Muley Point: A hike: Bears Ears III

2024-05-18

This is the follow-up to the Bears Ears II story:

After a particular morning, we have decided to take a walk out the jeep trail road that we are camped next to. It appears that all of those expensive camping rigs with their 4×4 capabilities have come on the graded road to the public campground just over the hill. We can see one rig and its occupant sitting on a folding chair in the distance, on top of the ridge. The newcomers and those leaving have all been missing the route that we have taken. We are all to ourselves. The road runs along this cliff side drop off. I’m not too sure how far. Today, I do know that it bends and heads north into the vast flat fields of the Bears Ears National Monument.

The temperature feels perfect; clothing would just be a waste.  Bodies confined now would be a retardant to the promised freedom that we anticipate. We certainly feel that freedom, as we prepare to go down a path to an even greater unbridled expanse and its experiences. We shall see what we shall see.

We have a game. We play leave everything as untouched as it was, no trace. Like the Starship Enterprise, we do our best to not interfere. It is an act of reverence and love.

The diminutive pinion pine and juniper are spaced around us.

We decide to stick to the beaten track. It is mostly a hard rock surface. There is little topsoil of effect; just some piled collected sand with a coating of cyanobacteria. A good measure of a healthy desert, this with other micro-bacteria, lichen and moss create a thin layer on soil that’s resistant to erosion. It is one of the oldest life forms on Earth, that which first created soil. It still does this in our deserts. These black coatings are precious, precarious, and give life, eventually.

When we walk off of the path, we sink into the sandy soil. One step has me wondering why it all doesn’t just wash away. We leave deep foot prints, so we intentionally change direction and walk on the exposed bedrock. There are numerous sandstone slabs lying about to use as stepping stones between fields of bedrock. This way, we avoid the destruction of the delicate biological matter.

https://www.nps.gov/articles/seug-soil-crust.htm

There are other camping spots all along the way. None are occupied. The lack of need for any clothing gives a delicious sense of bareness. I have neither extra weight, nor encumbrances in my hands. I can move noticeably more fluidly, more naturally and just be aware of the experience.

Eventually, we see that a side canyon is before us. We walk over to the edge, to a point where we can look down, to see how large it is.

Much more shallow here, its floor drops quickly. It is a box canyon surrounded by a plain of rock slab.

We soon find ourselves sitting and enjoying the peace and quiet between the wind gusts.  It is not too cold, or too hot. It is just right, fit for a Mama bear. We lay down to bask in the moment’s gift.

We learn that the sandstone is a treat for bare feet. Sitting naked butts upon it, we notice that it doesn’t heat up as fast as the granite that we are used to. All of it is a good temperature. We wisely take our shoes off into barefoot all over.

There are also fewer plants giving off the litter of prickers. We walk along the cliff side rock a half of a mile, until it runs out. Our path weaves as the rock slabs and stepping stones direct us. The up/down grooves of this uneven rock are a treat. It grips well and provides a healthy sensual delight, actually a pleasure to walk on.

In many spots, the groove’s cracking of rock have collected enough dust and biology to sustain meager yet tough rows of plants leading off of the cliff.

Years of erosion have created ponding.

The black surfaces and dust coagulated into cracking mud through time have created these bowls.  

Many of these still have water in them.

Sand lies within small rocks, sifting in the pools like gold prospecting pans might. The bigger heavier pieces rise to the top, sitting alone in the air, dusted off by the wind and rain.

Carpets of thick lichen are draped across bedrock.

Everywhere, there are unfamiliar species of plant-life in bloom.

When the bedrock shelf route disappears, to put shoes back on, we stop to sit on a welcoming rock. We then continue on the rough jeep track. It feels very good out here, alive.

I finish the walk back to camp in joy. Today, I’m another year older and still here on this fantastic Earth to celebrate in my birthday suit. I take off jogging and then break into a run back to camp, just to celebrate.

There is little shade here. The sun reflects heat from the rock and has become bright in the afternoon.  I find a clear place in the cozy bush-like shade of a pine tree to wait out the intense sun and to write. The air continues to blow through the tree, the shade cools it.

When I’m done writing, DF invites me over to a larger spot that she has found and has been sitting and reading. We are at rest together. I play guitar in the shade of her tree’s nest. It feels like another little living space in a garden, another room in our home.

A little guitar, one note and one cord at a time, I’m pleased to just make stuff up. We enjoy an early dinner, a walk, chocolate and then, we read to each other in bed. As in so many bedtime moments to come after this first, we read Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire.” It is such an appropriate choice.

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