We be Arizonans . . .

. . . which equates to a near-obsession with water, in whatever form it comes: falling from the sky, seeping or gushing from beneath the Earth's surface, or running atop said surface.  In the majority of instances that a perennial stream exists, mankind has sought to control it in one way or another via diversion or damming.

The Winslow region is blessed with water in several ways; we had thought we might try our hands at fishing while there, but the unceasing cold wind deterred us.  It did not dampen our intention to be out and about, fortunately, but I was grateful to be bundled up a la winter.

At Chevelon Creek where its flow is directed by a deep rocky chasm before its route crosses Rock Art Ranch, we walked upstream hoping to find spots that might allow us to launch kayaks.  The one we found would work, but only if we worked harder than we might want to dragging them to it.  

As far as we went, one bank of the creek was steeply rock-sided; both banks are heavily brushed with very few breaks and those only where occasional flood water flows in.  Those are mostly steep enough drop-offs that we could probably scramble down them, but there would be no way to climb back out.

We did get in lots of good walking during our stay, and anticipate returning for much more.  Because of an arrangement between the Game & Fish Department and the Hopi Tribe, a lot of ranch land owned by the Indians is accessible to the public, so the opportunity for on-foot exploration is exciting.

Because our walk was near a water source, we encountered lots of evidence that many had been there before, both prehistorically with stone chipped in the process of tool making and bits of pottery . . .

 

. . . and historically with large scatters of old sun-colored green and purple glass.

It is a stream that beckons; we still hope to find a route to put in our boats and kayak through its canyons.

Clear Creek . . .

Not to be outdone, not-too-far-away Clear Creek boasts an even more spectacular canyon.  There we are certain to have access via its dammed-up reservoir.  

 

 

It would be easy to put in at McHood Park's boat ramp, from which we could soon be upstream beneath those very precipitous bluffs.

This is the kind of terrain we romped around and across to get glimpses of the watery chasm below.

 

The country side also has interesting red rock formations that often leave massive tabletop platforms teetering atop relatively spindly columns.  Unfortunately, many of them that are near roadways have become surfaces for graffiti expressions.

My sentiments exactly . . .