Sedona is a geographic accident that offers the most striking AND lowest-effort nature selfies.
Which means it mostly draws Instagram-mers in vibrant dresses (selected to offset the red of the rocks, of course)– and their beleaguered boyfriends to the area, with multiple cameras stowed in backpacks. And also draws groups of mid-30s or mid-50s ladies wearing T-shirts that read: “Girls’ Weekend!”.
And look, everyone’s got their something– no judgment, but neither of those are My Thing.
The last time I was in Sedona, it was (thankfully) in the pre-Instagram years. I had remembered it as a charming mountain town with lots of hippie energy, gem shops, and very good local food. This apparently was not a figment of my past imagination, but a place that USED to exist before Mark Zukerberg tossed a billion dollars onto a table and bought up a competitor of his.
Sedona has a reputation for being beautiful– and it should. It’s set in one of the most striking valleys I’ve ever seen, with red rock formations towering over the town. And because the town is nestled right in this gorgeous natural landscape, one doesn’t have to go far at all to grab a selfie in a spot that makes it LOOK like you exerted yourself to get there: just hop on a shuttle for a mile or two, and you’ve got a great photo without ever going past the trailhead.
All that to say– I spent all of my time in Sedona getting as far OUT of Sedona as possible.
When I rolled into town, a fresh snow had just fallen (it would disappear by mid-day). It made the drive from Flagstaff a little more than treacherous in the early morning– I saw more than a few stranded vehicles, but my 4×4 and Low Range came in clutch. During my stay in Sedona, the winter season was just ending, and spring just beginning– though the nights were still ridiculously cold.
The time I spent in town was often eating at ChocolaTree before or after a hike– described as a vegetarian “oasis”– this place retained all of the hippie charm of Sedona of yesteryear. Herbal teas, plastic-free products for sale, and lots of hemp boosters, as well as fresh juices and tonics and tincures? Check. This place always had a busy patio (even on blustery days)– peace flags flying above the dining area in the stiff winter breeze. The buckwheat pancakes and lentil stew were two of my favorites– absolutely delicious, and good hiking fuel.
I’d gotten a hiking tip from a fellow traveler that Robber’s Roost was a fantastic (and fairly easy) hike outside of Sedona. Needing a 4-Wheel Drive vehicle to get there (on long and sometimes unpredictable dirt road) meant crowds were reportedly much lesser– an opportunity I jumped on. (The trailheads closer to Sedona could fill up by 8 AM and the popular trails became zoos).
After a day of working, I hoped to decompress a bit on the trail, and made my way down the dirt roads across and into the desert landscape. I loved the feeling of getting off-road again, and heading to trailheads where only modded trucks, vans, and SUVs could go. I even saw a dune buggy or two at the beginning of this trail.
The hike was very exposed– and windy, as it ran along a bluff. While it was a short hike, the dry wind made me thrilled I had brought an abundance of water, out of caution. The views on the hike in were varied– in one direction, dry grassland, and in the other– a rocky cliff range– another still, a strange mound of orange earth and rock the hike would eventually wrap around.
The payoff of this hike was a cliff that cut into the back of the odd bright-earth mound– as the path came around a bend, I saw people lounging at the mouth of a cave: this was the Robber’s Roost (the hike name made more sense now).
(You can see the people in the picture below for scale).
Mac and I were eager to get out of the sun for a minute, so we popped into the cave for a rest. The view was just exquisite– the rocky range in the distance was just getting its evening color. The brushlands leading out seemed to extend forever, and the cave felt cool and comfortable. I wished I had thought to bring a can of ‘trail beer’ in my pack.
Mac and I stayed for awhile to admire the view and watch the shadows lengthen a little before descending back to the van.
This was my favorite of the hikes I did in Sedona– the rule of hiking in Sedona is to be early, especially on popular trailheads. And the most popular trailhead of all? Cathedral Rock.
Get there plenty early– if you linger at the payoff, you’ll be in a crowd of hundreds by 9 AM. There’s two ways to access Cathedral Rock– straight from a parking lot a quarter-mile, or by connecting from other trails that approach from miles away. I recommend doing the Baldwin Trail as the start, as it was far more peaceful way to come at this famed hike.
The most serene part of this hike was the beginning– snaking along a river, which supported a huge and powerful cottonwood grove. The cottonwoods reached high and mighty, and Mac put his toes into the water to feel the current. Where the water was still, the reflections of the trees were crystal clear.
The payoff of this hike was– you guessed it– Cathedral Rock– a rock formation that IS beautiful (but frankly, if you’ve spent a good amount of time in Utah, is not super remarkable). I enjoyed this hike less for the rock view, but more for the valley view across to the other side.
If you are ever in Sedona, look up into the skies. Particularly in the early morning, hot air balloons make their way slowly across the morning air. They really do FLOAT– lifting gracefully and slowly, and on the very cloudy morning I saw them, they looked almost black silhouetted against the bright white clouds.
You may be wondering if I took a ride in one– no, I’m not a heights person. And dangling from a balloon in a basket feels unsafe to me somehow, accordingly. Perhaps Sedona was out to vindicate my way of thinking– because one day, I saw a balloon gently DEscending instead of AScending.
The operator fired the flame again and again, but achieved no rise. This balloon was falling– not fast, but nonetheless, it was definitely coming down. I could see that it would not land far from me, so I took off running in that direction, and saw the balloon operator bring the balloon down gently… in the middle of a dirt road. It bumped down, but somehow– not uncomfortably.
The passengers looked very rattled, stunned and stuffed in their basket– and I silently swore off ever riding in a hot air balloon for any reason! The picture to the left is the balloon where it landed.
Sedona has a famed point to watch the sunset: Airport Mesa Road contains a pulloff and parking lot en route to the regional airport. The idea is to watch the red rocks turn even redder as the sun sets– a phenomenon which depends on the angle of the sun, the clouds, and the conditions all cooperating.
I didn’t exactly get a blazing red sunset that night, but I did get to see the clouds lay some beautiful shadows on the rock faces– and I captured some orange-ish hues.
I left Sedona the next morning, still in awe of the beauty of the red-rocked valley, but also knowing how very much it had changed over the years I was away. The congestion in town meant to do anything, or go anywhere, or eat at a restaurant, was a chore that could feel stressful and over-touristed rather than serene.
I had previously thought of Sedona as a natural escape– a small town with good hiking that was grounded and easygoing– but perfect Instagram photos and tags had seemed to convert it into a bustling tourist mecca instead. Given all the great hiking in Arizona (and New Mexico), in much less crowded areas– I knew I wouldn’t find a good reason to return to Sedona again.
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