Canyonlands
July 25-27, 2009

Troglodytes, Moab . . .
Driving down the road - despite Chris’ usual silent traveling mode, he immediately turns into Chatty Cathy the minute I open the computer to write. He just finished a book I got for him at a yard sale and wants to relate it all to me. I’m happy he’s finished it because it was a real nose sticker. It was “Nothing like it in the world" by Stephen Ambrose, turned out to be an excellent history of the railroad in America although he said it lacked some cohesiveness and had one major historical mistake regarding codes during the Civil War. They should have had me to edit it, eh what?

Moab is an interesting little place, put on the map by the uranium mining boom of the 50s, and remaining viable evidently because of tourism - lots of Colorado and Green river expeditions and red rock tours. Our park, Spanish Trail RV Park, looks out on the LaSal (don’t look at me; I didn’t tell them to spell it that way) Mountains with a peak nearly 13,000 feet, and surrounded by Utah-red cliffs. There are some other RV parks here right on the river, which I will choose for next stay if it’s in the summertime. This one is very nicely kept, though, just a bit far out of town and away from the river and other attractions, also more exposed, perfect for a wintertime stay.

After driving all day (okay, only five hours) to get here, Chris immediately wanted to get back in the truck to go for a drive. Reluctantly, I agreed and of course we had a great explore along the Colorado up to where Kane Creek comes in.

There was a super rock art site, Moonflower Canyon, with an interesting feature: it showed a number of upside-down figures. Did these folks have a higher-than-usual incidence of unfortunate missteps up top?

A second unusual feature was logs placed inside a rock crevice, notched for stepping, worn smooth by use and arranged to allow access to the higher reaches (you wouldn’t catch me climbing up there, though, lest I be memorialized too). It reminded me a bit of Crack in Rock, the backcountry of Wupatki National Monument we backpacked into with Barb and Bud. That one didn’t utilize log ladders, but the feel would be about the same upon being “born” onto the topmost level after scrambling up inside the crevice.

While in the Kane Creek area, I had a real deja vu experience that I may have finally figured out. There is a series of some very odd domiciles - cave dwellers. These troglodytes have carved out huge caverns in the cliff face and are living in them. Some have nothing across the entrance, just a gigantic opening like one I saw with a fence and gate that proclaimed “private residence”.

The most elaborate cave dwelling we spied had a traditional house front built onto it.

For some reason, this all seemed familiar although I’ve never been here. Perhaps I read an article and saw photos somewhere?















Arches . . .
Arches National Park was next on our agenda, so bright and early (well, not very), we anticipated the exposed heat of the day and slathered on sun screen, filled water bottles, packed sun hats and headed off. Into the park for a few miles, (I love that Golden Age pass or whatever they call it now; they even let Chris in for free with his more mature mate. I remember when Dad first got his. It seemed to me that he was way up in years at the time) we begin to understand that the rain we couldn’t even see when we left home is not stopping any time soon and our rain gear was back in the trailer. What a waste of sun screen, also time. Out of the park we go, back through Moab, out to the RV park to pick up garments to keep us dry, back to the park where the entrance attendant cleverly states, “You’re back again.” We agree and go on our way.

We are surely getting in our share of walking. We hike out to every arch, every trail and some off-trail hiking. It would be a shame to miss anything as long as we’re here, and we’ve gotten perfect weather for seeing it all. In addition to the incredible views created by distant (and close) falling rain, clouds and mists, the temperature has dropped about 15 degrees and stays that way until late in the day. It was quite a treat while in the Park to see usually dry washes running flash floods and waterfalls off the faces of monoliths.

I take photos in a vain attempt to convey the majesty of what I am seeing, and find it no more satisfactory than using language for the same purpose. I suppose I shall have to leave Utah soon: I’m running out of adjectives. I photographed the smaller arches we saw in the beginning. By the time I got to later, more gargantuan structures, I was overwhelmed. The last one I shot was the massive double arch. In my picture, it looks like a little tiny unusual but otherwise uninteresting geologic shape when in reality, it is humongous.




I did get a nice shot of Chris helping balancing rock.


















One of Chris’ pics of me in a smaller arch gives a bit of perspective.

















As in most of the others, we climbed up onto the bottom side of the double arch, this being more of a struggle than others. Then we saw that there was one last fin of rock to surmount before one could catch the view out the other side. It was one of those deals that I look at, know I will be sorry, and do it anyway. These climbs I get myself into are scary going up, but terrifying on the way down. That’s when Chris goes ahead of me so that if I fall, I can squash him, too. Just save the bird book - that’s all I ask.





Canyonlands, birds, tamarisk . . .
Monday morning found us doing yet another jaunt - this time to Canyonlands National Park. Quite a different feel here: fewer people (possibly attributed to the weekday but I suspect it is less visited), different geology sliced into unbelievable convolutions and monuments resulting in even more vastness, deeper rock color shades and much more stratified.

A really amazing place, my favorite in Utah (oh yes, except for Zion and Natural Bridges National Monument). It’s kinda like pie: whichever I’m eating at the time is my favorite. We did Bridges years ago with the kids. I so loved hiking barefoot to cliff dwellings in the bottom of canyons with small sandy streams.)
































One stop here brought us to yet another arch, one that obviously found itself in the wrong national park. This one was fairly small and short; however, it stuck out over an abyss so deep one could not see the bottom. Along comes this little hippie chick with hair that hadn’t seen shampoo nor brush since she left home, hikes up her little airy fairy skirt, trips (a euphemism only) out onto the arch and does a cartwheel while her beau photographs her. Scene moves to me - afraid to attempt a cartwheel in my own back yard, much less in a place in which I could go careening out into space. The thought will undoubtedly cause nightmares.

One little mishap when I stepped onto a sloped sandy slickrock and went down onto my knees. Jarred me some, but a bit of reiki before proceeding and I was right as rain except that I look like I fell off my bike and skinned my knees. Thank heaven I wasn't up there with the hippie chick when I slipped.




Today we ate lunch hunkered under a scrubby juniper for shade, sitting on the rim in awe at the scene before us.

Near there, I spotted an unusual, and to us unexplainable, atmospheric sight - a light blue stripe in front of a cloud. I’m including in my blog a photo of that and several from Canyonlands just because they’re totally cool. Maybe someone will tell me what the stripe is.

At the last place we stopped and hiked to, I heard the strangest noise, mysteriously unidentifiable. Shortly, we saw the source: white-throated swifts were zipping past us as fast as if a sword were slashing through the air.

Other birds we’ve gotten recently include house finches that finally found our seed feeder, house sparrow, Say’s Phoebe, lark sparrow, blue-gray gnatcatcher, rufous and black-chinned hummingbirds.

We have noticed since we’ve been here that most of the tamarisk in the watercourses is dead, but the surrounding vegetation appears healthy. If they were spraying the tamarisk, how then would it not affect other plants? Chris discovered from a ranger that they have imported a beetle (she thinks from Egypt) that kills only tamarisk. It’s obviously doing the job over vast areas. We shall hope it doesn’t have some unknown disastrous affect like many other highly touted imports.

On our way out to Canyonlands, we could see the Henry Mountains off in the distance. It was the last mountain range in the lower 48 states to be named and explored. So I learned from my encyclopedic partner (and so much more).

I’m getting some wonderful stories back from folks reading my blog/trog - thanks for reciprocating! Just remember, I also want the news from you all and from back home.