Arch Canyon II

Bears Ears XIII

2024-05-25

Continuation of Bears Ears XII

When we left off last time, we had been exploring Arch Canyon’s ruins. We have a goal in mind up the road that should keep us busy for the next few days. Fellow explorers on quads have disappeared. We are left happily enjoying the air, sun and sense of free ranging freedom. Encounters with others will be very few from here.

Driving on down this challenging 4×4 route, my neck is getting sore and my back tired from the strain. I consciously let up on my grip, but I must also keep a sustained alert eye out for sharp objects and other obstacles. There is a constant turning of the wheel on the up/down weaving thread of a trail, avoiding the potential for catastrophe.  We are not alone. ATV’s and well-appointed jeeps are out here, too.

The road is absolutely narrow, and the brush thick. Anyone sharing the route must pull off to the side and there are few spots for that. At one point, a string of professional looking jeeps have pulled off of the side of the trail. They are politely making room for us. I’m thinking that our lone truck would be the one to yield.

There is a young serious looking woman in the driver seat, with a well matched male co-pilot next to her. We wrap up to a street legal attire to accept their courteous gesture. She stops us as we pass, looking down into our cab. She announces that they have communicated with the others behind them with radio devices. We are told that there are more of them, positioned to allow our passage.

Several jeeps later, we are smiling at the last one. I’m thinking that I’m glad that we got covered. These people in a group with high tech equipment and communication certainly had their game together.

I had asked the leader if there was camping anywhere ahead, but informed, “No, all of the spots are taken.” There seems to be a crowd ahead, where we thought that we might find solitude…oh well. I ask about the condition of the road, I’m tired and don’t want to get into more than I want to handle. They a considered canning look at our 4runner, it’s dirt, mud and need of a buff out and pronounce that there is nothing up there that our “rig can’t handle.” This old truck gets a lot of respect. But I can’t say that about my old body. I’m feeling exhausted and pain is setting in. There are more miles of this arduous slow going.

A Change of Plans:

I find a spot to stop near the stream. It is time to rest. I’m thinking that we might just stay here and then make the rest of the trip tomorrow. There is no real level ground and just hard sand and stone. I find a small adequate spot where we might squeeze in a tent between bushes. I look for a few river rocks to secure the tent, if a wind picks up. There is a predicted chance of a rain storm. A black snake slithers between my bare legged stance, as I mentally measure the parameters.

But first, we need to stretch and some fun exploration is due. We take some cloth in hand and head down to the creek. The place spreads out here. We’re looking up at an amazing hoodoo tower and the orange structures of the sharp steep canyon walls.

The trickle of the stream leaves some ponding. Next to this sits a flat boulder, which shows its self to be a pleasant place to bask in sun and find rest and peace. There are a few slabs of the sandstone to sit on.

The walk isn’t very long, we have a camp to set up and hunger is tapping us on the shoulder. This has been a busy day.

We do joke about finding one of the arches of “Arch Canyon.” It is only a bent tree.

We notice several dark clouds up above the canyon walls creeping into view. There is supposed to be that slight chance of thunderstorms. As I’m beginning to set camp and DF is getting some eats prepared, they grow larger and darker, looking more threatening. A light rain begins to fall. It could be a storm coming to us, hidden by the tall canyon. The intensity increases as we pack up. I don’t want to be in this flood zone in a remote situation. Here, the canyon walls can leak torrents of waterfalls and the floor fills into a flash flood. There is a threat, but it is uncertain. The creek and sand can make mud and this has been a tough drive as it is. I don’t want to deal with that kind of arduous adventure. I just want to hike and explore the wonders of nature.

With no good prospects of a campsite and a crowd of 4×4 tourist partying at the trailheads, my worn state and now rain, we decide to drive out and hope to have a good campsite. If this is the last chance to drive the trail, it would still be a fine backpacking trip, at another time.

We make it back down through the canyon in record time, seemingly much quicker. I suppose that it has something to do our perception changing with the end result in mind, or perhaps like an old horse trotting back to the barn.

A wonderful sight, our campsite is still there, no squatters!

We do arrive exhausted. DF has counted 27 wet crossings and 17 dry, a total of 44 careful suspenseful crawls. That is just driving one way.

I had been surprised by a loud bump during one crossing. I discover that my chrome bumper is dented in, bent…That’s okay, I suppose. It now matches the other side, nearly the perfect twin. Its blemish sits with me like a trophy, similar to the notion that a 4×4 truck isn’t properly broken in, until it gets its first Arizona pinstripe. Perhaps this is a strange rationale to deny that I’m just too tired to care at this point. I’ll see how I feel about it in the morning. There is no use in being upset about things that you can’t do anything about, anyway.

I had also heard a thumping, like something is loose. I don’t want to leave part of the SUV somewhere along a road. I’d better check. Getting the pad that we brought for nude working under the car, I groan as I slowly lower my aching body and slide under the truck’s rear bumper. I know that the position on my back will most likely be resistant to standing back up, preferring to rest like a corpse.

The probing of my fingers diagnoses the sound. The spare tire has been jarred loose. No longer snug, it is dangling by its steel cord. Reluctantly, I roll out, grinding my way into the rehearsed ritual of digging for the tools, which are buried under everything else. In this case a compartment under the buried back seat, like the fuel tank in an old Model T.

Again, I’m crawling back down and under, as the collected powdery dust sprinkles out of the crevasses under the carriage onto my face and torso. I look to DF standing bent above, behind the bumper, straddling my legs, ready to turn the crank. I spit powder and then spit again, “Okay, turn.”

Mission nearly accomplished, satisfied, lying on my back upon the earth, naked under a truck, I have to accept that I can’t just stay here. I’ve got to make yet another camp and eat. I’ll sleep well, later.

It has certainly been a pleasant surprise to discover the campsite, that we left this morning, is still available.  Again, we set up camp to hide our bodies from the other sites. The equipment to secure those other sites still lays in a pile unused.  The owners have not shown up to trouble our privacy. We feel lucky that they haven’t shown. Comfortably, we still have no neighbors, other than that guy on top of the hill.

We sit naked in our camp chairs, holding hands, caressed all over with evening air. I lean my head back in a stretch and look up into the tall trees and sky beyond. I smell healthy air, breathe in deeply and sigh. This being alive is so good. Thank-you.

Several disappointed travelers have driven by looking for a place to camp. The rouse of abandoned equipment has been effective. Before sundown, young couple with two or three loud kids show up and light a campfire. Then their friends congregate over near them and away from their “stuff’s” original location, which had been closer to us. They really didn’t want that real-estate, or anyone else.

With the kids, they are not partiers, at least not late-nighters and it gets quiet and peaceful, until morning. We have had a good day of intermittent clothing, mostly nude, just a bit chilly at first. This is an adventure well worth the difficulties.

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