Return to Green River

Feels like home, this return to Vernal, Utah, and the Green River.  A previous two-week stay was more than enough to induce us back, and we've already vowed that we must have at least another week here.  There's so much to see and do in this region, and so much variety in the experiencing of it.

 

 

What a great time we had doing the "remember when" thing, as in remember when we stopped at this spot on the river and there were domestic bunnies lurking in the bushes.  Or remember when we stopped to climb up to that mine and there was a whip snake.  How odd the memories that stick while the ones such as "Where did I leave my phone?" disappear into the ozone.

 

One thing we did not recall was pronghorns in the area; we encountered quite a number of them individually and in small bunches out on that huge peninsula created by the horseshoe bend of the Green.

One stopped to pose for us with an oil well on the ridge behind him.  There are scattered wells in the region - shades of Mid-horrid-land.

 

 

The Green River flows with a strong current but fairly lazily as it winds through the horseshoe bend, depositing great benches of sand and silt, but when it cuts through Utah's massive canyons, it picks up a good head of steam.

We fished in the Horseshoe Bend section, catching catfish and one smallmouth bass, which we discovered later we were supposed to kill instead of releasing.  Had we known about that regulation, we would have released it anyway.
 

As we hiked along other stretches of the water, we encountered very invasive tamarisk blooming.  Utah has worked hard to eradicate that species, but clearly not entirely successfully.  Invasive or not, I love its unusual vibrant blooms.

  

 

We came across "old man river" guarding his section of shoreline.

 

There is water aplenty in these parts: creeks, streams, rivers and lakes - Vernal is just about the same elevation as Prescott - but the surrounding high country delivers lots of running water from its catchments.  The mountains of the region are legendary, vast and wonderfully lush, forests unlike any you will find in Arizona.  Yes, our White Mountains are verdant and wonderful, but the high country here is positively luxuriant, while exhibiting Utah's signature rocky vistas.

On a drive up to Flaming Gorge and Red Canyon and beyond onto the flanks of the High Uintas, the scenery was eye-popping, vistas for miles and miles, twisted and swirled rocky exposures through thick forests. . .

 

 

 

 

 . . . bighorn sheep making their casual way along a rocky ridge . . .

 . . . with snow pack still in the High Uintas.

. . . marveling at the serenity of ponds and lakes . . .

 . . . until Mother Nature determined to throw a temper tantrum with scary dark swirling clouds and hard rain and hail.

We continued on the drive that was suggested to us - a geologic loop - because fishing became out of the question, weather-wise, and we were so glad we did.  The description did not blow any air up my skirts, but the scenes we encountered were stupendous!  I was so grateful we had been told about it.

Unfortunately, the dull light from M.N.'s tantrum pretty much precluded capturing most of it photographically.  What a disappointment!  I hoped against hope that the camera would convey the stunning and astounding views we encountered, but it was not to be.

The rock of one massive section of mountain was twisted completely into a horseshoe shape - impossible to comprehend how that occurred.

One of many stops was at Big Spring as it roars into Sheep Creek.  A footbridge allowed us to cross over and walk back to where the water pours right out of the cliffside.  What a fabulous spot with the energy of the spring water, the creek below, and the rocks carpeted with thick moss from that continuous moisture.  Caves above the spring undoubtedly provided shelter in the long-ago.

Our route took us through a narrow canyon with spires of rock towering hundreds of feet overhead.  Between light being limited due to the precipitous canyon walls and thick rainy clouds, photographs were impossible, and I am so sorry not to be able to share that stark beauty.  At one point, the road had been washed out by the creek flooding, but had been semi-repaired, and we were able to get through.  I would not have wanted to be in there when that was occurring, though.

As we emerged, we looked back toward the narrow chasm we had just traversed, while admiring the view of Sheep Creek Bay on the Flaming Gorge Reservoir.

We are becoming accustomed to interesting weather forecasts here: they all foretell sunny skies, but when regular afternoon storms commence, it changes to some percentage or another of rain possibility, in our experience an every-day happening.