A hot day in Canyonland NP, Utah

 

March 31, 2022

Bozeman, MT

The internet in the last two hotels was very poor, so I can only post now what I wrote yesterday in Idaho Falls, ID.

It's already up at the freezing mark, and the sun is shining from a clear blue sky. Yes, we obviously have come a long way since the last time I wrote: after visiting Canyonland NP on a very hot day on Sunday and Arches NP with pleasant 21 degrees on Monday we left Green River, about an hour from Arches, in the rain yesterday morning. Cloudy skies with intermittent showers stayed with us, and on the long climb up to Soldier's Pass south of Salt Lake City it was only +5 degrees, but by the time we reached SLC it was back to +14, only slightly cooler when we reached Idaho Falls in the evening, our destination for the night.

It was a driving day yesterday, with no break to take a walk, just a few stops to stretch our legs, but we did enough walking/hiking the two days before, and in a gorgeous landscape at that.

Since Canyonland NP is quite spread out and consists of two different parts we decided on the southern part, 'The Needles', which is closer to Blanding, where we stayed the night. It still was about an hour's drive until we reached the turn-off to the park, and another 50 km from there to the visitor centre. Up to the park entrance itself the road leads through open range with Texas gates, and there was ranching even in the park itself into the Seventies. There are no lush pastures here, just the usual small shrubbery, at this point looking pretty dry, too, but the cows we saw seemed quite content, maybe a bit on the skinny side. But of course we have often seen in South America how sparse vegetation can still sustain a herd of cattle. Cows, like other animals and plants, have an amazing ability to adapt to what's available.

Even before reaching the park entrance the landscape is interesting, at times stunning, with high sandstone walls, and hiking trails lead into the hills. We reached the visitor centre at lunchtime, picked up a map and got some hiking tips from the ranger. The visitor office closes at five, but the park is accessible 24 hours. Since we didn't have time to stop at all the view points – not that it would be necessary or even desirable to just check them off a list – we started at the point furthest away from the visitor centre and hiked the Slickrock Trail.

On this trip, finally, I realized that all these years I talked about 'sliprock' when the right term would have been 'slickrock'. My apologies to anybody who read this and knew better. :-) Maybe it was a Freudian slip because I was afraid to slip on the rock? In any case, I still think my name was not totally inappropriate either and descriptive enough, even though usually this smooth rock is great to walk on even on quite a slope: the footing is a lot firmer than on loose sand and gravel. Even if submerged in water, as on entering the first and hottest of the pools at the Arizona hotsprings, this is still true.

The biggest difficulty on this trail would have been to not get lost, but very regularly places small cairns made it easy to find the right way. Walking on slickrock almost the whole way, with just a little up and down, we had stunning views all along the way, gazed into canyons with colourful, many-layered and textured rocks and saw the snow-capped mountains in the distance. It was very hot, 27 degrees when we started and likely warmer during our hike, and there was very little shade, and I struggled a bit with that. For the scenery and the views it couldn't have been any better, though, and a rest at a sheltered picnic spot cooled us down a bit again.

Pothole Point, our next stop, would have been more interesting after a rain. Here, potholes in the rock, like tide pools, are home to a community of small creatures like mollusks and worms who need to make use of the brief time before the water evaporates again to proliferate. Now, the potholes were dry, but of course they are still homes for these small creatures and visitors are asked to avoid stepping in them. Not all heed this, sadly, just like not all stay away from the fragile soil.

Compared to the first two hikes the third led through an almost lush area. On the Cave Creek trail we encountered gambel oak, skunkbrush, rabbitbrush and several other woody shrubs, all possible because of a spring. Water seeps out of the rock in one of several caves facing these bottom lands, enough that it even provides enough moisture for small ferns forming a bright green fringe along the wall. These conditions made this area a favourite place for people: rock etchings (which we missed, somehow), and the smoke-blackened ceilings of the caves indicate that thousands of years ago this was a place of shelter. In another cave we could see remnants of an old cowboy camp. I enjoyed the plants, as always, and also the shadier, a little cooler conditions on this hot day, and even the mention of two ladders by the ranger didn't deter me: after visiting Bandelier NM in New Mexico a few years ago I know that they don't pose an insurmountable obstacle for me. These here were just a couple of metres high, anyway, so no problem at all.

The last stop was very close to the road, aptly called Roadside Ruin. Tired from the heat, we were quite happy that it was only maybe three hundred metres of easy walking to get there. It turned out to be not a ruin at all, but a very well preserved semi-circular small structure attached to the wall of a cave. The assumption is that this was used for storage, possibly a kind of grainary. It was high enough above the bottom of the canyon that filling and emptying it would have required an effort, but not impossible by any means.

At the parking lot for this little hike we met a couple from Victoria, BC, the first Canadians in quite a while, who told us that they had decided to visit Canyonland first and Arches the next day because Arches was so congested that people were being turned away. It hadn't even occurred to us that this could happen: Canyonland was very quiet, and we didn't yet know that Arches is one of the most visited national parks in the US. What would expect us the next day for our planned visit?

No way down: Canyon de Chelly

 

It's Monday morning, the beginning of our last week of this journey, and I'm sitting at the desk of our hotel room here in Moab, Utah, trying to get a start on summarizing the experiences of the last two days. I'm stalling, wondering why. Maybe it is the fact that I read about changing weather - indeed, it is cloudy this morning, for the first time in quite a while -, have been thinking about the way home (not a good idea to do this prematurely, even if, as Rainer Maria Rilke advises in a poem, you should be 'ahead of all parting, as though it were already behind you'). It might also be due to the impressions from the last two days, the immersion in a landscape so magnificent that it is hard to find words to describe it. Nevertheless, I will try and let the photos do much of the talking. 

Two days ago we visited Canyon de Chelly (pronounced d'SHAY) National Monument, whose nearly 84,000 acres lie within the Navajo Reservation and are administered by the National Park Service. It is the home of the Diné, the Navajo people, who have lived here for the past 400 years, the latest in a long line of settlers which started in the archaic period, 2500 – 200 BCE, followed by the Basketmaker people from 200 to 750 CE, the Pueblo from 750 to 1300 and the Hopi, 1300 – 1600, each with their own rich history.

The Diné brought domesticated sheep and goats and planted crops and orchards on the canyon floor, and they farm in the canyon to this day.

We had hoped to do the only hike possible without a guide on our visit, the White House Rock trail which descends nearly 200m to the canyon floor and crosses the Chinle Wash; we'd have been able to view cliff dwellings from there, too. Sadly, however, the trail is closed now, supposedly because of the high number of break-ins into cars parked at the parking lot. Thus, we could only follow the scenic drive and stop at the different lookouts.

We had decided on the South Rim Drive and drove all the way to the furthest point, Spider Rock Overlook. This is one of the most remarkable features of the canyon, an 800' (240m) high sandstone spire that rises from the canyon floor. I can only imagine what it must be like to stand at its foot and look up.

There was very little traffic in the park that day, no crowds at the different view points, which was a nice surprise. There was no rush to make room for somebody else to look into the canyon, and I was happy to let the magic of this gorgeous place sink in.

At Junction and Tsegi Overlooks we had a great view of the canyon floor, saw tilled fields and pastures, corrals and the cottonwood trees that line the banks of the wash, even watched two riders slowly make their way along the trail.

In one of the parking lots a Navajo woman named Darlene Sam had spread out jewellery and some pottery on the hood of her car. She told us that she lived down in the canyon, but because tourists can no longer walk down she is now hiking up and offers her crafts here. I bought a vase depicting symbols from Navajo history and mythology. Darlene was taught by her grandmother and now teaches her own daughter, who, at twelve, has made the beaded bracelets that were part of the display. I learned how the materials found in and on top of the canyon are used in jewellery, medicine and spiritual ceremonies. Juniper berries are used in many of the bracelets and necklaces, in fact, all parts of this plant are highly valued, the branches used to cleanse and purify in ceremonies.

The park, or rather the visitor centre, closes at five, and by that time we had seen as much as we could have hoped for and were on our way north again, to spend the night in Blanding, Utah, a reasonable distance for the drive to Canyonland NP the next day. Once again we changed time zones and are now back in our home time zone, MST. Canyon de Chelly, while still in Arizona, is on Utah time. 

Walking back in time: Petrified Forest NP, AZ

It is a cool, crisp morning here in Blanding, Utah, where we spent the night. We'll soon be on our way to nearby Canyonlands NP.  

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive from Globe to the Petrified Forest NP led through unexpectedly dramatic country. I suppose I should have clued in that this could happen if I'd paid more attention to the mention of Salt River Canyon here and there in brochures of the Globe area, but I didn't, and thus I was totally unprepared for what expected us. From Globe the road rose slowly for a while, the colours of the landscape around stark and beautiful. And then we started the descent into the canyon, in long serpentines, sometimes hairpin curves, through huge spires glowing in many hues of red and brown—no description can do this justice. This is Apache country, and, having grown up in Germany with the books of the German author Karl May, who, never having been on this continent, described the adventures of 'Old Shatterhand' and his Apache friend, Winnetou, I tried to put what I read as a kid together with what I experienced now. While there was no Winnetou, ever, people have lived here for thousands of years, and once again I could only marvel how they survived.

Once we had climbed out of the canyon again and had passed the (obvioulsy very tourist-oriented) town of Show-Low the landscape reverted more and more to the dry, sandy plains we have traversed often here in the southwest. Petrified Forest NP is part of this landscape where erosion has shaped not only the badland mesas and valleys but has also exposed the petrified trees this park is named for, as well as many other fossils, and continues to do so.

When we turned off the highway we stopped at the visitor centre for some information and a map and soon found that this was not the NP visitor centre but one administered by the Navajo Nation. The park is part of their lands. We admired some of the pricey artwork created from petrified wood, among others a huge block that weighed 28,000 lbs.

It is not surprising that security is tight in this park: thefts have occurred, though not as widespread and damaging as rumoured. Shortly after we passed the entry gate flashing lights indicated a road control: we were asked if we could answer a few questions regarding our experience at the gate with the ranger admitting us. I'm not sure what this was about; is there a constant review of these park employees to make sure that they don't aid in possible theft?

Armed with the official map of the park and some tips where best to spend the 2 1/2 hours we had left until the park closed at five (we didn't know this before we came) we were on our way to the first stop.

“Crystal Forest” is probably the area with the most concentrated incidence of petrified logs in the park. Trails connected with the different view points are paved and thus easy to walk, and this one was just over a kilometre long. It is strange and beautiful to see these crystallized logs scattered all over, to think that all of these were once trees, most of them of tropical origin. During the Triassic Period all of this land resided on the supercontinent Pangea, at about the latitude of present-day Costa Rica. When Pangea broke apart, the North American continent moved northward, and over the next several millions of years the Colorado Plateau lifted up by about a mile. This is the reason why it is so arid here now.

This area was once at the edge of a river channel. Fallen trees crisscrossed the channel and some of the adjacent floodplain. Periodic flooding buried some of these trees under layers of silt. Over time, silica-enriched groundwater percolated through the logs and replaced the organic material, creating a replica in quartz. Erosion continued, exposing the now petrified logs. The colours of these logs are of an amazing variety, ranging from white over grey to red, with all kinds of hues in between. This is due to impurities in the quartz: red, orange, yellow and purple indicate iron oxides, black and grey manganese oxides, and white is pure quartz. (I garnered all of these facts from the signs in Crystal Forest)

Following the rangers recommendations we next stopped at Blue Mesa, an area not unlike our Alberta badlands near Drumheller, where we walked the mile-long paved trail.

The last stop, shortly before leaving the park again, was at the northern end, aptly called Painted Desert. The late afternoon light was especially advantageous to view it, though it would have been even more impressive closer to sunset. Since the park closes at five, however, we didn't get to wait that long.

I-40 took us to our night's destination at Chambers, the starting point for yesterday's visit to Canyon de Chelly – which I will talk about after our day's adventures at Canyonlands NP.  

A quick note from Chambers, AZ.

 I'm almost caught up, only yesterday's drive from Globe and a visit to Petrified Forest NP remaining. I might be able to post something tonight. 

After spending the night right beside very busy I-40 in Chambers (though there is no apparent town near and far, just this Day's Inn and a gas station) we'll head north on Hwy. 191 and will visit Canyon de Chelly today. I very much look forward to it! 

Catching up, 4: The Boyce-Thompson Arboretum

 March 23, 2022

We said goodbye to Aaron and Evelyn Tuesday morning and were at Dave and Jan's in Apache Junction overnight. The visit at the Boyce-Thompson Arboretum near Superior yesterday was another highlight. There is not much to say, especially since I wrote about it before, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. 

Catching up, 3: Flatiron hike, Superstition Mountains

 

March 21, 2022

It is ten minutes to seven, and we have just arrived at the parking lot at the foot of the Superstition Mountains. On the short drive from Mesa the temperature dropped from 11 to 7 degrees Celsius, and the trail leading up to the Superstition Wilderness lies in the shade. That's what we had hoped for, and the reason why we started out so early. This hike will be hard enough without having to deal with the heat that will invariably arrive later. Yet the sun has been up for not quite half an hour, and whatever it touches is glowing in a green-golden light. It is a beautiful morning!

After not being able to travel for the past couple of years we are back here for the first time since 2019, and I well remember how difficult it was for me then. I have my doubts that I will make it, but Johann and Aaron are determined, and I will go as far as I can and turn around if necessary. I'd love to stand up on the jutting rock of the Flatiron again, though: I also remember the feeling of accomplishment. This is my second time, Johann's third, and Aaron's fourth time to tackle this trail.

Aaron has looked at the photos from last time and tells us that we were at the 'thumb', a jutting rock we can see from here, at 9 am last time. That will be our first stop where we have a bite to eat. It is easy walking for this first part, the trail climbing slowly, the surface rocky but relatively smooth, and the clean, fresh air makes it a pleasure to walk. Birds are singing everywhere in the shrubbery around us; it is still amazing how many live here, and how varied their songs are. The hillsides are starting to turn yellow from the brittlebush coming into flower. We arrive at the thumb after 40 minutes, at 7:40. Great!

Few hikers are up and about, only a handful besides us, but we meet two people with dogs coming back from a hike already, though certainly not from the top yet.

Bit by bit the trail gets steeper and rockier, and we're putting on the gloves we brought: they will prove invaluable when the really steep and rocky section starts. We take another short break at the foot of the smooth, pretty steep sliprock wall that is one of the amazing features of this hike, and then walk up quite easily. Here, I am not afraid since the footing is firm and the grade is not so steep that I feel I'm not in control. I do remember the next section, though, slippery with gritty dirt and steep; in my memory it was the scariest part of the whole hike. I try the alternate route which Johann took and discouraged me to do because he thought the slippery section was easier, and he was right: I don't think I can safely gain the ridge this way and turn around. Finally I'm up, heart beating, still scared to turn around to see where I just came from, but safe.

We have come about two-thirds of the way at this point, distance-wise at least. Time-wise we are maybe halfway up since the most cumbersome part is yet to come. From here on there are only rocks we have to climb over, and it is steep up the 'Siphon Draw'. Looking for footholds, pulling yourself up and over, looking for the best way up becomes the only focus here. We are still in the shade, and shrubs are growing here in this narrow channel, but cacti as well: one more thing to look out for. Every once in awhile there are even small trees, and here and there their branches or exposed roots are worn smooth from the many hands gripping them for support.

We meet a couple of people coming back from a very early climb. One man tells us that this is his 377^th time 'doing the Flatiron', that he comes two to three times a week. A group passes us (I am slow and stop often to catch my breath), and one of the hikers tells us that we should come on Christmas Eve: then, a father and his sons serve pancakes up on the Flatiron. They bring grills and griddles and batter and even eggs up, and it has become a Christmas Eve tradition for many hikers in the area to come up for a pancake breakfast.

Finally we have arrived at the so-called 'Wall', likely the most difficult part of the hike (though to me no more challenging than the slippery section I traversed earlier). An experienced hiker coming down tells us that there are three ways to climb up, and to her the left side is the easiest (all the way up the recommendation is usually to stay to the left), the right the hardest, done by seasoned hikers, the middle part likely the most used. Here, a tree offers its roots for support. We opt for the middle. Johann goes first, and Aaron comes behind me, and with their advice from above and below I manage to find the right places for feet and hands and am up and over without too much trouble.

Now, it's only a very short while until we reach the top of the draw and climb up onto relatively even ground. How wonderful to have made it! We turn right and walk along the trail to the Flatiron itself and sit on the smooth rocks in the sun, enjoying a snack and the great view. Chipmunks (at least I think that's what they are, cute striped little rodents) check us out, hoping for a morsel, no doubt. They have no problem jumping from rock to rock even close to the edge. A small lizard is stretched out on a boulder, chin resting on the rock, eyes half closed, blinking only rarely: it looks totally relaxed.

We are ready to climb down after this rest, or rather I am, and likely Aaron would be, too. Johann, however, heard the '377 time' man talk about 'the absolute peak, called 'the 5025' on this, the west side of the Superstition Mountains, 'just a bit higher, with a 360˚ view', and knowing about this he cannot just leave. He and Aaron go up, but I stay at the mouth of the draw, sit on a boulder, watch the ravens doing their breakneck flying acrobatics, talk to the odd hiker emerging from the draw or ready to descend.

One woman hiking alone tells me that this is her second hike, and while she thought she'd never do it again she needed to to deal with trauma left from her first hike. Then, she watched a woman fall 80' on her way down the wall. Her foot had got stuck, and a heavy backpack pulled her backwards when she tried to pull it out. 'She bounced two or three times, and if it hadn't been for the backpack she'd likely have broken her back,' she remembers. 'I stayed with her for three hours until the helicopter came.'

The day before friends we visited in an RV park told us that a hiker had fallen 700' to his death when he tried to take a photo. We think we are careful, but accidents still happen. It shows again that you have to remain attentive all the time.

Johann and Aaron return after more than an hour, happy to have been 'at the very top'. They had some trouble finding the trail at one point but made it in the end, and they claim it is indeed the culmination of the hike.

It is nearly one o'clock, and it's time to start the climb down. If we thought we'd be faster on the way back we were mistaken: it takes just as long to pick our way down over the boulders as it did coming up. This time we choose the option to the left (now the right, of course) to come down the Wall, and when we arrive at the part I dread most, the slippery section right above the sliprock wall, we find that there is an easier way around the right here, too, as somebody further up the trail told us. This time my knees aren't shaking when I've reached the sliprock.

To our surprise we find that we've been gone 9 1/2 hours when we reach the car: it is 4:30 pm. Our knees ache, and we don't know yet what else will hurt tomorrow. We so look forward to a 'Beergaritha' and a shower! But what a wonderful experience it has been once again! Asking ourselves now if we'll do this again next year we decide to postpone this question for another week or two.