LOST Looking for Monarch

Bears Ears XXVII

2024-05-31

Well, sometimes ya get into a skunk of a mess….

We are looking for one of “the Combs” canyons in Southeastern Utah.  This one leads up into the grand Monarch Ruins.

We are not sure today. We have notes and a rough drawn map with some mileage written on it. I have done the math to reverse that mileage, as we came from the other direction. The Buttler Wash Road is just a graded dirt route, not even a good place to take a motorhome, or low sedan. There are several side unmarked two track jeep trails branching off of it. They generally head toward the Comb Ridge, where a significant landmark, or at least a canyon can be seen in the distance. Today, we’re not so sure, but we’ll try the most likely candidate, by my reckoning.

When we arrive at the end of this dirt road, there is no apparent trailhead, but as we are eating a lunch snack, a couple with New Mexico plates pulls up in another slot in the overgrown desert bushes. We slip on some coverings and casually stroll over to ask them if their information shows this as the way to Monarch. They give the affirmative. We are encouraged, but in the back of my mind, I can’t see that they have any resources better than ours. They are going off of an internet website on a cell phone. None the less, we decide to tag along, safe in numbers.

They think that a trail down a steep slippery sandy slope is the route. I’ve seen these slots in the sand made by cattle and have doubts, yet we will allow ourselves to defer to them. They seem to know where they are.

I get more doubts at the bottom of this 20 ft. drop-off. The trail is like a tunnel through the thickets.

When I start to have to bend over, it gets suspiciously like a cattle trail, just at about a cows back’s height. Still, this is better than any route that we have found, so far.

After bending over walking a few hundred feet, it opens onto a forest. A trail leads down the little valley of the Butler Wash to the north. This is used by cows. There are offshoots as we ply along.

The couple are marching on confidently, as my doubts finally become, “Let’s turn back.” About this time, I notice that even the couple have stopped ahead and look confused.

They decide to truck on. We know how treacherous this wash can be. It is like a jungle.

There is no marking found, which will show us where the tunnel comes out to this trail for our return. I’m concerned when I have found no familiar indications. Measuring distance, even short distance, down here is illusive. I look for landmarks, but all of this is thick and looks the same, but for infrequent subtle differences.

I get a sinking feeling, when it feels like we’ve come back along the trail too far.  DF and I agree, “This looks somehow familiar, and not?”

I’m feeling a tinge of fear, but quickly realize that, worse to worse, I can find a way to breakout and dig before sunset. That thought feels dreadful. I keep it to myself. DF looks concerned, but I don’t want to freak her out with negative considerations. I flash back to breaking my way through a thicket, when I took some bad directions in the mountains near Corrioco, Boliva back in the day. “Nope, nuh uh, not today.” I decide to stick with hope and perseverance.

I just know that I’m in no mood to wander for hours lost in this hot sticky mess. There are places of critter infestation down here. Last week we were silently attacked, by what I described as Teenage Mutant Ninja No See-ems, while we innocently sat in our chairs under a tree. After a few hours, the red bite was like an infection with an incredible toxic itch. Having never encountered such a radical reaction, I found myself seriously wondering if they had been affected by a uranium mine and morphed into super pests.

I turn to DF, “I don’t want to spend my afternoon like this.”

Finally, retracing steps, DF notices two nondescript pieces of wood leaning against a small tree in an unnatural position. Humans placed them here. Neither of us remember the old scrap wood, but it seems to mark a tunnel that may lead out of what feels like a large pit.

On the other end of the tunnel in the thickets, we are surrounded by twenty foot sandy slippery cliffs. Hopefully, the cattle know of a way to climb out.

It IS the tunnel to the slippery slope that we slid down to get lost…Free at last!

Monarch must be the next turn off, north. We’re on our way (Next Post: The Actual Monarch Canyon Ruins).

Encouraged, we shuck off kilt and sundress, celebrating the warm fresh air up on the plain, where a breeze actually moves around us.  I hope that the couple that had kept us covered notice those two marker sticks. I resolve to follow my own instincts and rationale next time.

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