A couple of days before, we drove down a tough ‘ol road out on a piece of butte, a peninsula, looking for a place to camp. With the focus on that and the usual insulation of traveling by car, we could tell that we were missing something beautiful and fascinating. One must get out and feel, touch, be touched, take it slower, and take the time to appreciate and discover the Earth’s treasures. Last night, we decided to do that, just that, get out there on foot and hike that peninsula.
We took four and a half hours strolling out and then one and a half to march back uphill for some exercise. That made for a very good day. Whatever and whoever goes down must come back up. Take it all in, slowly and thorough and then march back.
After so much time in the outback, arriving in Blanding, Utah had been the shock of civilization. The quiet little town was quite a contrast to the solitude and elbowroom of the uninhabited mountains. It felt hectic to go from store to store, preparing for the next leg of our journey, get a camp set up, shower, pay bills and hear the news on the phone and internet. Civilization, with all of its convenience, by comparison, seemed stressful.
Today, we no longer awaken under the call of birds breaking the silence, the peace, or the pleasant smell of a forest. We’re in a trailer park, amongst monstrous vehicles, with the footsteps and chatter of elderly anonymous tourists, our friendly neighbors. They are moving in less than perfect health, but content, leashed to their small dogs, smiling with waves to fellow assumed Good Sams. I pack up our sleeping quarters and compliment the owner on the tidy grounds, as we leave.
We travel south, through the increasingly more desolate and surreal lands. The last vestiges of civilization are crammed into the thin canyons with the highway.
In iconic rock faced valleys are monuments to “Indians” and offers a stay in conical teepees within a luxury resort.
Along the way are a restaurant and a local cross between a convenience store and a very small general goods outlet. I make sure that I slip out to pump the last available gas, probably for a long long time.
It seems that here, people need to make a buck with what they have available, or they’re retired.
Two hours down this road, ancient Canyon de Chelly sits. It is a bigger, more complex grouping of ruins, which were a part of systems of a very different civilization.
We are understandably traveling every bit of naturally naked, save the walls of the SUV.
(To see the rest of this post, you’ll have to find the “2” and click the page turning button, below.)
In a perfectly lovely morning, the juniper tree blocks the direct sun on our open net topped tent. From this, we have a less abrupt wake-up call, and cool comfort pervades. After laying relaxed, looking up at the sky, encouraged by the day’s agenda, I roll into breaking camp mode. DF prepares a breakfast of chopped bananas in the delicious ground almond porridge stuff that she often brings from home.
Heading down the road that we came in on, up the eroded steep sandy hill, we find the turn off which goes to an obvious double arch off of the main road.
The turn off looks like an obscure and rough side-road, judging from the map. There is more road and open space to see out here, but we have other plans and prefer to beat the heat in the shade of some intriguing geology. We’re going to investigate an unusual form, a double natural arch.
The plan is to head on up the trail from the ruins and into the canyon where the crowds rarely go. There, we can look for any more signs of ancient life and explore in natural pleasant nudity with little chance of being interrupted by others. There is always something fun and of interest in these remarkable canyons. We figure that we’ll spend another hour or so, up the trail and then return, depending on the heat and comfort.
As soon as possible, we are once again naked in the sun, but maybe within sight of those people who are above, near the ruins, hidden in the brush.
DF Takes the Pack for a While, More Air for me, Everywhere
These ruins! Discovering pictographs and petroglyphs is addicting. We know that there are likely more. This area was just too rich and big to not be inhabited by more ancient farmers.
The plan is to get out early and quickly. We prepared last evening before bed for an earlier start. It may be a long day. We want to take advantage of the cliff shadow’s shade up the long hill.
We are climbing a 1200 foot, two mile cliff side road. It is the old main road to Colorado, which we are told, is now abandoned and in disrepair. As the day rolls on, the old travel route will reveal itself as a challenging 4×4 nightmare.
Somewhere up there are two ancient interests, a distinct petroglyph and a ruin that still displays a tower.
We’re off to explore north of Arch Canyon, along the rock slope west of Comb Ridge, Utah. I’ve been aligning a series of canyons, what I can see, with lines on a crude map. On the map, there is marked a cave, pictographs and ruins in a few of the several canyons. Which canyons are which, at this point I’m reasonably sure about, but heading north through the canyon on winding roads, trails may get confusing.
Then, there is a blank piece of the knowledge. I have no information about any trails, or routes to get to each canyon. There may be none. We’ll have to keep an eye out for any clues along the way. We may even find ourselves bushwhacking.
The Free Range Naturist 