Flash Flooding at Hickman Bridge

My Experience

Under normal circumstances, Hickman Bridge is a nice, easy-going hike to a spectacular natural bridge. That was certainly the case the first time I hiked it in dry weather. With some rainy weather a few days later, I hiked it again at sunrise to hopefully get some nicely lit clouds and maybe even a rainbow, but came up empty. I went back again the next day, and got a lot more than I expected as flash flooding came in from two different locations.

I started out with just enough light to not need a headlamp as I followed the beginning of the trail past a large rocky cliff that sandwiched me between it and the Fremont River. I raced up the most strenuous part of the trail, topping out on a decent sized plateau, tempted to stop and get a few shots of the soft atmospheric light hitting Pectol’s Pyramid. Since I was in a race against sunrise, I passed on it this time.

With my pace now quickened by the relatively flat section of the trail, I shot through the wash the trail passes through, noticing the large, eroded waterpockets that had been carved through to a small cave underneath. As with the previous hikes, I thought to myself how neat it would be to see this feature with water running through it. I continued on and arrived at Hickman Bridge with plenty of time to prepare my ideal shot.

At this point, I headed down below the bridge just before sunrise and began to wait. The weather the last few days had been consistent: cloudy in the morning, but clearing after the sun came up. I was expecting the same thing that day. After just a few minutes, rain drops began to fall. I figured it would just be a quick shower and then would be gone, so I put my rain gear on and waited there a little longer. Then it started to come down heavier.

As the rain began to pick up with intensity, I sought shelter in a small sandstone overhang to keep dry. I waited there for about 15 minutes and rather than letting up, the rain only came down even harder. Then, runoff began to pour into my little shelter, which convinced me to poke my head out and explore other options. I noticed on the other side of the bridge that there was a large and spacious area that was completely dry. Though slightly steep, it looked like it could potentially have a moderately comfortable place to stand. At least I’d be dry. I toyed with the idea of making a run for it, but decided to wait till it let up. Then it started raining even heavier and my shelter, along with me and all my stuff, were about to become drinched, so I grabbed my gear and made a run for it.

Once safely across to the other side, water was lightly running through the wash and under the bridge right next to my steep, but dry shelter. The natural bridge was blocking all the rain in this spot. Now in relative safety, I began to admire the water pouring off the small ledges, and since I had a bit of wiggle room and was staying dry, I decided to make the best of it and get some shots. I set up a shot, clicked the shutter, and in the time it took the camera to take the few-second exposure, the water began to roar with intensity. In seconds, it had gone from a pleasant trickle to a rushing river. I now understood first-hand why it’s called “flash flooding.” It’s literally that quick.

Not knowing how much more would come, I began to back up and give the powerful and muddy stream a little room. As I set up a new shot, I was having trouble getting the entire arch in, so I spotted a spot below, right next to where a small circular pool had formed in a slightly larger rounded-out space that extended up the sandstone cliff behind it. I went down there, tried to get the shot, but noticed it would be better from the other side of the pool.

I walked around and out of my dry zone, though by now the rain had subsided and the skies were starting to clear. I was careful not to slip on the now slick slickrock and set up a shot. I was a split second away from clicking the shutter, peering through the viewfinder, when the sound of something splattering next to me caught my attention. I looked around, and right next to me a waterfall began pouring into the pool that I was on the edge of. My first thought was, “Oh neat. A new waterfall.” My next thought was a little more useful: “Get out, NOW!”

I grabbed my camera and sprinted across the now flooded wash below the bridge to the other side. In seconds, where I was standing had become submerged at the bottom of a flash flood waterfall, pouring an extraordinary amount of water over the cliff near the top of the bridge. I stared back in amazement as the adrenaline rush began to diminish. The water rushing under the bridge moments before paled in comparison to the water shooting off of the cliff. In a flash, the entire wash was flooded once again, much deeper this time. From the other side in safety, I began to get some shots of the flooding. In fact, those with keen eyes may even be able to spot my backpack.

I knew the park had a flash flood warning out, so I had intentionally avoided slot canyons on this particular morning. Fortunately, I was in a relatively wide canyon where it would have taken a substantially larger amount of water to put me in any real jeopardy. At the same time though, this only reinforced how imperative it is to stay away from tight spots when there’s rain forecast in the desert. Always check with a visitor center wherever you’re hiking to make sure you’ll stay safe (aka, alive). I was fortunate enough to learn in relative safety that the water doesn’t come in gradually, it comes in immediately and all at once. Keep that in mind. In a narrower space, the water would have been much higher with nowhere to go.

On my way out, the wash was completely flooded, so while I had some unique scenery with the flooded wash, I had a few tricky spots where my feet got wet trying to get across, since the trail goes through the wash for a short distance.

I wound up getting out safely and spent the rest of the morning shooting some of the temporary waterfalls in Fremont Canyon.

Trail Details

Distance: 1 mile (one way)
Difficulty: Easy
Best time of year: Year-round

From the trailhead, the beginning few-tenths of the trail are the most challenging. After walking along the Fremont River for a short distance, the trail climbs over only a couple tenths of a mile, bringing you up to a small plateau over a short, but steep staircase. There are some pretty great views from where the trail tops out after its climb, including a fantastic view of Pectol’s Pyramid directly to the south. Up the trail a bit farther, a signed fork allows you the option to take the Rim Overlook/Navajo Knobs Trail, or to continue to Hickman Bridge, continue left as indicated.

An easier climb continues as the trail meets up with the wash downstream from the bridge before dropping down into the wash itself. Please do not take any of the side trails that veer out of the wash. Follow the main trail through the sandy wash to avoid trampling any of the fragile vegetation that other people did.

After passing by distinct waterpockets that line the wash on the right, the trail veers slightly to the south to leave the wash. Look for the cairns to help you navigate the proper route. Shortly after, the trail cuts north, marked by a sign that informs you that you’ll be making a small loop through the bridge. As you work your way over slickrock guided by cairns, the first glimpses of Hickman Bridge come into view; a spectacular sandstone bridge spanning over a large gorge. Continue heading toward it via the cairns to get even better views.

Pass under the bridge to get a good sense of its size and majesty, and, if desired, find an interesting vantage point to get a different perspective on it. Once you’ve enjoyed the views, continue on the trail from the west side of the bridge as it heads back south, then east to rejoin the beginning of the short loop. From there, hike out the same way you came in.

To see more images from Hickman Bridge and of the flash flooding, check out my Capitol Reef National Park Gallery here.