Vernal, Utah: Dinosaurs, Ghosts, and a Snake That Tried to End Me

Our stop in Vernal, Utah was supposed to be all about fossils, canyons, and sunshine. Instead, it turned into a mix of dinosaurs, paranormal happenings, and the most terrifying hike of my life.

Welcome to Vernal

The drive into Vernal was gorgeous—rolling red rock landscapes, winding roads, and that wide-open Utah sky. We were excited to explore Flaming Gorge, Dinosaur National Monument, and maybe even relax a little after weeks of bouncing between national parks.

Little did we know… relaxation was not on the itinerary.

The Night the Apple TV Screamed

Our first night at the campground started peacefully enough. We’d set up, had dinner, and called it an early night. Around 3 a.m., though, our Apple TV suddenly blasted to life—full volume, static and sound, like something out of Poltergeist. We both shot out of bed like rockets. Patrick grabbed the remote; I grabbed Piper. The TV eventually went silent, but sleep? Forget it.

The next day, things got even weirder. My parents’ dog, Abby, who we had watched countless times, passed away unexpectedly. It hit hard. Two beloved dogs gone within months—first Indy, now Abby. The energy around us felt heavy, strange, and hard to explain.

When we mentioned this string of odd events to some locals, they just nodded knowingly. “Oh,” one woman said, “you’re near Skinwalker Ranch.”

The Skinwalker Energy

If you’re not familiar, Skinwalker Ranch is about 40 minutes away from Vernal and is infamous for paranormal activity—UFO sightings, shapeshifters, strange lights, you name it. It’s the Utah version of the Bermuda Triangle, but with more cattle mutilations.

That night, after hearing all the stories, our car alarm went off three separate times—at 10 p.m., midnight, and 1 a.m. No one is near the car. Keys hanging inside the RV. Each time, silence outside, then suddenly—HONK HONK HONK.

At this point, I was convinced Vernal had ghosts, aliens, or both. To make things even stranger, we later heard a story about the Utah Field House of Natural History Museum in town. Allegedly, their alarms used to go off every night at precisely 1 a.m. until staff discovered a spiritual rock on display that was never meant to be disturbed. Once they removed it, the nightly alarms stopped.

Needless to say, Vernal had officially entered “weirdest stop on our trip" territory.

Dinosaur National Monument: Wall of Bones

Despite the spooky vibes, we were determined to enjoy the reason we came—the Dinosaur National Monument. The highlight is the Wall of Bones, a massive sandstone cliff embedded with over 1,500 dinosaur fossils still in their original positions.

Standing in front of it is surreal—it’s as if time has frozen mid-extinction. You can literally reach out and touch 150-million-year-old bones from creatures that once ruled the earth. It was both awe-inspiring and humbling at the same time.

There were so many dinosaur bones throughout this national monument!

Trading Post Treasures

After all that ancient history, we wandered into a local trading post, the kind of place that smells like cedar and nostalgia. We found some truly unique “souvenirs” — a Native American peace pipe tomahawk and a wolf jaw knife with an obsidian blade.

I joked with Patrick that we were basically one purchase away from opening our own frontier museum. He, of course, took it very seriously and spent twenty minutes deciding which blade had “better balance.” (Spoiler: they both looked terrifyingly sharp.)

The Snake, the Frog, and the Bird Incident of McConkie Ranch

Then came the day that nearly ended my hiking career.

We headed to McConkie Ranch to hike the Three Kings Trail and see the ancient petroglyphs carved into the cliffs. The area is famous for them—beautiful, mysterious etchings left by ancient people who clearly braved more than I ever would.

Signs everywhere warned of rattlesnakes. And if you know me, you know snakes are my personal nightmare fuel. Still, I put on a brave face (kind of) and followed Patrick down the trail.

About halfway in, I heard rustling to my right and saw a rattlesnake slithering away. My brain short-circuited. I screamed, spun around, and sprinted backward like an Olympic hurdler. Patrick, bless him, calmly went to look and—of course—didn't see a thing.

He convinced me to keep going, and I did, but I was basically hiking in full military alert mode. Every blade of grass became a potential serpent. On the way back, I reached the same area and froze—utterly convinced the snake was waiting for me. Just as I took a cautious step forward, a frog jumped out in front of me.

Cue Round Two of screaming. This time, loud enough that people in the parking lot came running to see if someone was being attacked.

As if that wasn't enough chaos, I stepped forward again and accidentally stepped on a red-winged blackbird. It flew up, smacked Patrick right in the crotch, and chaos erupted. I was hysterical, the bird was flapping, Patrick was doubled over, and I swear even the snake was laughing.

At that point, Patrick just muttered, “Move. Out. Of. The. Way.” and marched to the car. I’m pretty sure he questioned every life decision that led him to that trail.

Here was one of the many petroglyphs we saw on this trail.

Snow Cones & Small-Town Charm

To recover from all that trauma, we found a snow cone stand in town—and became their most loyal customers. They had dozens of flavors and even made fancy combos like coconut-cream “island snow.” We went every single day. Some people do yoga for stress relief—I do snow cones.

Mormon Crickets, Cow Traffic, and Flaming Gorge

On one of our drives, we encountered a massive swarm of Mormon crickets—the road literally moving under us. If you've never seen them, they're like grasshoppers on steroids, and they crunch under your tires (and soul).

A few miles later, a herd of cows refused to move off the road. Thankfully, Piper took charge from the back seat, barking her head off until they cleared a path like she was born to herd. Turns out, she's got a real gift for crowd control.

We also spent time exploring Flaming Gorge, a stunning canyon where red cliffs meet emerald-green water. It’s one of those places that feels otherworldly—peaceful, vibrant, and ancient all at once.

Red Fleet State Park

Our final stop in the area was Red Fleet State Park, named for its distinctive red sandstone formations that resemble a fleet of ships sailing through the desert. The park is small but stunning, with calm blue water framed by fiery red cliffs. It was the perfect way to end our stay—peaceful, sunny, and blissfully uneventful.

Closing Thoughts

Vernal turned out to be one of our strangest and most unforgettable stops—dinosaurs, ghosts, rattlesnakes, UFO energy, and all. Between the Wall of Bones, Skinwalker stories, and snow cone therapy, it was an adventure we’ll be laughing (and slightly shuddering) about for years.