Cosmic Ashtray: The Strangest Sand Pit in Utah

In a land already renowned for its surreal, sculpted wilderness, one formation dares to defy imagination itself—Cosmic Ashtray. Tucked away in the rugged expanse of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, this geological marvel feels less like a place on Earth and more like the remnant of some ancient, cosmic event. Hikers who dare to reach it are rewarded with a sight that borders on the impossible—an 80-foot-deep, 100-foot-wide basin filled with vibrant, burnt-orange sand, cradled by a cluster of smooth, white domes. The contrast is staggering, as if a colossal ember from the heavens scorched the ground and left behind an alien crater, untouched by time.

Words falter in the presence of such grandeur—"otherworldly" is an understatement, and "photos don't do it justice" barely scratches the surface. To stand at the edge of this monumental pit is to feel dwarfed by forces far older and more powerful than human comprehension. It is not just a destination—it is an encounter with the primordial soul of the Earth.

Cosmic Ashtray, known by many names—The Volcano, Galactic Navel, Inselberg Pit—is as elusive as it is mesmerizing. There are two known approaches to this natural wonder: one from BLM 103/Spencer Flat Road and another from Hole-in-the-Rock Road. Both routes are as unforgiving as the landscape they traverse—scorched, shadeless, and devoid of mercy.

Navigating to Cosmic Ashtray is not for the novice—trail markers are sparse and the labyrinthine slickrock can swallow even the most seasoned adventurers. Those who dare to undertake this journey are strongly advised to download a trail map beforehand and prepare for the relentless exposure, for the sun shows no mercy here.

But for those who make it, the reward is staggering—a glimpse into a world shaped by the wild and unpredictable hand of time, where sandstone giants and swirling sands guard the secrets of the Earth’s ancient past. Cosmic Ashtray is more than just a sight—it is an experience that etches itself into the soul, a vision that lingers long after you’ve left it behind.

Trailhead elevation 5,770'

Water none

Don't miss climbing down into Cosmic Ashtray via Moqui steps

Hiking to Cosmic Ashtray

It's late March, and I find myself two days deep into a relentless journey—an epic week-and-a-half odyssey through some of Utah’s most untamed wilderness. Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, the San Rafael Swell, and The Needles are etched into my map, but it’s the land itself that etches itself into my soul.

Sunday morning dawns like a promise whispered across the slickrock, and I set out to hike Peek-A-Boo and Spooky Slot Canyons. These narrow, winding cathedrals of stone swallow me whole, only to spit me out hours later, humbled and hungry. As the day presses on, I prepare for my next adventure—backpacking Cosmic Ashtray.

There are two approaches to this ancient, windswept anomaly—one from the south via Hole-in-the-Rock Road, and one from the north via BLM 103/Spencer Flat Road. I’ve danced with the southern approach before, its coarse embrace still vivid in my memory. This time, I gamble on the northern approach—a road less taken, a new story waiting to be written.

The drive down BLM 103 is nothing short of cinematic—towering spires claw at the sky, golden domes shimmer in the midday sun, and crimson-striped ridges loom like ancient sentinels, guarding the secrets of this primordial landscape. The road itself rumbles under my tires, a washboarded artery cutting through the vast solitude.

I spot a few campsites—wild, raw, and breathtaking—before the road finally dies at a sprawling trailhead, where adventure beckons. My pack is light, stripped to the essentials, but it feels heavy with the weight of expectation. My drone rests securely, a mechanical falcon eager to take to the skies. I step forward, one deliberate stride into the unknown.

The trail tests me immediately—deep sand shifts treacherously beneath my feet, then hardens into compact terrain. I navigate pockets of slickrock that quicken my pace, only for the sand to drag me back into a grudging crawl. A vast ridge stained with pink and crimson hues looms to the south, while the Henry Mountains brood far to the east.

At last, the slickrock takes over completely—smooth, unyielding, and unforgiving. The climb intensifies, the land rising and falling like the breathing of some dormant giant. The wind tears at me, fierce and biting, but it’s the emptiness that cuts deeper—an endless, shadeless void where rock cairns are scarce and guidance feels like a fleeting dream. Had I not downloaded the route to my phone, I would be but a speck, lost in the belly of this sandstone expanse.

An hour in, I pause—parched and weary—and my eyes catch a glint below. A shallow depression cradles a gathering of Moqui marbles—small, iron-coated spheres born from centuries of natural alchemy. I kneel, tracing their smooth, fascinating forms with reverent fingers, before rising and moving on—driven by the pull of something ancient calling me forward.

At mile 3.5, I round a vast, white sandstone dome, and there it is—a vision so magnificent and monstrous that I nearly stagger. Cosmic Ashtray—its eastern wall erupting from the ground like the spine of some colossal beast, its vast, gaping maw agape in eternal wonder. My pulse quickens, and I trudge on, drawn like a moth to a flame, desperate to stand at its edge.

Finally, after one last ascent, I reach the saddle—a narrow gap where the sand pit yawns below, impossibly large, like a crater carved by a meteor sent from the gods. I drop my pack, drinking in the scene with unblinking eyes, and the sheer scale of it robs me of breath. It is a place that defies reason—a monument to time, wind, and unimaginable force.

After minutes that stretch like hours, I gather my courage and descend. Moqui steps carved into the stone guide me into the pit—a careful, nerve-wracking dance down the slick slope.

When I finally reach the sandy floor, I dare not disturb its pristine ripples. I trace the perimeter instead, shadowing the walls, respecting the sanctity of this place where nature itself seems to hold its breath.

Evening settles in like a weary traveler, and I share stories with a Danish couple on their honeymoon—two souls equally enthralled by the raw, unapologetic grandeur. After they move on, I release my drone into the sky, capturing shots from multiple angles—an attempt to bottle the essence of a landscape that defies being captured.

As darkness falls, I sit in silence, staring at the central formation—Prometheus, I think to myself. The formation looks just like the helmets that the engineers wore in the movie Prometheus!

The sun bleeds its last light over the eastern wall, and the temperature plummets, bitter and unforgiving. I pitch my tent on a small patch of flat ground, cocooning myself from the night and drifting into sleep—knowing I have walked the line between man and wilderness, and wilderness has whispered its secrets in return.

The wind howled like a ravenous beast throughout the night, clawing at my tent with icy fingers as the temperature plummeted into the unforgiving teens. Sleep was fleeting—a fitful dance with the cold that seeped through every fiber of my being.

At last, around 7:00, I stirred from restless slumber, knowing the time had come to face the bitter morning. I unzipped the door, and the frigid air surged in like a tidal wave, mercilessly devouring the remnants of warmth I had fought so hard to preserve. My breath hung in the air like ghostly wisps as I peered out, and there it was—the sun, triumphant over the horizon, casting its golden light upon the towering western wall of Cosmic Ashtray. The behemoth stood bathed in morning fire, fierce and unyielding—a final, breathtaking glimpse of nature’s unimaginable power.

I sat for a moment longer, letting the scene etch itself into my memory, before I tore myself away and began packing my gear—slowly, almost reverently, as if leaving too abruptly would break some unspoken vow with the land.

With my pack secured and my soul heavier than when I arrived, I took one last glance at the colossal formation—a masterpiece shaped by time, chaos, and unimaginable force. Then, with the wind still howling like a mournful lament behind me, I set off into the wilderness once more, carrying the memory like a brand upon my spirit.