ESCALANTE, Utah • There’s not a single cloud in the sky. I’m certain of this because my eyes are locked upward as I breathe in all of the expansiveness above while attempting to squeeze through a 10-inch sliver of red ochre–hued rock.

For the past two hours, I’ve been hiking along a loop of three slot canyons hidden beneath the knobby rock formations and green shrubs that unfurl from the Upper Dry Fork Trailhead in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Spooky Gulch, which I’m currently exploring, has been the most entertaining. Here, slender becomes an art form as I wriggle, sidestep and haul myself between, down and over the striated rocks, some of which have linear markings that are so striking it’s hard to believe they haven’t been carved by a master craftsman.

I’m not afraid of confined spaces, so the constricted pathway isn’t scary, just challenging. Until my guide, Neal with Roam Outdoor Adventure Co., and I come across an actual test: a large, rounded rock marked the end of the path. I’ll have to clamber up it and pull myself through some side-lying sandstone to reach the upper level of the canyon and the path out.

I try three times to step on the natural barrier and haul my body upward, but I can’t get a good grip. In the end, I accept a boost from Neal that helps me land one of my feet on top of the uncooperative rock. I stand and maneuver myself into a comfortable spot against the canyon wall.

Like most places in Utah, it took some work to get here from Colorado in the first place: flying to Salt Lake City, then driving nearly five hours to this small ranching town in the south-central part of the state. Early this morning, I’d met up with Neal to drive 50 minutes down the very bumpy Hole-in-the-Rock Road that cuts through the monument’s rugged expanse of sandstone cliffs and prehistoric sites. Neal’s family once had cattle on the land but had to vacate when it was designated to be a place of “historic and scientific interest.”

A gently sloping walk from the trailhead along the easy-to-follow Upper Dry Fork Trail brought us to our first mission: Dry Fork Narrows. At less than a mile, the segment was an ideal introduction to slot canyon hiking because, despite its name, it never tapered into claustrophobia-inducing widths, and the dirt-and-rock floor didn’t require fancy footwork. Plus, a lack of recent rain meant the muddy sections were limited.

As we walked, the sun’s rays painted the sandstone walls purple then rust then orange.

While most people tick off Peek-a-boo Gulch next, Neal took us in a different direction, across a red-dirt wash to Spooky. The change allowed us to avoid some of the crowds that gather at this relatively accessible hiking spot and, conveniently, made our final conquest more about fun than effort.

If you approach Peek-a-boo from the south, you have to pull yourself up 12 feet of rock to reach the entrance — an obstacle we watched a group of sixtysomething hikers tackle with much frustration. By entering the slot canyon from the north, after Spooky, Neal and I were able to enjoy a more downhill route, jumping over rocks and squatting beneath the carved arches. Instead of heaving ourselves up the standard entrance, we simply slid down the rock, laughing at our easy exit.

We’d lucked out with sub-80-degree temperatures during our 5-or-so-mile outing, but I was sweaty and sticky as we walked back to Neal’s car. I restored my energy with a pineapple–mint smoothie and chicken salad sandwich at Escalante Mercantile, a charming natural grocer and deli on the town’s main thoroughfare, followed by a dip in the outdoor pool at my accommodations, Ofland Escalante, a 20-acre glampsite outfitted with custom-designed cabins, tiny cabins and vintage Airstream trailers.

In search of more quintessential Utah, I packed up the next day to drive 70 miles to Torrey. Having lived in Colorado for nearly two decades, I’m familiar with the jaw-dropping beauty of mountain passes. But this was something special. As I crested Utah 12, a scenic byway, I was forced to pull over multiple times.

The lunar-like landscape appeared to extend all the way to the horizon. In contrast stood forest land that, even in early October, was speckled with so much yellow and orange that I felt as though I’d lucked into a second leaf-peeping season.

My destination was Torrey, a gateway town to Capitol Reef National Park. I wouldn’t have time to explore one of the park’s highlights — the high-clearance vehicle-required Cathedral Valley with its Temples of the Sun and of the Moon — so after dropping my bag inside a glamping dome at Skyview Hotel, I went in search of something else that’s hard to find in this Mormon state: alcohol.

Etta Place Cidery sits down the road from the design-forward boutique accommodation. It’s the only licensed bar in Wayne County and the only orchard-based cidery in Utah. And it’s named after Etta Place, a member of the outlaw Sundance Kid’s posse, one of five women allowed inside Butch Cassidy’s hideout.

The tasting room itself had a fugitive feel. The few tables were empty when I arrived midafternoon, so co-owner Ann Torrence gave me a tour of the production space in the back. She started the cidery with her husband, Robert Marc.

“Being the only alcohol producer between Arches National Park and Zion National Park, we feel like we’re getting away with it (just like Etta),” Ann said jokingly.

The couple acquired land in Torrey in 2012 and planted their first 50 cider and heritage apple trees. Now, Torrence blends her homegrown fruit — more than 80 types of apples, peaches, cherries and cider pears — with produce from other regional farms and neighborly drop-offs. When the cider tanks are empty, the couple turns their attention to dessert meads, including an apricot varietal and creative, sessionable blends such as lime-grapefruit.

Tonight, I’ll head to Skyview’s rooftop terrace to gaze up at that expansive sky again, this time in search of stars. (Torrey was named Utah’s first International Dark Sky Community in 2018 and is one of the hosts of the annual Heritage StarFest, taking place Sept. 23-28.) I’ll look at nebulas and galaxies through high-powered telescopes and listen to mythological stories about the constellations spread out above me. But, for now, I’m happy to relax and keep my focus straight ahead, at the towering Velvet Ridge, with a glass of semi-dry Grand Circle cider in hand.