Trail Draw and Upper Pool Creek Canyon

John Hopkins 13::May::2010 22:07 → permalink

An Outward Bound group rafts in, and are lectured to in the Trex seating arranged for “camp fire talks” here in the campground. I find it really bizarre, when there a thousand ‘natural’ places to sit for a dialogue, they make a bee-line to the plastic composite seats. I guess they got lectured on the tamarisk mitigation work around Echo Park, I didn’t ask, as I was too busy prepping for the day. They later went into the woods between the campground and the river and were doing something. Wonder if they saw the carnage I wrought on the tamarisk behind site #7!

Batten everything down, and cycle out to look at the posted topo map, for a bit more orienteering info. Run into an older couple, chat with them a bit, they rafted in privately, and were looking for petroglyphs — the others in their group wandered up Lower Pool Creek Canyon to the ‘official’ petroglyph stop. I show them the really nice ones up the cliff face right there from the info stand with binocs. They are impressed. They are from Cedaredge, of all places, and are retired geoscience folks.

Cycle on up to one of the lower ranch fields, stash the bike behind some huge sage bushes, and head out.

First a long hike up Trail Draw, just to see what that intersection of the Red Rock and Mitten Park faults really looks like. Not enough time to actually go into the base of the intersection another mile or so along south-westward, that will wait for another visit. Find a nice cave in the up-turned Weber sandstone, a bit of a stretch to climb up and into it, but it makes a good lunch stop.

At one point, after climbing to another cave and coming down from the steeply faulted area, I arrived at a place. Looking down — a notable instance as I have been primarily looking up and around, especially when the trees are big enough to have substantial branches above eye level, branches that can harbor a 50-pound juvenile cougar practicing ambush predation — looking down, I see one chip, then two, then many more, they are very fine, very thin, of high quality chalcedony and jasper, then I see many more chips and worked stones. I hunt around the area, looking intently, and wondering at the quality and concentration, suddenly appearing like this, in a pretty random place, no caves nearby, no particular visual vantage. Anyway, nice objects in a particular place. Clearly made by someone who had significant and focused skill in the process.

Decide to curtail this part of the walk to a relatively short reconnoiter of Trail Draw and subsequently head into Upper Pool Creek Canyon at least as far as the fault line and the spring. But it’s too beautiful to stop, and although I have some serious predation vibes happening in the same place as three years ago on the Solstice, they finally dissipate as I go much further into the canyon than before. It’s extremely rugged at times. The wash above the spring shows recent and heavy flash-flood evidence, about five or ten feet up on each side, and there is plenty of drying red mud and wet pools. This was from Tuesday night’s flood. Would have been cool/harrowing to be up here at that time! I make it to an area below the really huge spire (+500 feet!) on the south side of the canyon, and see to the north side, a long and wide semi-circular bench, several of them higher up, but with debris fans that looked climbable. Make it to one, have a second snack, and then realize that I can get to a higher and much larger bench which has a good overhang. I make it up there, it runs along the canyon about 100 yards, and after exploring one end, I make it to the extreme other end to find a classic corn granary from Fremont times — mud-daubbed with cobbles, a wooden stick roof with mud on it. It’s mostly collapsed on itself, but the structure is clear, and there are even cobs of corn sitting on one side and the finger-prints of the maker in the sealing clay. Amazing to see this up here.

That caps the hike, and so I decide to slowly head back, with the final two miles a coast down the canyon on the bike — it’s been eight hours on the trail. Excellent weather, no bugs, no mountain lions or bears, too early for snakes. Only beetles, lizards and raptors and other birds.

Edges. Borders. Approaching the edge, approaching my edge, pushing you to your edge, going over the edge, edgy, close to the edge, walking a fine line: swerving onto the shoulder, drunk-bumps thumping and gravel flying, then across the shoulder into the guard rail, through that, launched into space, over the edge.

The edge is approached gingerly, or is stumbled upon without prior awareness. The edge gazed upon with either macro- or micro-scopic intention. Doesn’t make that much difference. To see the edge is to see the transformation of energy from one transitional state to another.

All roads lead to Rome. Because that’s the way it always has been.