Hailstones Under the Arches: A Cold, Wild Day at Arches National Park

We arrived at Arches on the first day of timed entry for the season, squeezing through the gates just before the 9 a.m. deadline for our ticket. Behind us, a line of confused cars was already pulling over at the sign that read: No entry without reservation. Not exactly a warm welcome—but we had our pass, and we were determined to make the most of it.

We started on a cold, bold uphill march to Delicate Arch. The trail rises over 600 feet in elevation, winding across slickrock and finishing with a narrow 3-foot wide, 600-foot long ledge carved into the rock—sheer drop to one side, no guardrail, and five children in tow. The wind didn’t help, gusting nearly 60 mph as we rounded the final bend into open exposure. But there it was: Delicate Arch, standing tall against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains and icy blue skies. Carolina, who had passionately petitioned to skip the park entirely, hiked every step on her own along with Adeline, Jack and Lorelei. James took some shoulder rides—except when joyfully playing in patches of sand we passed.

Next up was Sand Dune Arch, nestled between towering sandstone fins hundreds of feet high. We squeezed through the narrow passageways and emerged into a hidden arena of soft, fine sand. The red rock walls shaded the whole area, and at 40 degrees, the kids’ cheeks turned pink fast. A kind stranger handed James a bucket and shovel, and he was in his element—digging, building, and scooping until he started to shiver. We bundled him up, and when we got back to the car he promptly fell asleep in his beanie, completely worn out.

Then came Double Arch.

While James napped, we split into two shifts. The first team—Amy, Lorelei, Jack, and Adeline—headed up the trail. Just as they reached the arches, snow began falling. Light at first, then thicker, though it melted on contact. And then came the hail. Actual hailstones. They bounced off heads and jackets, gathering between the rocks and in the sand.  After the trade off on the second trip, Jack and I climbed up beneath the massive double span, while Lorelei showed her better judgement by staying lower—and yep, there was another sheer drop-off on the other side. The kids were champs. No whining, no complaints. Just red faces and wide eyes.

In total, we tackled three hikes, more than six miles, and about four seasons' worth of weather. The rangers, ever efficient, gave us the Junior Ranger badges up front, understanding that this crew wouldn’t have time for a second stop at the Visitor Center. Poky, loyal and alert, sniffed every parking lot and kept a close watch on every tailgate opening—even though he wasn’t allowed on any trails.

We left Arches a little frozen, a lot tired, and totally amazed.

This wasn’t the desert we expected. It was better.