{"id":9410,"date":"2019-11-10T11:27:21","date_gmt":"2019-11-10T18:27:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/?p=9410"},"modified":"2020-07-02T09:38:05","modified_gmt":"2020-07-02T15:38:05","slug":"fall-trip-2019-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/?p=9410","title":{"rendered":"Fall Trip 2019: Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

Previous: Part 1<\/a><\/p>\n

Into the Snow<\/h1>\n

I felt bad about leaving my friend, although I figured he’d probably be glad to be free of my bitching and moaning. Without me, he’d also be free to both hike and drive much faster and hence go farther. I’d be doing a solo trip as usual and bemoaning having no one to share it with. Such is life.<\/p>\n

I spent early Wednesday morning washing the outside, and more importantly, vacuuming and dusting the interior of the rough-riding Sidekick. Then I hit the road north again. It was still cloudless, and the weather meant that I could keep my windshield clean \u2013 it was too cold for bugs! I knew it was also going to be too cold for me to camp, but I figured if I got to the area I wanted to explore, I could just do day trips outside and spend my nights in motels until the weather turned warm again.<\/p>\n

Passing St. George on the interstate, I drove by a really rare British car, a Bristol coupe with quad exhaust. An older couple were driving and looking very self-satisfied. I’d heard of these cars but it was the first I’d ever seen.<\/p>\n

I stopped again at the wood-fired pizza place in Cedar City \u2013 already much higher elevation, and on my way to higher still. Past there, I began to see snow on the high mountains to the east, and when I turned onto I-70 there was snow on both sides of the highway.<\/p>\n

From the Interstate I drove even farther north, to the small coal-mining and oil-and-gas-pumping town I discovered a few years ago, in the heart of prehistoric Fremont Indian territory, which has some of my favorite rock writing and painting. That whole area has super-low room rates for some reason, and I checked into one of my favorite motels, where I can get a very nice room for $53\/night, and decided to stay a couple of nights so I could spend a day doing laundry and working through my photos. At check-in, the desk clerk mentioned that current temperatures, here at the end of October, would be a record low even for the depth of winter in January and February.<\/p>\n

\"Driving <\/a>
Driving north from the Mojave desert into the mountains of Utah <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Wildfire <\/a>
Wildfire or prescribed burn? Snow on mountains in background. <\/div> <\/div>
\"Turning <\/a>
Turning east and rising into the snow zone. <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6239\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Driving <\/a>
Driving east over mountain passes <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6243\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6250\" <\/a> <\/div>
\"And <\/a>
And back down into sandstone canyons of the Colorado Plateau <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Finally, <\/a>
Finally, heading north toward the town where I’ll spend a couple of nights <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Fossil <\/a>
Fossil fuel country <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6267\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

Pagan Holiday<\/h1>\n

Thursday was Halloween, everyone’s favorite holiday but me. I spent a busy day at the motel and drove out for dinner that night, only to find that all the restaurants were closed for the holiday. Funny that Mormons should take a pagan holiday so seriously! I warmed up leftovers on my propane stove, back in the room.<\/p>\n

Majestic Hike<\/h1>\n

The forecast showed the weather getting slightly warmer, so I hoped to resume camping on Friday, after a long-dreamed-of hike. But when I got up, the temperature was only 7 degrees above zero.<\/p>\n

I packed up and headed south for the canyons. The back road crossing the broad sagebrush-and-grass plateau is well-graded over fine gravel, so I was able to get up some speed until I came upon a rancher driving a long trailer full of beeves.<\/p>\n

He was doing nearly 40 but I could go 10 mph faster, so I crept up on his left to pass, and he pulled right to let me by. At that moment my left tires hit the loose gravel of the shoulder and I began to fishtail all over the road at high speed, threatening to end up in the deep ditch at the sides. To make it worse, he started braking and I nearly hit the back of his trailer where big-eyed cattle were shuffling about nervously.<\/p>\n

The moment required fast reactions, and fortunately my morning coffee was up to it. I regained control and continued my pass, carefully avoiding the loose gravel of the shoulder, and soon had the relieved rancher in my rearview. My alertness was much improved after that.<\/p>\n

I entered the head of the first canyon and twisted deeper through it, past the sacred cliff paintings, into the really dark and ominous part before the mouth, where it opens suddenly into the valley of the San Rafael River. My plan was to find the trail upstream into the river’s majestic canyon, and with good maps and directions this time I found it easily. It was about 11 am when I set out, still cool but warming in the sun, so that I gradually shed layers while keeping my warmer clothes packed for the shade of late afternoon.<\/p>\n

Getting into this canyon had been a dream, and it didn’t disappoint. What surprised me was the quality of the trail. It was mostly smooth, hard-packed dirt, virtually all on a level except for short stretches that climbed over steep clay bluffs. On the floodplain at the foot of clay slopes it became a tunnel through thick riparian vegetation, sometimes past small sinkholes. There was a single mountain bike track visible in places, but I suspected that this trail was actually maintained mostly by burros and only adopted by hikers after the fact.<\/p>\n

There was supposed to be a pictograph site up the first side canyon I came to, but I couldn’t find it. I did find lots of sign of both cattle and burros, but never saw the animals themselves. Ice rimmed the river bank, the water flowing steadily but turbid, with only minor rapids.<\/p>\n

I had no way of knowing exactly where I was \u2013 I had only looked down into this canyon from above, at about the midpoint, but from down below I couldn’t tell where that was. It started out and remained spectacular all the way, with big floodplain meadows golden in the autumn, and the constant rustling of dead leaves in the big cottonwoods. Except for the birds and the rustling of leaves, it was an almost spookily quiet and empty place, like an open-air museum with towering walls of sandstone. As usual, I timed myself so I could get back to the vehicle, and even to the paved highway, before full dark, but I kept going a little farther than planned, just to see what was around the next bend.<\/p>\n

The biggest side canyon I reached featured old ATV\/UTV tracks and campsites of drivers who had obviously come down the canyon from its head, many miles away.<\/p>\n

\"Starting <\/a>
Starting out in the morning <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Leaving <\/a>
Leaving town, with snowcapped cliffs in the distance <\/div> <\/div>
\"After <\/a>
After driving across the high plateau, I entered the mouth of the canyon with the famous cliff paintings <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The canyon just keeps getting deeper <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Near <\/a>
Near the mouth of the canyon <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Approaching <\/a>
Approaching what I hope is the head of the trail into the Little Grand Canyon <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Yep\" <\/a>
Yep <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Mouth <\/a>
Mouth of the canyon of the San Rafael River <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"View <\/a>
View upriver from the mouth <\/div> <\/div>
\"View <\/a>
View downriver from the mouth <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"After <\/a>
After I warm up, I stretch <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Inside <\/a>
Inside bends of the river lie grassy floodplain meadows <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Sometimes <\/a>
Sometimes the meadows are decorated with deflated plastic helium balloons from thoughtless family celebrations hundreds of miles away <\/div> <\/div>
\"In <\/a>
In places, the trail climbs up over clay bluffs <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The bluffs give you a better view of the river <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Approaching <\/a>
Approaching the mouth of the first side canyon <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"I <\/a>
I headed up the canyon looking for pictographs, but couldn’t find them <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"However, <\/a>
However, I did find this boulder with a trunk like an elephant <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6310\" <\/a> <\/div>
\"Farther <\/a>
Farther up the main trail I passed this formation like the horns of a wild ram <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Rounding <\/a>
Rounding another bend I came upon this stone tower. Yes, that’s ice on the edge of the river. <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"I <\/a>
I found many small cottonwoods recently felled by beavers, but saw no other evidence of the furry carpenters <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Another <\/a>
Another boulder with a window <\/div> <\/div>
\"A <\/a>
A deep place in the murky river where boulders had fallen in <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Patterns <\/a>
Patterns in sandstone <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Exposed <\/a>
Exposed rock encrusted with minerals, hosting intricate biological soil crusts <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6335\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Trailside <\/a>
Trailside rock eroded into a mushroomlike shape <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"A <\/a>
A layer of some turqoise mineral was sandwiched into some of the red cliffs <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The mouth of the first big side canyon, which according to the offical Utah website was supposed to be 8 miles from the trailhead. If you look closely you might be able to see a tiny window in the cliffs at upper left of center <\/div> <\/div>
\"I <\/a>
I ventured up the side canyon a quarter mile or so and found these vehicle tracks, probably from UTVs driving down from the head of the canyon <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"These <\/a>
These canyons all feature tamarisk in some sort of apparent equilibrium with native riparian shrubs <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Sweet <\/a>
Sweet campsite near the mouth of the side canyon, used by the off-roaders <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Closeup <\/a>
Closeup of the tiny window rock, high in a cliff, revealing the entire cliff to be only a thin wall <\/div> <\/div>
\"It <\/a>
It was probably time to head back, but I was really hoping to reach a point where I could see the overlook from which I’d discovered this canyon on a past trip <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"And <\/a>
And sure enough, after rounding the bend, I entered the main part of the canyon visible from the overlook, at the top of those cliffs just left of center <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"And <\/a>
And here’s the view from the overlook. My hike ended way down there, just left of center. <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Aerial <\/a>
Aerial view of canyon system. Upper diagonal is the canyon with pictographs down which I drove. Left of the mouth of that canyon is the mouth of the canyon of the San Rafael, where I started hiking, and the big bend left of center before the overlook is where I stopped and turned around. <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"What <\/a>
What a day, what a place! <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6398Pano\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

When I checked my terminal location later, on a floodplain meadow that extended far upstream to the west, I realized it had been the right decision \u2013 I’d made it to a point below the overlook where I’d first glimpsed this place from above. Back then, I could’ve looked down on the place I reached today. That was cool.<\/p>\n

I figured I’d covered about 13 miles by the time I got back to the vehicle, walking rapidly for almost 5 hours on a smooth, nearly level trail. The sun was setting and I was stoked to camp, although I knew it would drop below freezing that night. I drove back up into the pictograph canyon to my favorite campsite. But as soon as I got out and looked around, I remembered that in this canyon, the sun rose very late, especially at this time of year when it was low in the sky. This campsite would stay cold until midday. It was also carpeted with fine sandstone dust, and I’d have to find a way to unload all my gear without getting it saturated with dust again. Damn!<\/p>\n

I drove south to the Interstate \u2013 a long lonely drive in fading light \u2013 and from there, east to the dying town on the Green River, where there was an affordable retro motel I figured would be okay. The manager was surly, but the rooms had been remodeled tastefully, and there was a taqueria only a block away. The problems resumed after dinner when I wanted to take a hot bath for my aching body. There was no hot water! The manager said a handyman was working on the situation. He showed no sympathy for my desire for a hot bath but said he would let me know when it was fixed. I was fast asleep long before then.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_6405\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Some <\/a>
Some backpacker’s tiny campsite along the trail <\/div> <\/div>
\"Nice <\/a>
Nice reflections as the sun goes down <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Beautiful <\/a>
Beautiful grasses on the floodplain, blowing in a breeze <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6416\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6417\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"More <\/a>
More beaver activity <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6424\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Crescent <\/a>
Crescent moon over stone tower <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6436\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6438\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Another <\/a>
Another junco in the riparian forest <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6444\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The valley below the mouth of both canyons <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"My <\/a>
My old favorite campsite, which I realized would be too shady and cold in the morning <\/div> <\/div>
\"Beautiful <\/a>
Beautiful shrub common on the Colorado Plateau <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Approaching <\/a>
Approaching town, cliffs north of the Interstate <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

Sacred Art<\/h1>\n

Saturday was still another cloudless and cold morning, but the hot water was back on at the motel. I loaded up the truck after breakfast and drove up the road toward a gas station. But once there, I found that my “check engine” light had come on, and my engine was surging at idle, between 1,000 and 2,500 rpm. It’s a spooky thing to have happen, like a demon has taken control of your car.<\/p>\n

This had happened a week before my trip, and I’d paid my shop $300 to fix it by removing the valve cover and cleaning out the exhaust recirculation system. Needless to say I was pissed, here on the weekend in this declining podunk town, all set to go exploring but with a vehicle problem I’d already paid to solve.<\/p>\n

The gas station clerk directed me to an auto shop miles away at the other end of town, but there was no one there. It was Saturday after all. I spotted another shop across the street, attached to a gas station. They were working on a big rig and said to wait a half hour or so. By then, the Sidekick was running fine. The shop said their computer was only good for later models, and suggested driving around a while to see if the problem returned. I spent another half hour driving aimlessly around the area, and it still drove okay, so I decided to just ignore it and go my merry way.<\/p>\n

But somewhere in the midst of all that, my left arm went haywire on me with no apparent cause.
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

I’ve had recurring problems with my upper right arm for more than a decade, which I assumed had to do with poor form in my strength training regimen, until it was diagnosed last winter as a rotator cuff tear requiring surgery. The surgery is known for the longest and hardest recovery of any orthopedic procedure, and the initial period would’ve been impossible for someone living alone anyway, so I avoided it by devising my own improved training regimen, and gradually learned how to use that right arm and keep the shoulder strong without triggering the pain.<\/p>\n

But along the way I realized my left arm \u2013 or shoulder \u2013 had the same problem, only less. And now, during my trip, somehow I had triggered the left shoulder, and that arm was hurting even more than the right had at its worst time. I figured I could get it working again eventually the same way I’d fixed the other shoulder, but for now, the pain was so bad it took hours to fade away, while I was trying to drive on really bad roads. This persisted for the rest of my trip, on top of increasing pain in my back and hip from other chronic conditions. But hey, at least that cramp in my thigh was gone, and I’d almost forgotten about the knee problem that had stressed me out so much at the start of the trip!<\/p>\n

Temporarily ignoring my engine surging and warning light, I headed for a pictograph site I’d heard about but seen no pictures of. I knew it was very close to the Interstate but tricky to get to via intricate back roads that actually went through a culvert that often flooded.<\/p>\n

The roads and the culvert drive turned out to be relatively easy, and the site, at the foot of cliffs visible from the freeway, turned out to be modest but exquisite.<\/p>\n

\"Nice <\/a>
Nice motel with surly manager <\/div> <\/div>
\"Driving <\/a>
Driving out the Interstate in the morning <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Group <\/a>
Group campsite at a barren intersection of dirt roads, just off the Interstate <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Approaching <\/a>
Approaching the culvert where the road goes under the Interstate <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6530\" <\/a> <\/div>
\"Hoping <\/a>
Hoping to find the pictographs at the base of those cliffs <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6486Pano\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

There behind ancient junipers were two small painting panels, set up on the cliff well out of reach. The left one had been partially obscured by minerals draining down the cliff face, but that only made the quality of the right one more miraculous. I’d seen this style of cliff painting on and off for decades, but I was suddenly struck more than ever before how amazing it is that they’ve persisted in such good shape for more than a millenium. What of our graphical works can ever last that long? I suspect the answer is nothing.<\/p>\n

This is a style of work on stone which can truly be called art, rather than writing. It also struck me, as an artist, that these paintings, confined to a geographical area that could easily be walked throughout the course of a year, could actually have been the work of a single artist. The style is so distinct, so meticulously and consistently executed. Others have speculated this, but most experts \u2013 none of them artists \u2013 believe stylistic differences indicate multiple creators.<\/p>\n

In any event this modest site was a revelation that humbled me in many ways.<\/p>\n

\"Pictographs <\/a>
Pictographs were there, but so powerful that I needed to circle around them a bit first, discovering these berries I didn’t recognize <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Rock <\/a>
Rock paintings are barely visible here: one panel to the left of the juniper, and the other in the gap between the tree’s trunks <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"A <\/a>
A view with both panels, left and right <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Then <\/a>
Then the right-hand panel <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The left-hand panel <\/div> <\/div>
\"Closer, <\/a>
Closer, showing more detail. Note the faint row of figures with white bodies at bottom, between the two large figures. <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Detail <\/a>
Detail of the row of small figures <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The better-preserved right-hand panel <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6508\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"IMG_6507\" <\/a> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Looking <\/a>
Looking out from the base of the cliff across the valley where the Interstate crosses <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

Devil’s Canyon<\/h1>\n

The day was still young and I was hoping to get in a good hike. I’d read about a nearby peak, the highest on this plateau, that seemed accessible via a road through something called Devil’s Canyon. I should’ve paid more attention to that name.<\/p>\n

It was only one exit away on the Interstate, but this area is like a maze. Things look different from every vantage. The first road took me down into a broad meadow with a big encampment of huge RVs, the owners of which were all off riding their side-by-sides \u2013 except for one lady walking alone beside the dirt road, who frowned at me as I waved and smiled.<\/p>\n

Then I got to the interesting part. These Utah back roads over sandstone feature actual rock ledges that you have to drive over \u2013 if you can \u2013 or perhaps build ramps over \u2013 again, if you can. This was exactly what I got my vehicle for, so I was totally stoked, until I reached a crest, spotted the peak miles away, and encountered the road into the canyon, which was clearly even ledgier. It was then that I recalled the name Devil’s Canyon.<\/p>\n

I started down the road, easing the Sidekick over the ledges, carefully checking first for clearance. After I’d dropped several hundred feet I remembered there was a place in the bottom of the canyon that most vehicles could not pass over. I’d read that and assumed my Sidekick would be fine, but the way things were looking, I was losing confidence. I realized it was already too late to reach the peak, and if I continued, I would end up faced with another campsite deep in a canyon \u2013 Devil’s Canyon \u2013 that would be shaded and freezing well into the next day.<\/p>\n

My only alternative was to drive much farther south and stay in still another motel, in a tiny half-dead settlement that I knew well, because it was the staging area for exploring one of my favorite mountain ranges. There I would surely find plenty of hikes, and if lucky even some pictographs, to satisfy me during the next few days.<\/p>\n

I could only remember staying there once before. There were two motels, a no-frills but potentially more comfortable larger place, and an older, more funky smaller place where I had spent a night last year. I chose the newer place this time, and was grateful that I had. After checking in, I crossed the road to the Slickrock Grill, a sort of Hollywooded-up joint frequented by the few Eurotrash that make it this far off the beaten path of Utah tourism. There I had a very serviceable dinner featuring a massive filet of tender trout.<\/p>\n

\"Back <\/a>
Back on the Interstate, approaching the exit for Devil’s Canyon <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The beginning of a typical road across the sandstone plateaus, featuring some modest ledges <\/div> <\/div>
\"The <\/a>
The peak I was hoping to climb <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Road <\/a>
Road into canyon gets more interesting, with taller ledges <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"After <\/a>
After giving up on climbing the peak, I returned to the Interstate, where I noticed this strange tree <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Group <\/a>
Group RV camp down there, with peak in background <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

Ferrari Fails<\/h1>\n

On Sunday morning, my left arm was still aching and my neck had been stiff and sore on both sides for a couple of days now. But the mattress I’d slept on! It wasn’t particularly firm, but was topped with memory foam in such a way that it felt good no matter what position I was in.<\/p>\n

My next destination was a pictograph panel I’d read about in the most remote part of the mountains. I’d also read that the road to that area had been washed out over the summer, so I wanted to check in at the local BLM office to ask about it. But today was Sunday, and I confirmed that the office was closed.<\/p>\n

Today was also the day of the U.S. Grand Prix in Austin, where I was hoping my Ferrari heroes would break out of their slump and thrash Mercedes. Between the BLM office, the arm pain and miraculous bed, and wanting to follow the race, I decided to stay over another night, and spend the day chilling on pain meds.<\/p>\n

Ferrari failed miserably, but there were impressive drives by good people on lesser teams. And that bed!<\/p>\n

A Mesa Too Far<\/h1>\n

Come Monday morning, the guy at the BLM office was circumspect. He recommended I just follow their excellent route map, which I’d obtained a hard copy of in previous years. I headed south down the highway to the remote turnoff to the “backcountry byway,” a euphemism for “you takes your chances.”<\/p>\n

Yikes! I love these mountains! They’re so vast, yet so visible, with so many unforested slopes and distinctive peaks, so you always know where you are and can identify the landscape all around you.<\/p>\n

Of course much of that is due to the human-caused wildfire that stripped forest \u2013 both lower pinyon-juniper and tall alpine conifers \u2013 from two-thirds of the eastern flank 16 years ago. It’s another really tragic impact of our “civilization” to behold, but these mountains are so vast, and so much is still intact, that you can easily see beyond the damage.<\/p>\n

The road turned out to be just as hard on Sidekick as anything in the Arizona monument. But I was determined to find that pictograph site. I knew I had a long way to go, and my attitude remained positive all the way over the snowy crest to the other side of the mountains, 20 miles and 2-1\/2 hours from the highway. Along the way I passed many mule deer and a group camp of hunters, all of whom were out riding UTVs which I passed later down the road. The dust was so bad that they were all wearing dust masks, and I was breathing dust even with all the windows and vents closed.<\/p>\n