put in the work, the rewards - the majestic beauty of the canyon and the timeless whisper of the past - are absolutely worth it.

Stay wild, and keep exploring the hidden corners of the desert.

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My Most Memorable Experience at Natural Bridges National Monument

Several years before hiking Natural Bridges with Rhonda, I spent a few solo nights camping there after a week alone on Cedar Mesa. It felt like a good place to bridge my return to “normal” life. I stopped at the visitor center, chatted with a ranger, and mentioned I wanted to do some hiking in Armstrong Canyon.  After discussing the route he gave me the usual backcountry spiel: bring plenty of water, pack out your trash, pack out your… well… everything.

Then he paused and added, “Although, I just use a rock.”

After a moment of stunned silence I asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “For wiping. You just roll it like this.” He demonstrated the wrist motion like a man proud of his technique. “A rounded piece of sandstone - it’s surprisingly comfortable.”

I filed that bit of advice into a mental drawer labeled Emergency Use Only and headed down into the canyon. The hike was gorgeous - echoing ravens, twisting sandstone, and that sense of solitude you only get miles from anywhere.

About an hour later I heard a loud buzzing around the next bend. It grew into the drone of what sounded like a tiny engine. Then, behind a shrub, a big bobcat stood up over a dead deer - tufted ears tall, gray-and-white coat shining, and a cloud of flies providing the soundtrack. We locked eyes from just a few feet away, which is about thirty feet closer than I prefer to be to a carnivore with fresh food. My heart raced, my legs trembled, and I slowly backed away, retracing my steps with the dignity of someone pretending not to panic.

Only after I’d put a good distance between us did my body decide it was time to “release the tension.” That’s when the second surprise of the day hit me: in all my packing, I hadn’t brought a single square of toilet paper. Not one. All I could hear was the ranger’s voice: “I just use a rock.”

And suddenly… It was my destiny.

To make a long story short: it works. Surprisingly well.

Lesson learned: always listen to park rangers, no matter how weird the advice.