You can run but you can't hide

Feeling pretty discouraged this morning . . . partly rain and partly camera have got me down a bit.  Rain that was forecast to continue at Pagosa convinced us to leave there earlier than planned.  Anticipated jaunts up into the high mountains would involve lots of slimy mud roads, possibly impassible in the Tacoma, followed by lots of slimy mud trails, also possibly impassable, not to mention the danger of lightning - significant up there.

The original plan to visit Chaco Canyon before heading home was also kiboshed because rain was forecast there, also.  Perusing weather maps and forecasts convinced us that Bluff, Utah, a wonderful place under any circumstances would be dry for the duration and a convenient stopover before going home.

Unfortunately, as weather forecasts are wont to be, that one was off, and rain followed us to Bluff.  We got in a day of exploring, and wonderful though it was, overnight rains and thunderstorms threaten our plans to canyon hike.

The death knell came when my camera lens began to malfunction.  The only other I have with me is the long zoom, very little use in these circumstances.  The thought of being in incredible canyon country (or just about anywhere, for that matter) without a camera leaves me feeling lost.  We plan to be in the Bluff area for a couple more days, and the lens seems to function sporadically, so I will continue to try to coax it along, and then there's always the iPhone.  Although it takes good photos, it's not ideal for me because the essential tremor makes it hard to handle.  Oh well, discouraging though it may be, it's not world ending.

Our hasty exit from the damp dank mountains gave us some incredibly colorful vistas.  As we drove through slightly lower elevations, we were treated to hillsides mottled with aspen yellow and oak red and orange in the most perfectly mixed palettes.  It would have been the perfect time to wander back roads, but there was that Wolf Pup following along behind making those wanders impossible.  Oh well, we marveled and exclaimed and continued on, grateful for being given that visual feast.

Return to Sand Island . . .

As the San Juan flows through Utah's canyon country, it is a far cry from its more meager stream at Pagosa.

There is the Sand Island for which this area is named.  Of course water is always a major draw for me, but we were more interested in the nearby prehistoric rock art site.

As we climbed up to the immense panels covered with hundreds of petroglyphs from centuries past, this unusual lemon-hued lizard checked us out before darting back into its hiding place in the brush.

Some of the petroglyphs were created as long ago as 3,000 years.  The señor pointed out how the degree of repatination helps to identify older symbols. 

In the unusual character in the photo below, we can see that the pecked-out sections have darkened patina compared to some of the brighter-hued figures, indicating that it is older.  On these extensive panels, there are images that have repatinated to the point that they are nearly indecipherable.

Is this a representation of lightning or a shorted-out power pole?

What a headdress this one is sporting!  These two are Fremont Culture figures.

 

 

The señor thinks these may be atlatl darts.

A Kokopelli flute player.

The two images below the deer look like spacecrafts to me.

I can't imagine what this geometric design indicates, but it was impressively long - I'm guessing it wound its way up the cliff face for 15 feet at least.

Is this a Fremont culture image of a woman?

This bighorn sheep was huge and interesting, much larger than the many others depicted.  It was in front of and facing the others that were all oriented in one direction.

Stylized figures of Fremont Culture?

When I turned around after admiring the petroglyphs, I saw the wonderful buttes beyond the river's lush growth, and wondered if the many who came there before me were also in awe of that sight.

The search is on . . .

Chris reads . . . and reads . . . and reads.  Some of the things he reads lead to our going off on searches for one thing or another.  There are so many prehistoric sites in that region that you could nearly throw a rock and hit one, but our latest quest was for one in particular, an unnamed obscure cliff dwelling.

With specific but still rather obscure directions in mind, we set off across a massive canyon rim.  Slick rock hiking is fascinating and fun for me.  The convolutions and creases and folds of the rock are beautiful, and I am always amazed at how tenacious vegetation clings to life in such tenuous circumstances.  Wherever there is a tiny pocket that collects a bit of wind-blown soil that is dampened by rain, a seed is drifts down from a breeze or a bird and impossibly takes root.

Runoff is directed to canyon bottoms that often become impassable with thick vegetation.

Because it rained the night before we climbed atop that ridge, there were water pockets everywhere, but one particular pool appeared to be maybe eight feet deep.  It was a bit too cool for a dip; otherwise, I might have tried it out.

Back to those obscure directions: there may or may not have been a prehistoric site below the ridge we were on.  We were assured there was and we were assured that there was an "easy" slope to get down to it, but try as we might, we found nothing that did not appear to be life-threatening to get down there.  It was hard to admit defeat but no matter: we had a lovely trekabout, got a good workout in the process, and no lives were threatened.

Cottonwood . . .

We are at home in the Cottonwood RV park in Bluff, a nice facility with lots of open space and the massive bluffs of Bluff all around us.  Rain has prevented us from enjoying many meals outside, but we dine in the open air whenever possible.  The big drawback here is the dearth of phone and internet service - pretty dang frustrating at time.

 

Those stormy clouds bring rain and sometimes awesome sunsets.  I got a few shots in just before the camera lens ceased functioning . . . that may be world ending!