Dead Horse Point

Dead Horse Point is a State Park 35 miles from Moab. There’s some interesting scenery on the way. The information board names these two outcrops, properly called buttes, as the Monitor and the Merrimack respectively. These two ironclad battleships fought each other to a standstill in the Civil War. These guys don’t look as if they’ve moved much in the last couple of million years.

A few miles along the route is another stopping point. We pull over. Doesn’t look too interesting, but the board tells us that these flat rock areas are fundamental to supporting life in such dry regions. Rain is captured by the rock hollows, from which animals drink, with some containing life forms like fairy shrimps. Algae grows in patches on the rocks. This is all part of the fragile ecosystem.

At mile 35 we pay our $10 park entry and carry on to the first overlook. It’s something like the Grand Canyon but not so deep.

In the top right hand corner is a river or lake. Closer inspection reveals several large ponds that the ever-present info board tells us are potash beds. Water is pumped down to dissolve underground mineral salts and brought to the surface as a solution, then piped into shallow evaporation beds. Once fully dried out, the potash is harvested by laser-guided 20 tonne scrapers. 

We have a mini Grand Canyon here because it’s the same Colorado river that has created big brother a few hundred miles downstream.

Outside the visitor centre is a dinosaur footprint captured in rock. It’s about 6 inches square and looks like a giant chicken footprint. How many soldiers would you need for that boiled egg?

Dead Horse Point itself is the end of the road. There’s a sheer drop on all sides apart from the narrow access strip. Notices warn to keep away from the edges.There are too many viewpoints to be fenced and, anyway, it really is up to visitors to take responsibility for following the safety code and using common sense. The couple sat by the wall overlooking the 2000 foot drop are just about safe enough, but we saw people stood on the wall and even jumping up for photos and selfies. “Smile…back a bit…!”

Finally, the sad tale of how Dead Horse Point got its name. Wild mustangs roamed this area in the 19^th century and cowboys would round them up to select the most marketable ones first and come back for the others later. Dead Horse point was the ideal place for such a round-up. The mustangs could be herded onto the neck of land and then the narrow access barricaded. They were thus firmy corralled. One time, they contained a herd, taking the prime horses and leaving the others. But they didn’t return, and the remaining horses died of thirst and starvation, in sight of, but unable to reach, the Colorado River.

Looking in the direction of the flow of the river from this high vantage point, the vastness of the canyon system created over the millennia becomes apparent.

I’m sure we all take too many digital photos, but showing you any more of the park would be like, um,….flogging a dead horse. Boom boom.

Cedar City to Moab

We took a leisurely two days to travel to Moab, stopping overnight at Walmart. Walmart is the Tesco of the USA but, unlike Tesco, is happy for motorhomers to park up overnight. It works both ways, the campers get a free night, with Walmart 24 hour security in attendance, and Walmart get in return the extra pairs of eye and ears from the campers should any thieves or vandals think of dodging around security. Also, the campers shop in the store, as we do.

There aren’t many purpose-built motorway services compared to the UK; there may be pulloff fast food places that are signposted, or you can use the rest areas and make your own food. The rest areas are spasmodic, but this road is well supplied, and for lunch we stop atanyway one with information boards. It looks down over a vast and desolate plain.

The panels tell of early Mormon settlers who saw the area as a potential cattle prairie, but were warned off by the Indians because of the dryness and lack of good water. But the Mormons went ahead anyway and eked out a living. They obviously didn’t do that well as there is no sign of cultivation, livestock or dwellings today. The mountain behind is most eye-catching, but that doesn’t put food on the table.

Shortly after leaving the rest area the road runs through a steep gorge. So much rock has been blasted away, it begs the question whether a tunnel wouldn’t have been cheaper.

 We noticed black skies in the distance over an hour go. Now it’s catching up with us. The photo is not so much for the heavy rain clouds as for the unusual flying saucer shaped cloud. Quite disappointed that we weren’t of sufficient interest to be abducted.

We pull in to another rest area to change drivers just as the storm breaks and the wind whips up. It takes everyone by surprise, including the rest area rubbish collector who is caught, literally, with his trousers down.

I’m now driving and can honestly say these are the worst conditions I’ve ever experienced: rain in buckets and fierce gusting wind. We pulled in to a layby when it got too bad. Not far to the site, fortunately, and luckily some respite in the deluge as we set up in our pitch. But not for long, the downpour and lashing wind is back again. Little rivers are running down the road and through the pitch.

 By the end of the evening the tempest has run its course, and next day dawns bright and warm. We discover we have a really pleasant pitch at the edge of the site with a fine view of the cliffs. Happy holidays again.

Bryce Canyon, the Jewel in the Crown

Bryce is 75 miles from the campsite and in the mountains, so we expected a difficult drive. However the roads were first class, as you can see, even cutting through a rock as we neared our destination.

There was unusual rock scenery from here on to the park, like this column with what looks like a giant Budda on top.

The guide books, and everyone who had visited Bryce, said how fantastic it was, so you arrive expecting to be bowled over immediately. Here’s the first viewpoint, very nice, spectacular even, but nothing different to other parks we’ve visited.

But moving on round to the next overlook, some of the rock formations are now quite different. The colours especially are almost glowing. The scale is vast, particularly viewed in the second photo below.

At another point there are different shapes, stood like petrified figures, Where these have weathered into individual columns, as in the second photo, they are known as hoodoos. Particularly note the different colours. The white isn’t snow, although we are at 8,000 feet: it was actually a really warm day.

An information board quotes the wisdom of an elderly Paiute called Indian Dick who explains that before the Indians, the Legend People occupied the land and they did bad things, and so were turned to stone by the Spirits. More effective punishment than fines or probation, certainly. It needs little imagination to see theses columns as weathered stone statues, as in an ancient cathedral. This is a good example.

Continuing with the cathedral comparison, this cliff could easily be part of a medieval façade with alcoves, carvings and statues.

The rim of the canyon is eroding a few centimetres every decade and this is apparent from the exposed tree roots in places. These roots were level with the soil when the tree was established.

The trees are all firs of several different types, generally growing where you would expect, but occasionally one defies the odds- how does it manage to survive?

The canyon complex is crisscrossed by hiking and riding trails at all levels. This is a horse trek heading down to the canyon floor. We stayed firmly on the top and flattest level.

The canyon was named after one Ebeneezer Bryce, a mormon settler originally from Scotland. His famous quote sums up the fragmented, chaotic nature of the place: “a hellava place to lose a cow”. This next photo is a what we meant. The front ranks could even be the Chinese terracotta army.

From time to time we need to prove that we’ve visited places together, so here we are on one of the overlooks, kind permission of a passing tourist.

What a place! Never seen anything like it.

Cedar City, Utah

Utah’s earliest white settlers were a group of Mormons who travelled into the uncharted West to avoid persecution. Led by Brigham Young, they settled in what is now Salt Lake City in 1847.

Young sought self sufficiency, which needed iron. Ore was discovered 250 miles south, and volunteers were enlisted to develop the area for an iron works. In 1851 the new settlers arrived where Cedar City now stands. But they needed an expert, and fortunately had one in Richard Harrison who was previously been superintendent of the world’s largest iron foundry in Liverpool. He came with the initial wave of settlers, and designed and built the first iron works. It produced its first iron from local ore on Sept 30^th 1852. Some achievement, from a standing start!

The local Frontier Homestead Museum celebrates those early days with interesting memorabilia, if presented somewhat haphazardly.

Out the front is an 1920’s excavator used for scooping iron ore. I guess it could scoop almost anything. The machines were never used in the locality as the iron works unfortunately didn’t thrive, and closed in 1858.

Here’s a rickety wild west stagecoach demonstrating, if nothing else, how uncomfortable the ride must have been. Dangerous, too, as the stage has a bullet hole in the side.

And now a reconstructed settlers cabin from the late 19^th Century. Jane thinks she could live in this just fine as it’s about the same size as our caravan back home. Also it’s more arrow-proof than our caravan, but no cassette loo. You don’t ask.

Because of the elevation here, over 5,000 feet, winters can be cold and snowy. A local inventor came up with a snowmobile in the 1940’s. Although it looks more like a midget submarine, apparently it did work and was a great success leading to the much more sophisticated machines of today.

Probably the most interesting exhibits were the dwellings of the Southern Native Americans. These are called wickiups, made from woven rushes, or bark, or branches in a variety of designs and sizes. These were used until  about a century ago. The museum examples don’t look as if they would offer much shelter in bad weather- or even good weather, come to that.

The pit houses of the Fremont peoples who lived in the area until the 13^th century seem much more substantial. They were farmers and possessed sophisticated artifacts like pots and ornaments that have been found, but little is known about their culture, and we don’t know why they suddenly disappeared.

Cedar City is now pleasant smalltown America, complete with national fast food chains, shops and garages. However, the “Historic Center” has been preserved which contains its core of individuality.

Nearby is Kolob canyon. It’s rather overshadowed by its near neighbour Zion that we visited a few days ago,but it’s quite spectacular in its own right. There are some excellent walks within, as can be seen from this trailhead.

Moving up into the canyon itself, the 1000 foot red rock walls are very impressive.

Driving and climbing all the way to the end of the scenic 6 mile paved road is an overlook that puts you nearly level with the top of the walls. Description boards point out hidden valleys where streams feed dense stands of firs. Cougars have been spotted but no chance for casual visitors. It fact there wasn’t much wildlife beyond the occasional bird, rabbit, lizard and squirrel.

Unlike Zion, there were only a handful of cars, so we had a leisurely morning in yet another magnificent American scenic park. 

Zion Canyon National Park

Zion is a deadend canyon about 8 miles long. It has been occupied for thousands of years by man. First evidence is of primitive hunters, then from about 2,300 years ago came the farmers, the Ancestral Puebloan Indians. These disappeared around 1200 AD to be followed by the Southern Paiute Indians, and lastly Mormon settlers from the 1850’s. It is a harsh climate of great heat in the summer and cold winters but the canyon has a key feature in a desert area- water. The Virgin river runs along its whole length.

The Paiutes still claim affiliation with the Canyon based upon their occupation of the land for many centuries. This early photo shows a tribal member in traditional clothes and with hunting gear. He looks more at home in this environment than his descendants today who own and run (inefficiently) the Indian Peaks campsite where we’re staying.

 We visited Zion on a Sunday: it was packed. We queued to pay per car at the entry where the rangers directed us to the only car park, which was full. Thanks. A second consultation with the rangers revealed that there was plenty of parking in the small town adjacent and a free shuttle bus.

Back at the Visitor Centre some time later, courtesy of the free shuttle, we get a nice view of the entrance to the canyon.

Now we board another free shuttle bus to see the canyon itself. Private vehicles are prohibited because the single narrow access road would be totally clogged with visitors’ cars. The shuttle stops frequently at designated locations where you can alight and walk and sightsee.

At this stop we admired the peaks called the Three Patriarchs. Many of the names, including Zion itself, were given by the Mormons, so are Biblical.

Now we reach the canyon end, and get off again. It isn’t quite a dead-end as the Virgin river flows through a narrows in the rocks called a slot canyon.

Despite its constraints, a concrete path runs alongside the river for about a mile into the narrows. It’s even wheelchair friendly, the surface is so good. Note two things: Jane striding out along the path, and the green canyon wall. This is created by water seeping continuously out of fissures in the rock thereby creating a microclimate for plants and creatures. So it’s much more than just a slimy surface.

When the made-up path runs out it’s just the river. Hardy explorers can carry on walking up the river for another 12 miles, if you don’t mind wet feet. As you can see, some are doing so. However, the Park Authorities sternly warn that you need specialist footwear (can’t see any in the photo!) and check the weather forecast as flash floods can be lethal.

We make one more stop-off on the way back to see the view of the canyon featured in most brochures. It was a bit misty from the heat haze by this time of the afternoon but maybe that adds to the drama.

 Despite the crowds, Zion was beautiful and the weather perfect, if a little hot. We drove out easily with no queues and were back at the campsite within an hour. 

Heading West: 4th Sept

The Washington to Las Vegas flight left at 6:30pm, so we chased the setting sun, landing at 8:30 local time. 5 hours flying in 4 time zones. On the plane it was noticeable how few lights indicated towns of any size until we were lining up for touch-down. Then suddenly, an explosion of light from The Strip made it seem we were landing in the middle of a giant funfair. In a way, I suppose we were.

We came to Vegas to pick up the camper, staying a few days to provision it and get used to the tail end of summer temperatures. Still too hot at max 115F (45C). Here’s our camper, all set to leave for the cooler mountains of Utah.

There is one main road from Vegas to Utah, so it’s busy. The speed limit is 80 mph, the highest we’ve so far seen in America, and the lorries mostly all travel at that speed. This kind of rig would often zoom past intimidatingly. The phrase, “not taking any prisoners”, comes to mind.

 It’s scrub desert with a background of stark mountains most of the way. Mile after mile.

The route cuts across the top corner of Arizona and then through the mountains into Utah. Literally, carved through the mountains.

Into Utah, the other side, the scenery is more dramatic still with the different colour rock formations.

Another hour now to Cedar City, our destination. The campsite is a few miles outside in an Indian reservation. However, we don’t see any Indians as the campsite is run by a few of the residents. They tell us that the Indians don’t take much interest in the campsite, which was built for them by the Government. There’s a lot of guilt about how the Indians were treated and dispossessed, so maybe sometimes they get given things they don’t really want. The site is in a pleasant location, but somewhat run-down. We’re the camper on the front left.

The walking is good at the back of the site. The tarmac road peters out into a dirt track which carries on indefinitely. The hills show tinges of red from iron ore deposits.

We walked for a long time this day and reached the edge of the reservation. We knew that from the sign below. We expected, at the very least, for an arrow or tomahawk to embed itself in a nearby tree whilst we were quickly surrounded by Paiute tribesmen wearing feather plumes. Disappointingly, nothing. Just as well, perhaps, as my knowledge of Indians is limited to John Wayne films, and the Lone Ranger and Tonto.