Arches Canyon I

Bears Ears XII

2024-05-25

We got to the mouth of Arch Canyon in time, happy to get a spot under a tall shady cottonwood stand. There’s a colorful stone wall face on one side and an actual ancient ruin next door.

I found this canyon on a map in a travel book. There are several archeological sites in the vicinity. The scenery is as is the usual in southeastern Utah, beautiful and rugged. There is a 12 mile 4×4 road running through the length of the canyon, which ends at a view of an iconic stone arch. I figure that there will be a spot or two around there to car camp, for a few days. Also, at the end of that road, are three feeder canyons. We can hike one nude each day. It looks remote enough to get away from the Labor Day Weekend crowds. Well, that is the initial plan, but things change.

Abandoning our camp to go up the canyon feels risky. Under these huge trees, this is a great camp on a busy weekend. It is a lucky find to just discard and drive away from. We still can’t be sure what we’re heading into, but chances will be taken and we’re on our way.

We’ll have to avoid the impassible.

I drive directly to the first creek crossing and into the creek bed.

I scouted it out last evening. The old road leads upstream on the river rock surface. This bed has more the feel of old cobblestone, save an occasional larger piece of rock sticking up. I weave a route around the errant broken chunks to avoid their ka-bump and the chances of a sidewall puncture.

Quickly, we are on the jeep trail. I pass by the eroded section, which I also discovered in the last evening’s light and simply drive as far away from the edge as I can. As I was walking, I had passed by and saw that that edge doesn’t fall straight down. The bend in the creek has been tunneling under. Driving too close on the sandy substance of it, there could be a cave-in and roll a vehicle, crashing into a wet 12 foot drop.

The road begins to twist tightly around a forest of tree trunks. I take care, watching to not to lose a rear-view mirror, or worse, sideswipe a tree.

Soon, we dip into the first of many creek crossings.  The shady forest eventually gives way to sunlight, grass and smaller trees. We are in new territory that I have not scouted. I hadn’t expected the canyon’s ecosystem to get so dry.

The forest must be created by an underground bowl, where it drinks stored water; perhaps an underground dam collects the moister.

Opening up, this reveals many fallen rocks and boulders and the steep canyon walls, which get taller as we travel along.

The sand hasn’t let up. Each time the trail bends into the creek, there is a deep gouge in the material. The road depth is sometimes as high as my head. I’m sitting high up in a cab that is on oversized tires and lifted suspension, yet this feels tunnel-like, three to six feet deep. It curves like a shoot on a roller coaster. Each of these shoots is very thin, even for my 4runner.  A wider regular sized pickup truck couldn’t fit. If I were to stall, I couldn’t even open the doors to get out.

At most creek crossings, I can’t cautiously get out and pre-inspect the road. I feel the sense of risk at every crossing, tense and ready to correct in an instant, if need be. Generally, I can figure that if the last guy drove through this, then it is most likely safe to proceed, but things always change. Grades get steeper, rocks wash through and beds get cut deeper, or fill with sand with every hard rain. I realize that these grooves have been created by ATV’s on their many joy rides. Their thick traction tires spin at a quicker rpm, digging. Any kind of obstacle could suddenly appear.

There is no time for photos. DF just holds on, as she bounces about.

I traverse many steep gullies into the wet creek. Generally, I have to drive into the creek sideways, on an angle, tipping, so that I don’t bend, scrape, or mash my bumper, or trailer hitch, or avoid getting stuck hung up. I have deflated my tires. Often, I am best keeping momentum and not stopping. I can’t always be sure what sharp objects are below the surface of the water.

I endure enough of this to require stopping to pull off, my body is tired from the 4×4 low range driving. The stress has created tension in my body, as my muscles have needed strength. It has been anything but relaxing. Here, there is a wider piece of the road.  I see a wire rope to keep people from driving off-road and destroying the plant life. The black lichen, which holds down the sand is precious and delicate. This makes a parking area, with no signage. There is only a mysterious stake with a warning about damaging artifacts.  

We find that a walking trail leads to a fun ruin.

There are tall stone masonry walls under a concave part of the canyon walls. Building under the indentation protects the structures. These will often form arches after millennia. I have read of three or four ruins along the way and this is the first of them.

This ruin appears to have been well built. There are double layers of what we find to be well executed masonry walls. Some appear to have existed before the decision to add more rooms.

There are holes for viga logs to create another story, and some are perhaps part of a roof’s structure.

I’ve read that some of these roofs were living areas. The stone and stucco construction reminds me of old medieval European castles.

There is the natural wall and then the stone construction comes out from these, creating rooms. These original natural rock walls are engraved with petroglyphs, perhaps during the idle downtime of a long winter.

These are carved deeper than the scratched images that we typically see in Arizona.

We know that some are granaries and some are habitations. The difference is known by the black soot from warm cooking fires on the ceilings.

There are a series of holes carved high into and leading up the natural walls.

Perhaps they are moki steps, perhaps these aid the structure for a multistory construct.

Whatever, entire walls fell down at some point. Probably mindless vandalism has a frequent role in the destruction. Perhaps the hate and disdain of white peoples motivates destruction as an emotional outlet. It is difficult for me to fathom, why people do these things.

We are examining what may be fake art on a wall, when we are interrupted. For once, we are not having to take the time to slip over some coverings. There is still a tad morning chill. A nice out of shape couple have arrived on quads. Being perched above in these ruins, we look down onto their arrival next to our SUV.

They are busy with an inspection of shorter duration as we continue.

When we all walk back together, there is a third member, a daughter, sitting on the back of her dad’s small vehicle. She is too obese to get on and off the small quad without an ordeal.  As they leave, they almost pop an inadvertent wheelie with the large passenger on the back! He mentioned that he is nervous about some of the very steep inclines, where they might flip over backwards. This is their loving family, their child obviously a victim of mental disease and needing special care.

There are piles of fallen wall’s materials at these sites, but clues still abound. Some are subtle. Holes were created up high on the cliff faces above. These had to be for structures, some supporting roofs, some perhaps anchors to support disappeared walls.

There is a pile of the type of stone that we found miles away at our first discovery. These reddish type of fragments used for arrowheads are here, but also the material is in larger rocks about, naturally imbedded into the ground. As I look around and see the larger pieces in the geology, I’m suspecting that this could be a part of the source of them. They could have been traded, or distributed from here. This could have been a wealthy, or at least an important area, with deposits of this kind of uncommon trading treasure.

There was obviously a significant complex here. Perhaps, as the first stronghold, it guarded the rest of the canyon. The construction shows us how the complex probably evolved. There are different construction styles from different architects. Different materials are used. I suspect that some types are due to availability and some by choice.

Some walls are interlaced block, while others are stacked up and buttressed. Some lack lentils, where others have wooden ones, or a long heavy piece of stone. The adobe mud, as a mortar in-between the stones, is placed more artfully or carefully in some places than others.

There must be some evolution of construction knowledge.  I have read that different peoples used these habitations in different eras, over 14,000 years. I reason that perhaps the style reflects that, as much as the individual’s personalities and priorities. Perhaps the availability of construction materials, stone, earth, water, ash, wood varied across time.

The stucco bears witness to ancient fingers, which have left traces in the stucco in a high corner.

There is a double wall that was an addition and became a second story and maybe a third and fourth. The ceilings are often short, efficient for trapping warmth in winter and insulating cool in summer.

There are small holes where the tips of sticks, perhaps arrows were sanded down, or fire started.

There are areas with round holes in solid rock, where grain, other food, or apothecary, was ground. Perhaps dye, or paint was manufactured in them.

Spots to sand down arrow shafts are seen.

We take off, looking for the next spot and another ruin. We have been holding back, hoping to allow the two quads to get far enough ahead to reinstate our privacy.  After all, everything is better when done nude and the warmth of the sun is smiling at us. The more naked, I get a better feel for this place. I more easily project myself into the feet of the ancients who certainly stood here with skin bared to the summer’s heat.

The next spot, up the road, is a smaller ruin under a smaller ledge. As we approach, we see it up above, hiding behind the local trees. It has been a granary with a habitable structure. It has an aura of a nice loving home. The stone construction had a layer of smooth mud about it, melding into the surroundings.

Inside, we see a fire pit in the corner of the room with venting holes nearby, like a kiva would be constructed.

I remember the Grateful Dead’s bruho, Rolling Thunder, who came from near here, tell me that there was always smoke and smoking in his house. It was believed to cleanse spirits.

There is a small hole, just big enough to draw air and provide a window to the west.

It’s a safe size, to keep the unwanted out, to observe and to protect. These adobe inner walls have shelves built into them, for convenience, or to display.

Someone smart, settled and probably important, got to live here. I’m imaging a leader, or perhaps a holy or shamanic healer, but who could know?

This is not very far above the surface of the level field below and so not easily defended. It was surely built during a more stable time, or it was defended by an association with some larger ranging power. The granaries were storage, protecting from theft, human, or animal and sealed.

The position here does look out upon a larger area, a wider part of the canyon where plenty of fields could be cultivated.

As I stand, I can imagine lots of crops out there and amongst them, perhaps the huts of those who worked this place during rainy seasons. Tall corn, vines of squash and beans, agave and herbal bushes, with pleasant dirt paths amongst it. There are still some of these plants growing, now wild.

There is a pleasant vibe here, something left over, along with these clues, remnants of a life and family.

The two quads have turned back, as the road is too dangerous.

There’s another ruin. This one is different than the others. The stones are varied in color and more checkerboard.

They are built on ledges looking to me as precarious. I couldn’t see placing all of that weight on a natural shelf that is crumbling, but they have lasted through time. Perhaps dumb luck, perhaps they knew something that I don’t….

(TO BE CONTINUED)…a couple of days….

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