Journeys

Canyon country

Sand dunes, saguaro cactus, piñon juniper grasslands, snow-capped peaks, mighty rivers, seasonal streams, redrocks, badlands, petrified forests, Hopi mesas - What an incredible state is Arizona! In truth, the list of diverse attributes could go on so much longer; we pretty much have it all.

Our most recent jaunt was to the delightful high country of the White Mountains along the state's eastern border; now we have hied ourselves away to the vast expanses of land stretching across the north and west where the Colorado River and the waterways that flow into it have through millennia carved twisting and tortured canyons whose depth is matched by the sky-reaching rocky escarpments blocking the landscape for mile after mile.

It was an easy partial day drive to our destination near Marble Canyon through much of the Navajo Reservation. We had heard the "res" was closed down tight due to those folks' troubles with the Covid pandemic, but we saw limited places that had reopened for business.

We chose a pullout to enjoy our sandwiches and then realized that it was the road that leads to Clan Rocks, a place we have visited in the far-away past. That happenstance decided us to drive in to view the site once again.

Clan Rocks is an extensive prehistoric rock art site with a specific purpose, as it was explained to Chris by a Hopi friend. In times past, young men of that tribe were initiated into the activity of obtaining needed salt from a deposit within the Grand Canyon. They would come from their homes on the Hopi mesas via Moenkopi to the site we just visited. There they would chip their clan sign into the dark desert varnish of the huge fallen rock slabs on the occasion of their initial journey to the mine. In that way, it differs from other petroglyphs because the clan signs are repeated over and over again. Imagine how many young men stopped there on what must have been a momentous occasion for them!

With that complete, they left the camp site and turned westward down what is known as Salt Trail Canyon into the Grand to complete their task.

The strategic stop on their journey is near a water source. Although it is called Willow Springs, there are now no willows, only Russian olives and a poplar.

Flanking our route along Highway 89, we were enthralled as always by the Echo Cliffs, a massive escarpment that dwarfs the occasional tiny Navajo settlements at its base.

Nearing the far reach of the Echo Cliffs brings into sight the incredible, unimaginably gigantic Vermilion Cliffs rising up to block the horizon ahead. That colossal structure goes on and on into the distance past seeing.

That high abrupt edge of the Paria Plateau varies in colorful hues depending on where along the length, the time of day and atmospheric lighting. I have a feeling that even the mountain's own moods might affect its shade.

Skirting along the base of the Vermilion Cliffs, we discover that we are following a route pioneered in 1776 by two Spaniards - Franciscan priests, Atanasio Dominguez and Silvestre Velez de Escalante - as they endeavored to find an overland way from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to their church's mission in Monterey, California. With a small group, sometimes accompanied by Ute guides, they explored western regions not previously recorded. Although that expedition was unsuccessful in reaching the Pacific coast, their explorations aided the later development of the Old Spanish Trail, a trade route that conveyed many a traveler between Santa Fe and settlements along the western shore.

All land forms in this area are Paul Bunyan-sized, and that includes the House Rock Valley that stretches out conversely to the major uprises at its outskirts. The Paria Plateau is to its north and east; the Kaibab Plateau is off on its western edge, itself dropping off precipitously as the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Our first day of exploration took us through House Rock Valley and along its gradual climb west of the Paria Plateau. Maps told us of a place known for observation of California condors; not knowing what to expect of that, we headed that way.

What we found was a bunch of dedicated folks, volunteers and Peregrine Fund biologists, who were monitoring those gigantic birds that have been re-introduced to that territory. The size of the birds well matches the terrain.

As a happenstance, three more condors had been released just that morning from a cage atop the escarpment, where they had spent several days being acclimated after being bred and raised in various zoological facilities.

The group members were happy to share their passion for saving those endangered vultures. It was interesting enough that I nearly dropped into my previous profession of journalist, wanting to pursue the interviews for more extensive reporting, but prevented such by searching the skies and rocks for those magnificent 10-foot wingspans soaring in the wind uplifts.

Despite that they were about a mile distant, I was able to pick them out with my binoculars, even having six in sight at once. With the monitors' assistance, we saw two of the birds roosting on rocks; because of the distance, we would never have picked them out otherwise.

A person would have to be passionate indeed to pursue that tedious watching and recording for many hours on end.

After a few mis-turns on unmarked dirt roads, we located an Indian ruin known as West Bench Pueblo, located appropriately enough on the west bench of the Paria Plateau. The fine silt on the sign are a perfect indication of the soil color and composition: it is as fine as baby powder with a rusty hue.

The prehistoric site is quite large with an extensive artifact scatter. It has been partially excavated and back-filled.

It provides an exhilarating vantage point over western House Rock Valley. I was curious about the valley's name, so the señor looked it up. He learned the moniker was first applied by John Wesley Powell, Grand Canyon pioneering explorer, and referred to a rock near which they camped.