Humanity, rivers, pintado

Yes, experiencing new locales and exploring whatever is to be found wherever we venture lures me on; however, once we are there, it is the people we encounter that make the biggest impact.  It varies from place to place, depending on the circumstances: sometimes we don't make many connections, and other times it is people central.

Vernal was one of the latter.  We were privileged to get to know folks in the RV park, on the river, and just out and about.  As we prepared to depart, I encountered the sweetest family that I wish I could have gotten to know, but I did stop for a quick chat and photo.  Zack was outside cooking breakfast on a unique set-up, which is what caught my attention.  A propane cooking grill attached to the trailer sidewall along with a handy table were one of the selling points for them to purchase that particular RV, their first.  I thought it was the cleverest set-up.  The joke's on me; I've forgotten the trailer model.  Oh well, I'm not on commission for their sales.

At any rate, Zack, Carissa & Nora allowed me to photograph them in their native habitat, so to speak.  A shame that a spoon is in front of the baby's face.

 

 

That was a brief encounter indeed; others were more in depth, such as Bob & Mary, with whom we shared several happy hours and expect to connect with back home because they are full-timers right now but prepared to settle back into Phoenix, whence they came.  Surprisingly enough, Mary & I attended the same high school and had the same favorite never-to-be forgotten English teacher, Don Engelbrecht.

 

Glendale residents out for their three-month summer RV adventure Lynn & Ron were others with whom we connected very compatibly.  Both she & I felt sure we had met previously, but we never discovered when or where that might have occurred.  At any rate, we will certainly be getting together with both couples in the future.  

 

Lynn & Ron attended the Vernal movie theater to watch "Elvis", which encouraged us to rush off one evening to do the same.  I had fully intended to view that flick; I was even more amazed than I could have imagined after I experienced Austin Butler's portrayal of the King of Rock & Roll.  It was one of the most intense acting roles I've ever seen: he became Elvis without a doubt.  And I am privileged to have grown up with his grandparents and even knew his great grandfather (how old am I anyway?!).  A wonderful family who must be incredibly proud of their super star progeny.

Another we totally enjoyed visiting with was Blake, the RV park owner.  What an energetic outgoing individual he is - and very helpful with advice about the region.  

Rafting the Green . . .

Although not on our original agenda, we were not in Vernal very long ere we reserved seats on a Green River raft day trip.  Because we deemed it chancy to cart along electronics with which to record our excursion, I found myself bereft of any camera equipment as I bumped, splashed and floated down that incredible canyon.   I vowed never again to let myself be in such a situation.

But back to the beginning . . . we booked with Adrift, one of only two commercial companies permitted to take folks through the Split Mountain section of the Green.  We had previously viewed Split Mountain from its top end and we had seen the bottom end of the canyon, but we had been consumed with curiosity about what the interior was like.  

The mountain is an uplift through which the river has carved its path.  The Adrift guides outfitted us with protective gear - helmets and life jackets - and whisked us off toward our adventure in vans.  As it turned out, passengers included me and the señor and 13 members of an extended family.  Thank goodness for them; otherwise, we would not have constituted sufficient numbers for a trip.  They were a friendly bunch; I was mightily impressed by the youngsters who were solicitous of the old lady (me!) throughout, inquiring if I needed help, offering an arm as I debarked from the van, holding doors, and so on.

Prior to getting on the water, we halted at a fascinating rock art panel.  Up the trail we went, where each of the four guides in turn offered explanations and possible interpretations of the several sites along the cliff face.  It was fun that we two had been there on a previous jaunt, and the señor was able to offer some insight to the possible meanings and usages of the petroglyphs.  The guides, all young enough to be our grandchildren, were appreciative of his perspectives from the point of experience.

The usual safety talk ensued once we were at riverside, thorough enough to give me second thoughts about going at all.  I dislike being told what I should do in the eventuality that they have managed to throw me into the water in the midst of a rapids or in case I have managed to become entangled in rocks or debris hidden beneath the waves or how I should respond if I am in the river and a guide is signalling whether I am just generally frightened and in need of rescue or if I am experiencing a medical emergency.  It was a lot of instructions; how am I to check my notes of what action to take when I have just been tossed overboard like a stray water bottle?

The upshot was that I proceeded full steam ahead.  I mean what else could I do when children are present and going ahead as if they didn't give a hoot about the dangers ahead.  The embarrassment of bailing and riding back in the van overcame any sense that I have gathered in my (cough) advanced years.

Natter and wilderness on the river . . .

 

Three boats, four guides, one family and us: the division worked just fine for them to split between two rafts and we had a private guided trip with Natter, a sensitive intelligent young man.  A native of upstate New York and a history major, Natter came west on his own, to his parents' dismay.  They are Palestinian immigrants; while supportive of their son, they are not quite understanding of his non-traditional ways, he told us.  His dream is to find a partner who will share his outdoor way of life, although his parents would have preferred that he marry sooner rather than later with a more traditional wife.

We had lots of time to swap stories with Natter, to learn from him and he from us.  As the trip leader, he was knowledgeable about the river, history of the region and the geology.  He loves what he is doing and loves sharing the canyon's incredible stark beauty.  We appreciated the wilderness feel of our Split Mountain raft trip as opposed to the party atmosphere on Oregon's Deschutes that we ran last year.  Both very different and both wonderful experiences.  Even more than a rafter, Natter teaches stand-up white water paddleboarding.  He has both swum and paddleboarded the entire stretch of Green River's Split Mountain rapids numerous times.  He has planned an extended family gathering for later in the summer in the western lands he loves; hopefully, it will give his parents a better understanding of the joy he derives from that fantastic country.

During our shore lunch, we had time with the family that accompanied us, and enlisted one of them with a cell phone along to photograph proof that we had been there and done that.  

 

 

 

When the patriarch overheard Chris explaining how a particular rock he had picked up illustrated climate change, he asked the señor to offer a mini-class to his grandchildren.  They obediently took time off from splashing in the river to listen more or less raptly.

Without photos, I am at a loss to describe our raft trip.  The class 3 rapids were fun and exciting, lovely to get wet in the process.  Because there were only the three of us to paddle, we may have worked a bit harder than with a boat full.  Natter was thoughtful to turn the raft in a circle to allow us ample views of jagged cliffsides soaring above us.  

We were told that moose live in Dinosaur - a surprising to me factoid - but we did not see one.  Twice we spotted mule deer does grazing along the shore, seeming completely unconcerned by our presence.  Near our put-in, a golden eagle flew for cover to escape smaller birds harassing it.  Further along, a bald eagle flew purposefully near the water's surface, and we spotted a second bald standing on a sand bar.  We were put in mind of Darren's presence when a great blue heron watched from its boulder perch and turned to observe our passing.  

Rafting through Split Mountain gave us pause to even more appreciate the foresight that has preserved such stupendous natural treasures to be marveled at into the future.  I am grateful for the opportunity and ability to experience and to share in some small way the wonders of nature, and the joy of connections with this world and with the people in it who also feel their heart connection with it.

Canyon Pintado . . .

Looking ahead, the señor determined that our move from Vernal, Utah, to Fruita, Colorado, could be achived via Pintado (paint) Canyon, and that some pull-outs would allow us access to points of interest not too far off the road.

 

Douglas Creek flows intermittently through the corridor; the Dominguez-Escalante expedition of 1776 explored the region, and gave it the name because of ancient paintings on cliff walls.

 

We were thrilled with the naturally sculpted fantastic formations and how light played across craggy canyon walls.  The pictographs and petroglyphs made by those who came before added even more interest to our hikes away from the road and up into tributary arroyos.

 

 

Much of the rock art was unique from any we have seen before.

 

 

 

I could not get into a position to adequately photograph this high panel.

 

 

This was quite a fascination for me: it is clearly a petrified wood log, the end of which has broken off and fallen away.

 

 

I don't think I have ever seen a hand and foot depiction as in this display.

 

 

The scene below would never have caught our attention; there was an interpretative sign that called it the "hanging hearth site" and illustrated what had been found there during excavation.  Most unusual - it was a prehistoric multiple dwelling site carved into the cliff and tucked up under an overhanging rock.  To look at today, it is indecipherable.

 A huge bat cave is on the same cliffside.

 

 

As we ventured further up the canyon, we came upon the remnants of a cowboy line shack, an extremely cleverly made one.  It was a very small one-room affair, now collapsed onto itself, with a chimney constructed of rocks jammed into a natural flue in the cliff wall . . .

 

 

. . . and with even a crude shelter for a horse.

 

 

Surely a solstice site of some sort, one unique panel was painted onto an overhang.

 

 

Other stops and sites required climbing up to view the paintings, but some were not accessible while we had the trailer attached.  The place is well worth a return visit with more time to explore, and perhaps in more clement climes.  It was a hot business getting to the sites we did.

 

 

As usual, the heat did not seem to affect the reptillian denizens.