The Actual Fish Mouth

Bears Ears XXIII

2024-05-31

For Pizza:

We’re about to leave civilization again, Blanding, Utah. We have waited all day for the mobile wood fired pizza trailer to exude the aroma of a classy tasty slice, or two, or three.

There is no seating for this restaurant. We’re sitting on the door stoop of a nameless building, a hollow store with windows that reveal only a waiting opportunity for a mercantile idea. The evening sun beams in, exposing old dusty carpet and a path leading to dark shadows beyond.

Before us, framed by old sidewalk concrete, sits a typical flat oil soaked cardboard carton, Americana, with the familiar golden color of roasted baked cheese.

Soon, a fitting notion of appropriate desert will find us around the corner at the end of a too slow line for a chocolate covered frozen banana.

Earlier that day, there was some quick business finding the proper common tool at one of the best stocked Ace Hardware ever. Right next door happens to be the ice-cream shop. DF indulges my gluttony now and then, as I falter at the consumption of a rather larger than expected bucket of Huckleberry, she helps me out with a very small plastic spoon. Civilization is tempting.

We had spent the afternoon wandering in a wonderful dinosaur museum. After those encounter’s with ancient tracks in the bedrock, we have found another aspect of history to be fascinated with. It is fun.

The prehistoric critters are stunningly huge.

A flying bug’s remnants look enough to have ability to carry off anything that a large raptor might.

We had expected less, but the place is quite serious and we now have more valuable information to apply to our walkings. We leave with a better sense and understanding of the terrain that we are visiting.

We are leaving, going into raw nature, after a couple of days of nice small town people, pleasant  tidy newish homes on incredibly wide streets and its one intersection light, a four way stop. We pass our refuge with its hot water showers and chilled fruit flavored Pellegrino and then that ominous sign warning a foreboding 121 miles to the next services.

In contrast to the comfort of the community, there is a sense of adventure, freedom and health on this, the open highway. As we cruise, we wriggle out of our protection against the consequences of uniform conformity. From opened windows, the dry air circulates around us, sensually cooling and caressing, as bare skin adapts. A barrier is lifted allowing natural symbiosis, an intimate mutualism in a close reunion.

We find a campsite perhaps a mile across a valley from where, tomorrow, will be our morning’s first hike.

The big cave, looking as if an open fish mouth, looms in the distance. We have a light healthy snack and climb into our cozy open air cocoon when the sky turns dark. Another short reading out loud to each other of Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” and we drop off, during a last look up at the blanket of stars.

Beginning:

At first light, we are stumbling around ½ asleep in the cool morning air. I slept, just in case, in a grey long sleeve t-shirt. It is comfortable now, so I decide to just make that my “morning into the heat of the day” attire. I add shoes, socks and my trusty cap, pulling the bill just right to shade my eyes.

The sun has lit up the grey comb ridge in the distance. It is glowing orange. Between the gnats from last night and the giant dinosaur exhibits, I was woken up twice during the evening with zombie dreams! I’m still a bit hazy, after escaping weird things through what seems in retrospect, much of the night.

DF points out a curious pile of arrow producing chips and pottery chards in a hole. Now covered with sand, it was probably and old firepit for our campsite. It is a fine collection, by previous campers, but this is illegal and to our thinking callously wrong.

We’ll leave it, for now, we have an adventure to start.

A quick breakfast and leaving the tent as is, we drive to the trailhead. This has us smiling on the trail at 7:45am.

The trail snakes through the Butler Wash. It is used enough to leave no question that there is something significant enough to be somewhat popular in this remote corner of Utah. The path Is clear and deep grooves have been carved into the sand.

Large cottonwood trees tower above thick reeds.

This and the more diminutive juniper trees, leave us some of their shade often. The air is calm, bringing quiet, but for the occasional rustle of leaves high above.

As we wander through the depths of the canyon, the walls continue to rise higher and higher.

Off to the right, up on a slight ledge, the first ruin sits crumbled.

At first, it seems that it is nothing to write home about.

However, we do find some rock art formerly inside of a habitation, behind three other constructed walls.

There is a fallen wall, which exposes a line through the mud, just as new construction uses wire to reinforce.

Unmistakably, there is nobody out here but us. The air feels great. We soon enough strip out of our shirts to feel the morning fully all over. Considering our naturally tanned skin with the local color, the prehistoric ruins and our immediate environmental awareness, it feels like we just fit in.

Significant Ruins:

Further up the pathway, but not far, the second ruin is significant. 

There are still full rooms.

I need to pause here, about half way and continue in a few days. There is a load of photos to this story and I’ve been taking on quite an extra bit because of opportunities with the Tucson Gem Show in town.

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