Spring 2017

The hills above Salt Lake City are finally turning green.

Earlier in the year my family took a short trip to southeast Utah but it rained so much one day that I didn’t think the dirt roads would be passable, so we visited Ratio, a land art installation near Green River UT.

The next day started out foggy and cold, here’s an unassuming stretch of Muddy Creek shortly before it joins the Fremont River to become the Dirty Devil.

Later it cleared up and we explored the San Rafael Desert. This track didn’t seem to have seen much traffic over the winter.

In a nearby canyon I found a grinding stone that someone had stashed between 700 and a few thousand years ago.

Later in spring it turned out my kids’ school vacations were misaligned so instead of getting out into the desert as a family I took each kid individually on a short trip. Here we’re partway up a trail that was used in the first half of the 20th century to give sheep access to a remote mesa top.

The weather was imperfect but showy; here the Henry Mountains, the last part of the lower 48 to be mapped and explored, are getting stormed on. I feel like deserts are supposed to be dry but it seems like we get rained on on almost every trip.

Wind and grass.

North Caineville Mesa and Factory Butte.

Indian paintbrush.

This is the kind of photograph you only seem to get when you’re soaked from one rain storm and another is approaching. We had gotten the tent up during the first shower, so were mostly dry and happy. I accidentally grabbed a one-person tent for this trip so the ten year old and I had a pretty cozy night.

During his break, my older son and I explored some areas around Escalante, UT. This Anasazi granary under an arch is something I’d been wanting to see for a long time, but had previously been thwarted by logistical problems such as a long, rugged drive.

The masonry is in about as good condition as any I’ve seen, and notice the sticks at the top of the opening.

We also ran across some less well-preserved granaries.

I always wonder about the circumstances that lead to this kind of thing being abandoned, perhaps it broke inside an animal or when it hit the ground after a miss? Often you find broken arrowheads along with chippings indicating a site where people sat and worked, but this point was all by itself.

Afternoon light in Alvey Wash, a large canyon draining the Kaiparowits Plateau.

The next day we visited the Red Breaks canyon system, which has some spectacular slots filled with nice sandstone and small climbing problems. Not shown: climbing problems and freezing, waist-deep water.

A bizarre landform in the Red Breaks area that is often called the Escalante Volcano (though it is not, as far as I know, of volcanic origin). It’s hard to tell from this photo but this thing is enormous; the sandstone dome in the center of the “volcano” is about 80 feet tall.

A neat area of petrified logs in Egg Canyon off the Burr Trail near Boulder, UT.

Some of the logs bridged the waterway.

I hope everyone else had a nice spring too!

Elk and Arch

I wanted to share a few pictures from a long, very cold snowshoe/hike I did in January. The goal was to reach a natural arch that I had previously spotted in upper City Creek Canyon. This was fun to find: I hadn’t realized there was an arch large enough to stand inside within walking distance of my house. I also saw the big herd of elk that live in this area, which doesn’t get a lot of visitation from humans other than hunters.

Nine Mile Canyon

One of my boys and I spent Sunday exploring Nine Mile Canyon, in the remote Book Cliffs a few hours drive from Salt Lake City. This canyon is known for its dense collection of rock art and ruins, a lot of which can be seen from the paved road that follows the canyon bottom. This was a lot of driving for a day trip but it wasn’t too boring since I had checked out an audiobook of Fahrenheit 451 from the library.

A great pictograph panel, the figures are several feet high.

Typical scenery in the upper canyon.

A dodgy ice bridge. This one held us but I got wet to the knees on a different stream crossing.

Fremont people in a large part of Utah drew sheep this way:

Zion NP and Environs in Winter

As we enter faculty and grad recruiting season, I’d like to present a bit of Utah propaganda. No heroics are required to see this stuff: just a few hours driving from Salt Lake City (on pavement) and some mild day hiking. I’ll provide detailed instructions for visiting any of these locations upon request.

Obelisk

Classes start next week so I sneaked out for a quick hike on Tuesday, climbing a minor local peak that is informally called The Obelisk. This one had eluded me for years so it felt nice to finally stand on top. Summitpost says “Obelisk is rarely climbed during the summer and provides ample solitude,” and I found out why: the ascent involves a long, steep boulder field, with many of the rocks just barely balanced. Ugh — the next time I climb this peak it’ll be when the boulders are covered by snow.

Looking out over Cottonwood Ridge.

A couple of friends.

Wild and wonderful Hogum Fork, it sits just a few miles from a half-million people and is hardly visited.

The Obelisk at the top of Obelisk Peak. I could hear the music from 2001.

You can see my summit beer in the background.

Maybird Gulch with the Pfeifferhorn looming beyond.

Perseids

Matthew Flatt, my 9 year old son, and I stayed out last night watching the Perseid meteor shower. To find some dark skies we drove out to the Utah-Nevada border, along the way passing a sign that said “NEXT GAS 130 MILES” — always a good sign on a road trip. We arrived around 12:30 and the show started right away, we saw several meteors before even getting out of the vehicle. Here’s Matthew in the moonlight along with a very faint meteor:

After the moon set things got better although the sky never got as truly dark as it should have in that location — I don’t think the air was very clear. Even so, the milky way was pretty jaw-dropping and we saw hundreds of meteors. I know nothing about astrophotography and don’t really have the right gear but I did manage to capture a few meteors.

After a while Isaac timed out and went to sleep in the truck and Matthew and I started to get really cold so we left, getting home before dawn. Definitely worth losing a little sleep to see this.

Happy Canyon

I’ve been doing a poor job of taking pictures in Europe. On the other hand, I’ve had a trip report on the back burner since last spring, so let’s look at a few pictures from that.

Happy Canyon, in a remote part of southeast Utah, has a scenic and non-technical narrow section that would be famous if it were easier to get to. There are about five ways to get there, but each has a catch: a very long hike including a rappel, a multi-day hike with poor access to water, a backcountry airplane landing, a float trip on an intermittent river, or a difficult drive. The last option was the only one that made sense for us.

We left Hanksville UT before sunrise and had about a 20-minute drive on pavement before turning off at Poison Spring Canyon where the track follows the bottom of the canyon in and out of the waterway, through mud and sand and pools of water. This canyon is frequently impassable, but it had been bladed since the last flash flood and was mostly lots of fun, with only a few sections of real 4WD. It took us about 40 minutes to drive 11 miles to where the Black Jump road turns off (#1 on the map below). This next road follows a bench between cliffs; it was put in during the 1950s for uranium exploration and, as far as I know, hasn’t been maintained since then. This track had caused me a lot of stress during trip planning and indeed it was a bit exciting: it is partially blocked by rocks, goes right next to cliff edges, has sinkholes in the clay that could eat a wheel, and has some sections of real high-clearance 4WD. It took us about an hour to drive five miles to where the track is finally blocked for good by a bus-sized rock that fell from the cliffs above (#3).

happymap (Map credit: USGS with annotations by rockgremlin.)

So there we are — an 8 year old, a ten year old, and me — parked on a ledge halfway down the 1400-foot deep Dirty Devil River gorge, probably 10 miles from the nearest human being. We continued along the deteriorating mining road on foot; there’s a lot of petrified wood including some entire logs, which are really fun to see. After a while (well past #4 — the folks who made that map dropped down to the river too early) there’s a nice break in the cliffs and we picked our way down to the river, which was flowing in the 80-90 cfs range. We all took off our shoes; the younger boy crossed holding my hand and the older one crossed on his own. The mud was nasty and there was a bit of quicksand, but nothing too hard to avoid. At this point we were at the mouth of Happy Canyon (#5) and we had lunch on the river bank.

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Happy Canyon rapidly narrows down and remains narrow for most of a mile, and while it isn’t actually a slot canyon (where you can consistently touch both walls) it is deep and convoluted.

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We could have stayed in the narrows for hours, but we had a long (and warm, even in March) hike out and I didn’t want to drive the Black Jump road in the dark. We cooked dinner at the junction with the main Poison Spring road, and then we made it back to Hanksville by dusk.

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The next day was less eventful: we visited a little-visited mesa top and found a place where wind or floods had created a perfect little beach along the Fremont River.

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On the final day of this quick trip I wanted to visit yet another out-of-the way spot. The boys endured a breakfast of beef jerky and gatorade, a routefinding debacle, an extremely muddy river crossing, and a longish and not-inspiring hike. As a reward, we got to spend an hour or two on the moon before heading home.

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Overall this was a successful trip, though we did run into one person while hiking.