Desert Daze - A Southwest Adventure (IX)

Part Nine: Exploring Planet Coyote North & The Wave

I am up and out of Hotel Truck well before dawn, excited about the prospects of the coming day. As it turns out, it’s a good thing I awoke early; navigating a dark, damp wash by headlamp beam, I miss the turnoff to Coyote Buttes at first, adding about two miles to my hike. I wouldn’t have stood a chance to make it in there for sunrise, as was my plan, without the extra early start.

Actually, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing if I had just kept going down this wash instead of turning around; I would have ended up in Buckskin Gulch. According to what I’ve read, Buckskin is the longest and deepest slot canyon in the entire Southwest, the canyon by which all other slot canyons are judged. I do want to explore it sometime for sure, but just not today.

Backtracking, I find the turnoff, easily missed by a single, narrow beam probing the dark, but now obvious in first light. After an uneventful mile or so of hiking, I climb up over a ridge and, Voila!, the otherworldly landscape of CB is revealed to me just as the sun’s corona peaks up over the horizon.

Perfect timing. In my estimation, there is nary a better place in the entire universe to be than here, now; from where I’m standing, fantastical formations are spread out before me as far as the eye can see. As if on cue, namesake coyotes again provide the soundtrack for a magic moment; I am privileged to hear their peculiar yelps, yips and yodels more often during this trip than all my other previous western adventures combined.

Now I again begin pushing one boot clad foot in front of the other over the rocky terrain. My feet feel heavy, as if they are encased in cement; I suddenly realize just how tired my legs are. This is the sixth straight day I'll be hiking at least eight miles – strenuous miles of ups and downs and clambers over rocks, ridges and ravines, all at relatively high elevations. Of course it’s my own fault that my feet are fading, not only do I choose challenging routes, but my unstoppable drive to explore often takes me off trail, adding miles to my original plan every time. The up side: I'll be in great shape by the end of this trip!

I also haven’t been drinking enough water. The high, dry desert, even in winter, sucks the moisture right out of your body; you don’t even realize you’re perspiring because your sweat is immediately wicked off your skin. Many people who move to arid places from wetter climes eventually form kidney stones due to constant dehydration; I once read that people are seven times more likely to develop kidney stones in the Southwest than in other parts of the country.

Intriguing formations abound along the route to The Wave, all calling out desperately to have me explore them, but I am one-focused. Actually, I am being selfish; I want The Wave all to myself for at least a little while and if I go straight there, I should be able to have some time alone before any of the other nineteen hikers show up. (Only twenty permits are issued to explore CB each day. By imposing this strictly-enforced limit, it is hoped that wear and tear will be kept to a minimum, sandstone is very fragile.)

Next: On to 'The Wave'

Desert Daze - A Southwest Adventure (VIII)

Part Eight: Exploring Planet Coyote – South

(Scroll down to start with Part One)

Absotively posilutely (same word!) fantabulous. Oh no!, I’ve sunk to using funny but frivolous portmanteau words that really don’t tell you anything. I’m running out of superlatives to describe these places; even my good friend thesaurus isn’t much help anymore. Did you know that it was the author Lewis Carroll (real name: Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. How’s that for a mouthful? Try saying that ten times fast…) who first used the word portmanteau in this sense? (It also means ‘a large, double compartmented suitcase’). In his book Through the Looking-Glass, Humpty Dumpty explains to Alice the coinage of the unusual words in Jabberwocky: ’Slithy’ means ‘lithe and slimy’... You see it's like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up into one word. ‘Mimsy’ is ‘flimsy and miserable’ (there's another portmanteau ... for you)". The word itself is a portmanteau derived from porter (to carry) and manteau (mantle).


Anyway, as I said - fantabulous. I round a bend in the trail and suddenly, there they are – dozens of large twisted and tortured red rock ‘teepees’ looming before me. Hard to believe that these curious creations, in fact, the whole of the Colorado Plateau - an area larger than the Sahara Desert, once lay far away, near the equator and at a much lower elevation. The Colorado Plateau, which of course, wasn’t yet a plateau at that time, just a large desert, lay in a belt of strong trade winds, which blew quartz sand into dunes. Gradually, the dunes were buried and, under pressure, solidified into sandstone. Later, the whole area was thrust up, twisted and shoved north by plate tectonics, the interaction of ginormous (love that portmanteau!) plates deep beneath the earth’s surface. The uplifted area then weathered down, exposing the formerly buried sandstone we see now. Why the incredible colors you ask? I’ll get to that question in the next post…

South Coyote Buttes, when compared to North is relatively unexplored. For example, twenty people have permits to explore North today (and most every day) while I’m the only soul in South; I have the place to myself (yes!) Why the difference in interest? North has a truly standout formation called ‘The Wave’, (images to come) which is quickly becoming world famous. I read recently that ‘The Wave’ was featured in a German movie and that, as a result, many Germans venture hoping to visit it in person. While South may not have ‘The Wave’, it has its own collection of awetastic (hmmm, don’t like that one, sounds too much like autistic) formations and the solitude will be an added bonus; it’ll feel like true wilderness.

Wandering around in an awe-struck state with no plan in mind, I stumble upon a huge amphitheatre of twisted rock hidden away between some buttes where you’d never expect to find it; I suspect others miss it entirely. That would be a shame, its walls have some of the best striation patterns I’ve seen anywhere.

At this point, I could continue to attempt to describe what I see here in words, but I think I’d rather just let my pictures tell the rest of the story. Suffice to say that this is a most fanciful place, very ‘Alice-in-Wonderland’ (Lewis Carroll again!) in its otherworldliness.

After a wonderful day of hiking, climbing and clambering, I trudge back to my vehicle (at least it’s downhill this time!), then repair to my campsite. Despite the knowledge that I will be soon enduring yet another cold night in Hotel Truck, I am in good spirits; the thought that tomorrow I will be one of the privileged twenty who get to explore North Coyote Buttes keeps me warm. It’ll be a short night anyway, I’ll be getting up very early to be the first one in so I can spend some alone time with ‘The Wave’.

Next – Exploring Planet Coyote – North and ‘The Wave’

Desert Daze - A Southwest Adventure (VII)

Part Seven: Like Being On Another Planet

I pay the price for camping in winter in the high desert in an uninsulated van yet again. By 3am, my feet are frozen stiff and I try in vain to pull the blankets closer. It’s no use; I must get up and move. I take a moonlit hike, a brisk amble to get my blood flowing down the road that got me here.

This need to move turns out to be a good thing; it’s a beautiful night. I glide through the crystalline air warming up quickly, soon forgetting I was ever cold. Sparkling stars and a sliver of a moon provide all the light I need. I reach an apex in the road and stop to look around. It’s dead still and completely silent without my footfalls, I can hear my own heart beat. Above me, the Milky Way is painted in a great swath across the sky. Glittering stars reach all the way down to the horizon in every direction. Out of corner of my eye, a shooting star streaks across the black canvas. Suddenly, I am swept up into it all, into the vastness, floating amongst the stars, tethered to nothing. This is what they must mean when they say you feel you are ‘one with the universe.’ I am it and it is me. Pure magic.

The spell is broken when some coyotes set up howl in the distance, bringing me back to earth. I now notice the first faint glow of morning on the horizon; it’s time to return and prepare for the day ahead. I have permits to explore the adjacent wilderness areas known as Coyote Buttes South and North today and tomorrow. I explored the North area once in the past – it’s the closest I have ever come (and probably ever will) to being on another planet. The rocks are all twisted and layered into unbelievable shapes and patterns and the colors… well, suffice to say that they’re likewise almost unbelievable– deep reds, lovely pinks, soft yellows, vibrant oranges, pastel creams and all shades in between, like nothing else I’ve seen on this earth. I know I probably overuse the word, but I can think of no better to describe Coyote Buttes: surreal. Sublimely surreal.

Today’s permit is for the South area; this will be my first time there, it’ll be all new. I always get extremely excited, like a child about to open a present on his birthday, whenever I am going somewhere new - I can hardly stand the anticipation. Actually, the child and his present is a great analogy: this life spent exploring Mother Nature’s bountiful treasure chest is a wonderful gift to me from all those who support my work; I feel great gratitude for this.

The BLM ladies informed me yesterday that the trail to the buttes is 2.5 miles long, all uphill and extremely sandy. I park at the trailhead and begin the slog. They are right, especially about the sand. Another two steps forward, one step back type of a hike which makes for a long 2.5 miles, especially at this elevation. Very tiring, but as I round a bend about halfway there, a few of the fantastical rufous buttes pop into view in the distance, providing me with all the motivation I need to keep plodding ahead.

Next – Exploring Planet Coyote - South

Desert Daze – A Southwest Adventure (VI)

Part Six: Troughs, Tables and Technology

It’s getting dark and I must find somewhere to park Hotel Truck to sleep. I spy on the map the remote Stateline Campground just off the road I will hike from the next two days. The enthusiastic women in the BLM office told me that this road (called House Rock Valley Road) is passable by two wheel drive vehicles but, setting out on it, I immediately have my doubts. It’s extremely rutted, some so deep they’re more like troughs, forcing me to drive at a snail’s pace staying high on the dried-out top ridges to avoid scraping the undercarriage. Cringing as I creep forward, I expect at any moment to hear the dreaded screech of metal on rock. I bottom out the van several times and each time I look back fearing the worst – a trail of oil stretching out behind me. It never happens; we survive the drive, Hotel Truck and me, but it’s a loooooong 8 ½ miles.

As I drive into the campground, a little sign informs me I have left Arizona and entered Utah, hence the name, Stateline. It has picnic tables – hooray! My kingdom for a picnic table! I think about just how much that means to me right now - a place to eat, sit, open up a suitcase, and to type in these words. How interesting it is that in today’s gadget-intensive society that something so simple as a place to park my butt could mean so much, miles away from civilization as I am. And that's just the way I like it on these trips, primitive, where the simple is significant; it really helps me connect.

I have the place to myself, as usual; it’s just too darn cold at night for most people to consider camping. I pour myself a glass of fine red wine and wander the campground, basking in the faint glow of last light, admiring the red-rock hills surrounding me while enjoying John Huling’s heavenly ‘Spiritlands’ album on my iPod - this beautiful music has become the soundtrack for this trip.

OK, I admit it - there are two modern gadgets I can’t live without on these adventures any more. The first is the just mentioned iPod – what a great invention. So much music, so portable; for personal listening, it just can’t be beat. The other gadget I always bring along is the similarly named iPaq. By today’s standards, the iPaq is ancient technology (I acquired it in 2002), but it serves my needs wonderfully – it’s a ‘Pocket PC’ that I use to input and store my notes. It and the foldable keyboard I purchased along with it are so small that I can store them in my backpack ready to be whipped out at any time I need to capture some fleeting thought that I surely would forget otherwise. You may ask why I don’t just take a small notebook in which to jot down my notes - if you saw my handwriting you’d understand why. Even I can’t decipher it any more; I’m so used to typing on a keyboard that writing makes me impatient and my handwriting suffers. Badly. Besides, with the iPaq I can easily then transfer my notes to my laptop or home computer to work with them – sure beats typing everything in from hand-written notes!

Next – Like Being On Another Planet

Desert Daze - A southwest Adventure (V)

Part Five: Hoodoo Redux Two - Dali's Dream

(Scroll down to start with Part One)

It's like coming home, I’ve dreamed about getting back here ever since I stumbled upon it years ago. So surreal, it’s like being inside a Salvatore Dali painting – the impossible hoodoos, melting rocks, smooth patina and intense colors all contribute to the unreality of the place. I call it ‘Dali’s Dream’ – surely, he would have been proud to sculpt something like this. But Mother Nature’s not through yet, it’s still a work-in-progress - I tread lightly.

Hidden high up in a hanging canyon, you’d never know it was here. I’ve seen nary another footprint on either visit - I wonder if anyone else knows about it? If not, that’s even better - what nature lover doesn’t fantasize of finding their very own ‘secret garden’?

I stumbled upon Dali’s Dream while trying to find a way up a cliff to get closer to some toadstool hoodoos I’d seen sitting high atop a wall near here. Driven by my desire to commune with the magic mushrooms, I paid no attention to how I wound up in Dali’s Dream and soon found darkness closing in around me with no escape plan. Nearly froze to death in paradise.

What a fitting end that would’ve been – like I always say, if I die while adventuring, I died doing what I love. They say that in the final stages of hypothermia, the victim no longer feels any pain; in fact, it’s reported that one often experiences intense feelings of well-being, contentedness and bliss, sometimes paradoxically shedding their clothes just before they lay down to begin their next big adventure.

Obviously, I did find a way down but I’ve longed to come back ever since. I’ve wanted to see if this fantastical place would give me the same extraordinary feelings of being inside a dream it did the first time – and the answer is an emphatic ‘yes.’

Alas, when you have found Shangri-la, you never want to leave. But I must, I have permits to explore two more unreal places the next two days and it’s getting late. Déjà vu. Except this time I know my way out…

Next – Troughs, Tables and Technology

Desert Daze – A Southwest Adventure (IV)

Part Four:

'Hoodoo

Redux'

(Scroll down to start with Part One)

As Dr. Suess might have said: 'Whew! Hoodoo beaucoup! It's true, more than two, more than just a few! Who knew? Did you?’

Who knew there were so many hoodoos? They are found all over the Southwest, indeed, throughout the world – if you know where to look. Hoodoos are erosional towers left in place when a hard cap rock (generally a boulder or cobble) protects a column of more erodable sediment beneath. Thus, while the material surrounding the hoodoo is washed away by direct rainfall and surface erosion, the hoodoo stands, sometimes just an isolated one or two, sometimes whole ‘fields’ of them. They come in a great many varieties – tall, short, skinny, fat, rough, smooth, white, red, gray (and all shades in between), etc. – every hoodoo is unique and every location is unique, all it takes for the possibility of hoodoos is a harder layer of rock above a softer layer.

My first priority upon arriving in Kanab, Utah on this most pleasant morning is to visit the local BLM (Bureau of Land Management) office. It is from these knowledgeable men and women who staff the offices that I often get good information about unique places to hike and shoot. These rangers know their area well and are happy to share their knowledge – I guess I’d be happy too, with a job like theirs.

This time I’ve come specifically for permits to hike into Coyote Buttes where the semi-famous ‘Wave’ formation is located (more on Coyote Buttes and The Wave later.) I get my permits to explore the Buttes tomorrow and the day after leaving me with the rest of today to poke around elsewhere – I go hoodoo hunting.

I visit two locations. The first area is called ‘The Toadstools’; it is a hike featured in the BLM’s Grand Staircase-Escalante visitor information pamphlet and has an actual trail. It’s all new to me; this is my first visit. The hoodoos vary from white with red capstones to all red. There are three main sets, each different. The first bunch I encounter are red with a little striping, sitting high atop a base of furrowed bright white sandstone. The change from white to red is abrupt, there isn't any transition zone; I wonder why that is (anybody?)

A short distance away, another group sits beneath an imposing white cliff, mostly red again with slightly darker capstones. For some reason, this group brings to mind the ‘Flintstones’, that old cartoon TV show from the sixties. There’s something cartoonish and slightly absurd about hoodoos, as if someone with a goofy, but fun-loving sense of humor created them. They always make me smile.

The third set is hidden away and, if you’re not the curious type like me, you could easily miss them - I suspect many do. As opposed to the other two all-red sets, these have white columns.

Speaking of my curiosity, a few years ago it led me to stumble upon a truly surreal place that I am quite sure not many know about. This magical place is the second hoodoo location I visit today…

Next – Hoodoo Redux Two - Dali's Dream