Today we went glyph hunting in Montezuma Creek. And when you start doing that, you're going to see a lot of potsherds and granaries, too. It was warm (40ish) and snowy, so everything was a mud hole. But we scrambled up and down four or five times to keep from falling asleep. Near the end of the day, VSO found an old miner's shack that looked a lot like a hobbit hole. Pictures here.
The South Fork of Mule, with its Burning House, is more famous, but today we went into the North Fork, which is very beautiful and somewhat less busy. It snowed for most of the day and the way was slippery, but we made it to a nice ruin about three miles up before it was time to turn around. EDO returned to The Homestead today, so that made VSO the team captain out in the field. She wore me down with a relentless pace over rugged terrain. As always, I was glad to hit the oil just before dark. Pictures here.
We started the day by walking up the dugway from Comb Wash to the top of the Comb. Until the 1960s this was the state highway, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I kept telling the girls, "This isn't too bad. It is rocky, but any jeeper could do it." I didn't expect to be immediately proved correct, but . . . we were passed by four jeepers as we hiked out (though it isn't clear to me why they were towing trailers). From there we went to Arch Canyon (and found jeeper tracks, but fortunately didn't see any trailers). It was snowing and we hiked up just a mile or so to look at some ruins on the south facing wall. We finished the day on the slickrock, looking at glyph panels and potsherds. Pictures here.
It was never very cold, mostly in the mid-30s, but the sun was blocked and the wind was strong. It was one of those days where you geared-up on the way in and stripped-down on the way out. At any rate, the girls enjoyed dropping into the upper end of Butler Wash to view a two story-tower and scrambling through a few miles of the North Fork of Whiskers Draw to see another nice ruin, before heading out to the old dugway above Arch Canyon. Pictures here.
Last Saturday, we put Glen through the quattrothon, this Saturday we only skied and scrambled. Well. I guess we split one load of wood, so call it a triathlon. All three of us started with a ski tour on the plateau, which resulted in a very nice track through the pines. Then, after dropping VSO at The Homestead, EDO and I went for a hike up one of the washes near the Gap and a descent along the ridge. By then, the sun was setting. Beautiful.
During our short visit with Glen, the third outing was a ski tour in the park. Glen does a fair amount of skiing with his family in New England and upstate New York, so we'll call him an advanced intermediate. Unfortunately, there is so much dead and downed wood on the rim of the Breaks that it is good to have experience skiing on logs. Again, our treatment of him may not have been completely fair.
Glen is, on the other hand, a life-long athlete and definitely not a whiner, so he managed it with good grace and a good attitude. The reward, of course, was the view into the canyon. On a clear, crisp, snowy winter afternoon, that view was spectacular. Pictures here.
Glen said that he had never been further west than Dallas. Until this week. His company flew him to a conference in Las Vegas. Before flying back, he rented a car and drove to Utah. We had him for just one day and we didn't want to waste a minute of it, so it was action packed. We called it the quattrothon. First, EDO took her favorite uncle for a five mile run. Second, I took him for a scramble to the natural bridge in Center Creek. Third, VSO took him skiing at Cedar Breaks. Fourth, we had him split five loads of firewood at The Homestead. As Glen rightly pointed out, it wasn't really fair. We took turns running him ragged.
I'll make a second post about the skiing, but this one is about the scrambling. We parked in fairly deep snow just below the natural bridge. It was cold in the canyon and we both wore winter clothes. Unfortunately the climbing become steep and strenuous—including a short, but manky, fifth-class solo—and the sun become warm. By the time we returned to the Chev, we were carrying most of our gear. One thing that is really interesting about the natural bridge is that it is actually two natural bridges, one of which you can stand in. Pictures here.
I heard that the Tushars may have received up to 30 inches of snow. Not here. But, what we got was enough for EDO to build a track on the Boy Scout Road. She did that yesterday while I was driving back from Price. Today we went out together and climbed to the top. The track was shaded and in good shape. We stayed at Treadmill Hill for three or four laps. The downhill glide brought smiles.
With a second comment—from Jess—regarding my absence from the viewfinder, I solicited more proof from VSO. She made these pictures last week. At top, I'm the speck on the right; EDO and I are peering into the White Roost. At bottom, I'm also on the right; EDO and I are seeking a route back to the Chev.
In sharing some pictures with Poppop, he commented that I never appeared in them. It is true: When you carry the camera, you're not often in the picture. It makes it seem as though you never attended the event. Well, today I have proof (above). Actually, today I was flying solo. The girls had to return to The Homestead for an art festival, so I went alone. I hiked from the sand slide to the Dirty Devil and up Pasture Canyon. It wasn't all that far as the crow flies, maybe six or eight miles, but the river crossing was cold and the sand traps were taxing. I was tired when I got back to the truck. Pictures here.
Today, we found the horse trail. Or, EDO did; I was going the wrong way. We reached the bottom of White Roost by 11:30a. It was a short day and we needed to be out by 1:15p at the latest. We hustled down river and rounded the corner with a view to the Middle Roost by 12:15p. The White Fork and the Middle Fork join to form the main stem: Robber's Roost Canyon. It was in view. We turned around. VSO had a head start, but, with EDO, I half-ran upstream. We reached GC2 at 1:15p! Pictures here.
We left Hanksville at 10a. We started down the White Roost at 11:30. After a mile, we were rimmed out (above). We hiked back to the plateau and spent the rest of the day trying to find a way into the canyon. The rule is "don't go down what you can't get back up." So, we failed. There were a few places, but we might have been stuck. At the end of the day, we scrambled up another narrow notch (below). There was a reason that Butch and the Kid liked retreating to this country after doing a job. More pictures here.
Today it was the Ark. Because the blocks at the top are so steep, I wasn't sure I could get up. I've tried before, from Center Creek, but got rimmed out. Today, I tried it from Bowery Creek. I walked to Henderson Hill. From there you can do it. It was a little more than five miles round trip. Twelve hundred vertical. After yesterday, twenty-five hundred feet of vertical combined, my legs felt tired.
I've been looking at this one for the last couple of weeks. Or maybe it has been the last couple of years. At any rate, I decided to try it today. Here it is: One thousand three hundred vertical feet; about three miles round trip. I left the Chev by 3p and got back before full dark.
Yesterday I made a long trudge up a very old road in one of the side drainages in Center Creek. I had accidently discovered the road a year or two ago, but had not gone to the top because there was too much snow at the time. There was very little snow yesterday, so I kept going up. Eventually I lost all sign of the road (I doubt it has been used as a road for at least fifty years) and thrashed my way up a draw into the saddle. There I found a perfect basin with a wetland that may have been a small lake many years ago. It was beautiful, but I had to hurry down because darkness comes early in mid-November.
Earlier this week we had a burn planned for a ponderosa pine stand near Monticello, Utah. The day was partly cloudy and cool, so I wasn't sure we'd get it. But, after four or five hours of dragging fire through the woods, I think we achieved our objectives.
EDO likes to run a loop at the Parowan Front WMU. It is about seven miles long, so it is a good one for a Sunday when she has a little extra time. Today, she invited me. As I've mentioned, I can't run with her, so I ride the bike. I guess I need one-a-them-go-pros, because it is difficult to ride and make pictures at the same time. We finished in exactly one hour.
EDO has been busy with school, work, cross country, and friends, so I have been doing most of my scrambling alone. But, today she came with me for a grind up Braffit Ridge.
We didn't carry the GPS, but I bet it was a thousand vertical feet to the top. The temperature was in the high 50s, which made for a sweat-fest on the ascent. When we came down, we had a chance to cool off, but the many drops were hard on my tired legs.
I planned to do four moves this year: One, from 420 Grand to Parowan (complete); two, Alice out of Harbor Circle (complete); three, from Parowan to Price (pictured); four, Alice to California or Texas (uncertain future). This weekend, I am finishing the third move. Today, EDO helped me clean out the storage unit. We took both trucks over there and some of it went into GC1 while the rest was heaped onto GC2. Another haphazard Joad-style load headed for Price.
I know this newspaper has way too many of these pictures. But, I can't help it. I'm a sucker for the strong light and long views. When I'm up on one of the ridges in the early fall sunshine—this time the Castle—out comes the camera. For the thousandth time.
For the past couple of weeks, I've returned from my afternoon outing and told the girls: "I've never been in that little wash before, I was so surprised to find it." After a while though, you can't keep saying it: If it happens all the time, it doesn't qualify as a surprise. At any rate, I was surprised by this one yesterday (above). I swear I've gotten up every weak spot in the wall of Little Creek Canyon at least twice, but not this one. Maybe it always appeared to be too steep?
On top, I had great views of Little Creek Peak (above) and of the Parowan Valley (below). The PV has, to paraphrase Wallace Stegner, been split and ruined by the interstate, which only gets busier and louder by the day. Maybe it doesn't seem so bad from this perspective, but, believe me, you can hear the roar of traffic very clearly from the ridgetop.
Earlier, I committed to cutting 12 truck loads. I met my commitment: Load 12 is pictured above. I almost feel like I should have earned a bit of doggerel: "You cut a dozen loads and what do you know? A couple of girls warm by the glow." At any rate, this is what the pile looks like.
Actually, this is what the pile looks like after an early blizzard struck this week. There should be a verse about that: "St. Peter won't you call me, I'm ready to go. I can die happy in this pile of snow."
EDO was helping me cut some firewood yesterday. I sawed most of the way through a standing, middle-sized cottonwood, leaving just a small hinge, but I couldn't wedge it over. It seemed to be hung up in the branches of a live Rocky Mountain juniper standing next to it. I decided I'd need to pull it down. I looped the old climbing rope that I carry as a tow strap around the trunk at about eight feet from the ground. EDO and I both tugged on it, but it wouldn't move. I hooked the rope to the Chev and drove away. The rope broke (above). Old climbing ropes can break, but not often: I've used them to tow vehicles. We decided on Plan B: Cut the juniper, too. EDO called it a mess. But it worked and we got both trees on the ground. While I was bucking, I found the problem (below). The cottonwood had grown completely around the juniper. They were not simply hung up, they were hugging.
