DESTINATION: UTAH : Monumental Footsteps : Hiking into the wilderness of a new national parkland, Grand Staircase-Escalante, with llamas toting gear and nature guides describing the pristine scenery

Early one morning last June, six people from far-flung places--Sicily, New York, Washington, London and Colorado--gathered in a tiny hotel restaurant here for breakfast and a briefing about the weeklong wilderness adventure that awaited us. Leading the session was one of the owners of a family-run company that takes trekkers into Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, one of America’s most remote and rugged regions, and its newest national monument.

The company, Red Rock ‘n Llamas, is one of a handful of adventure outfitters that makes trips into the American outback more appealing for those of us who find that carrying a 40-pound backpack diminishes the appeal of the great outdoors. As the name suggests, most of the gear--tents, sleeping bags, food, cooking equipment--is transported on sure-footed llamas.

After breakfast, we all packed into an aging sport utility vehicle and followed a trailer full of llamas down Utah Highway 12 toward Upper Escalante’s eastern marker, where our trek would begin.

The evening before, my first glimpse of Boulder at twilight had already suggested that I was about to realize a dream: exploring one of the country’s rare natural wonders that is untouched by mass tourism. The little mountaintop ranching town was one of the last communities in America to be accessible to automobiles, and it still has a frontier feel.

But as we rode out of town and toward the national monument, I was surprised by just how pristine and beautiful Escalante is. As far as the eye can see are sculpted canyons in white, burnt orange, salmon and gold. And there is no sign of civilization anywhere.

At the trail head, we slathered on sunscreen while our guides loaded up nine llamas with provisions for the five-day, four-night outing. Our three guides were each passionate devotees of canyon country. Steve Taylor, the head honcho--and an amateur geologist--has spent 20 years hiking and backpacking in southern Utah and northern Arizona. Linda Roberts is a former Red Rock ‘n Llamas guest who liked the scenery and the llamas so much that she left her life as a landscaper in Vermont to lead tours. And Matt Graham, a Gen X athlete from Huntington Beach, rebelled against suburban sprawl and has immersed himself in the culture of the Anasazi, the ancient people who dwelt here until 800 years ago.

Llamas, it turns out, are delightful traveling companions--gentle, unassuming, cute--and they don’t complain about carrying their fair share of the load. Although it’s true that llamas spit, they do it only at each other, so the only potential danger is getting caught in the cross-fire. I developed somewhat of a connection with Drinian, the llama I led, and. at 16, the oldest of our pack.

Drinian seemed to like me, or so I thought at first. He kept blowing puffs of air into my ear, but what I thought was flirting turned out to be him exhaling as he nibbled plants that were closest to his mouth as I led him by leash.

We went north along the Escalante River, generally considered the last major river to be discovered in the contiguous United States. The area’s treacherous series of canyons has been so forbidding that it remains untouched by developers and gloriously free of the souvenir shops and fast-food restaurants that mar so many of America’s natural treasures. President Clinton named it a national monument in 1996, and many local ranchers still complain that the government usurped their grazing area. Most of the 1.7 million acres that make up the monument are accessible to hikers, but almost all of the routes are unmarked. Commercial tour companies must obtain federal permits and adhere to strict usage rules.

Not much more than an hour into the hike, the guides tied up the llamas and suggested that we take a break in the shade of some large cottonwood trees. I had a flash of worry that the hiking pace would be too easy, but then realized the real reason for our early stop: a rust-colored rock with ancient etchings on it.

These first petroglyphs of the trip gave us a clue that our trek would provide more than just exercise and beautiful scenery. It would be an introduction to the fascinating world of the Anasazi, a tribe that was scattered around the Southwest from as early as AD 200 until sometime between the 12th and 14th centuries, when they abruptly vanished. Researchers speculate that a prolonged drought may have been responsible for their disappearance. The petroglyphs, pictures pecked into the desert-varnished sandstone by these ancient inhabitants, provide hints about their lives and beliefs. One picture was a human figure with a snake-like figure protruding from its head. It was surrounded by several concentric circles, which the Anasazi believed symbolized access to the other world.

We spent much of the first day walking past fragrant sagebrush and wildflowers. Our trail crisscrossed the Escalante River so many times that walking through water became second nature. Due to the heat in the southern Utah desert in June, when temperatures can reach the high 90s, the Upper Escalante River itinerary involves lots of hiking down streams in the shade of narrow, high-walled canyons. (Some of Red Rock ‘n Llama’s autumn trips spend more time in higher regions because shade is not such a necessity.)

My fellow sojourners included Tom and Denise, a Navy pilot and his geologist wife; Renata and Horst, German retirees who live in London; and David, a writer from New York. The sloshing of our collective feet made our progress noisier, but the cooling effect of the water was well worth it. After our first day’s lunch--salmon salad sandwiches, chips and chocolate cookies--a thunder and lightning storm followed us as we hiked, dazzling us with dramatic bolts and deep grumbles. The sky cleared by midafternoon as we turned into a narrow side canyon called Death Hollow, where we walked right through the stream on a solid bedrock bottom.

It soon became apparent that we had entered a more verdant ecosystem. Our guides pointed out two plants that showed the pros and cons of our new world: a delicate miniature wild orchid and a lot of healthy poison ivy. We made camp under a large, crescent-shaped alcove. The guides set up the kitchen and treated us to a sumptuous trout dinner.

After a pancake breakfast the next morning, we headed out to explore. A highlight of the day was a deep swimming hole, reached at the peak of the midday heat, where we overheated hikers outdid each other diving in.

Back on the trail, Linda and Matt pointed out a wide array of wildflowers--scarlet gilia, delicate white sand verbena, claret cup cactus--and shrubbery like the squaw bush, which has berries that can be used to make a tangy lemonade-like drink.

Eventually we reached a dead end at a spectacular spot called a pour-off, where canyon walls stretch 200 feet up and where water pours from above into the creek below during heavy rains. (The guides warned us that flash floods can be very dangerous in canyons like theses. They advised that in case of a flood, we should climb to higher ground or, in a worst-case scenario, point our feet out in front of us to fend off rocks if we were swept up.)

During a break, Linda took advantage of the natural acoustics of the canyon walls and serenaded us with her recorder, while Matt demonstrated how to take off the outer leaves of cattail plants and chew on the stalk, which has a refreshing, celery-like flavor.

Each of the guides added something special to the trip. Steve told us about the geology and history of the region, and coaxed those of us who were interested in clocking a lot of miles to slow down and experience the wilderness instead of rushing through it. Linda, in addition to her music skills, delighted wannabe botanists with a description of how hawk moths pollinate delicate evening primroses.

But the guide who really captured our interest was Matt, an endurance athlete who tries to emulate the Anasazi way of life, down to the handmade sandals he wore when he wasn’t barefoot.

On our third day, we rejoined the Escalante River and hiked behind Steve up to the rim of the canyon. After two days of hiking through somewhat claustrophobic narrow canyons, the dramatic multihued vistas from the rim were energizing. Our destination was a series of pour-off pools, and some of us took a dip while others scampered around the pitched sandstone surfaces.

Sand Creek Canyon was the least hospitable Escalante River side canyon that we explored. The hiking was harder because the rocks were too slick for us to walk in the stream, and the paths along the banks were so overgrown that we had to walk right through the scratchy brush.

Our guides were determined not to leave any sign of our visit behind. For toilets, pits were dug deep into the sand and covered up before our departure. We picked up every piece of trash. And, following Steve’s ethic of leaving no sign of our presence, we did not build any fires. Until the last night.

It was then that, after a bit of coaxing by the guests, Steve agreed to let Matt build us a fire the Anasazi way. Matt went off in the dark and gathered the makings for his fire magic: sagebrush; plant bark; a tamarisk twig and a leather string; a cow ankle bone (found earlier in the trip); and a little ear wax to smooth the spinning of a complex but primeval contraption.

We watched in awe as Matt adroitly produced sparks, dropped them into the sagebrush and blew gently to create a flame. Each of us had a little more respect for the Anasazi, and a lot more for Matt.

On our last morning, as we packed up for the 3.5-mile hike back to civilization, a lone backpacker wandered through our camp. He was the first human being our group had encountered during the entire five-day trek. In fact, it was a day chock-full of sites. We saw remnants of a pioneer road that Steve said the Mormon Church had built to fulfill a promise of sending a piano to Boulder. We came upon the most elaborate Anasazi etchings of our journey, with human forms and bear claws (not to mention graffiti from pioneers and modern-day visitors). And then we saw the geographic highlight of the day, the magnificent Escalante Natural Bridge, a 130-foot-high, 100-foot-long arch formed over the ages by a meandering stream.

I felt my feet start to drag as we neared the end of the hike. I was reluctant to close my adventure in wondrous Escalante, but glad to chug the cold beer that awaited at the end of the trail, and eager for the hot shower to follow.

Elizabeth Shogren is a reporter in The Times’ Washington bureau.

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GUIDEBOOK

Trekking With Furry Friends

Getting there: Llama trips set out from the small town of Boulder, Utah, a six-hour drive east from Las Vegas. Southwest, Delta, United, American, Northwest, America West, Reno and National airlines fly nonstop from LAX to Las Vegas; fares begin at $68. From Las Vegas, take I-15 north to Cedar City, Utah, then Route 14 west to Route 89. Drive north on Route 89 for 21 miles to Route 12, and drive past Bryce National Park through Escalante and on into Boulder.

You can also reach Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument from Salt Lake City, five hours by car. Take I-15 south to I-70 west; then drive south on state Route 24 to Capitol Reef National Park and turn onto Route 12 south to Boulder.

Grand Staircase-Escalante treks: Red Rock ‘n Llamas, P.O. Box 1304, Boulder, UT 84716, telephone (435) 559-7325, Internet https://www.gorp .com/redrock, is the only outfitter with llamas. There are several trips remaining this season, and custom trips are offered.

Escalante Canyon Outfitters, P.O. Box 1330, Boulder, UT 84716, tel. (435) 335-7311, Internet https:// www.gorp.com/escalante, offers hiking trips with horses carrying gear. Four- to six-day trips are $695 to $990 per person.

For information: Escalante Interagency Visitor and Information Center, 755 W. Main St., Escalante, UT 84726; tel. (435) 826- 5499. Utah Travel Council, 300 N. State St., Salt Lake City, UT 84114; tel. (800) UTAH FUN, fax (801) 538-1399, Internet https:// www.utah.com.