Life in Escalante

Bird on Bird

2009-07-05T08:00:00.004-06:00

We have at least a pair of Mockingbirds (maybe a juvenile too) that have taken up residence near our home. Their garbled telegram-like messages, or songs, usually start 8 or 9 in the morning and disappear by midday. Unfortunately, other small birds have vacated. No longer sweet melodious songs from Meadowlarks or rhythmic whistles from Say's Phoebes grace us. Instead, the bold and boisterous Mockingbird swoop down with its white patch wings blazing, scaring insects or to commandeer our berries. They are conspicuous until you want to photograph them. As I waited with camera in hand, I noticed the silence.

Nasty Gnats

2009-06-16T06:42:00.003-06:00

My face bears witness to the destruction from the tiniest creatures Mother Nature can dish out while camping in the Cedar trees last week-end. I understand why we saw no one while hiking in the vast wilderness of the Kaiparawits mountains: who would want their skin gnawed on by incessant gnats that are not deterred by poison, tight clothing or flight? We escaped to the high ridges where weird boulders and old snags reside in the unhampered breezes. Taking in the vistas on high hillsides, we rejoiced in the freedom from gnats.

Setting the Stage

2009-04-12T11:10:00.008-06:00

Last week we, my husband, our friend Nick, and I, went for a spontaneous 4 night backpacking trip up Stevens Canyon. The weather looked reasonable, with only one threatening stormy day. Our only daily obligation was to find the perfect campsite: flat, near water, some shade, off trail with a view. Otherwise, we spent our energies plowing through Escalante River knee-high water to skipping over Stevens Canyon slow-moving stream. Streaked half-domed walls surrounded us as we meandered up Stevens wash. Of course, all our campsites were perfect except when the winds howled and shook the Cottonwood trees to the ground. Our tent looked like it had been abandoned for decades because three inches of sand had accumulated inside it. We picked up the tent, sand and all, and moved to a near-by sheltering wall. We settled back, the stage set, to watch the golden light show and the moon rise between the canyon walls. Everything was complete.

Daily Sunsets

2009-03-25T16:13:00.003-06:00

Yep, we do have these frequent sunsets here in Escalante, Utah. Clouds have been blowing in and the sunsets are plentiful. Beauty abounds.

Time Tested

2009-02-05T17:08:00.006-07:00

Time was I kept a schedule with no time lapses. Lately, I've taken out time to keep up with the ever-changing positioning of the stars and planets. Wintertime nights are filled with twinkling specks of starlight and I wonder if this is endless time. No, I could make a timetable with the moon's cycle and the mercurial stars. For instance, one evening Venus was on top of the setting moon and then Venus jumped over the moon to the western horizon the next night. I'll make time to watch the dark skies and stay with the everlasting.

Go from Here

2008-12-18T15:52:00.008-07:00

Today I skied for 2 hours from my front door. I slipped away from laundry, Xmas obligations, the financial crisis and didn't look back. Aided by a 4-wheel truck that had broke through the 8 inches of snow, I kicked and glided up to a flat mesa while listening to Michael Franti singing, "lift up my arms higher because you never know when you might die." This area should have been familiar, but snow laden branches and misty vistas were disorientating. I caught a glimpse of ice patches floating in Wide Hollow reservoir and knew it was time to turn around. My only fall was around a bend when the thick powder grabbed my ski. When I returned home, a new snowman addition awaited me. He winked at me, letting me know everything is changing.

Leisurely Snowshoeing

2008-02-14T11:44:00.006-07:00

Yesterday I strapped on a pair of snowshoes after a brief hiatus. The first thing I recognized: I wasn't skiing. The snaillike pace forced me to look around for my stimulation. Changes were happening fast in this isolated canyon: rocks were weeping, ice covered smooth boulders, strained-striped walls dripped like tar. The steep cliffs narrowed as I stomped through crusty, shaded snow. Birds (Juncos?) hopped in and out salt bushes or ventured up a towering Ponderosa tree. Sage scents wafted around me as the snow evaporated. Yep, time was not moving very fast snowshoeing. Now, if I was a snowflake...

Winter Safe Haven

2008-01-11T11:04:00.000-07:00

Winter has settled in and I'm trying to stay put myself. I have groin muscles that are strained and I'm homebound. The dry crunchy snow beckons my X-country skis outward. This is the time for me to tour Escalante's mountains on fluffy powder. I could smell the crisp metalic air as I glide through the popcorn laden trees. Hear only the tweets from birds and try to identify animal tracks before I smash their tracks with my poles or skis. I would dress for the cold to get hot from the exercise. I miss playing in the snow. I must remind myself it's all temporary, all things must end. Just like my injury.

Desert of the Heart - Book Review

2007-12-05T10:14:00.000-07:00

Karen Chamberlain's pretty prose describes the wild desert in simple and bold words. Her hiding place was discovered by many zany and worldly live-in visitors, adding invigorating life to this memoir. After reading Karen's reflections on winter's solitude ("hear the music at the heart of existence"), I now rejoice the cold quiet months in the desert. This short, sweet novel left me wanting more.

Living My Dying

2007-11-09T16:34:00.000-07:00

I had a vivid dream last month that I veered off a high mountain while I drove a car, took a huge gasp (knowing I was to die), and was suspended in the air when I woke up. I think of this dream every time I drive or ride my road bike down Highway 12 from what the locals call "Head of the Rocks." This section of the road takes a wide right swing, descending a 12% grade over-looking mottled white and red slickrock. The Henry mountains loom in the background. If I gaze over the mounds of slickrock while the centrifugal force from the curve is on me, I can feel that same suspended sensation from my dream, like being cradled in a half-moon's lap. Next time you are traveling from Escalante to Boulder, see if this part of the road takes your breath away too.

You are Welcome

2007-10-15T14:46:00.000-06:00

Listening to Don Montoya's archaeological and culture speech at Escalante Canyons Arts Festival last Friday, I finally felt welcomed. We built our first house over eleven years ago as a vacation home here in Escalante, Utah. Now its been over two years of living full-time in our original abode and renting the new La Luz vacation home to tourists. People of all clans throughout history have visited our Colorado Plateau for thousands of years. And then vanished. Like the pioneer families that came to Escalante in the 1800's, second and third generations have to move from Escalante for economic reasons. Its hard to make a living here. Travelers passing through as migrating birds do, are well-received in our community. Surrounded by millions of public lands, we're all visiting temporarily.

Fall Equinox

2007-09-23T13:24:00.000-06:00

I sensed the changing intensity of the sun's rays as we set off on our trail run yesterday. Not only from the double rainbow in the west, but I was able to run comfortably in the late morning. It was as if five pounds were lifted off me. The sun wasn't hot. I even carried a rain jacket and wore a pumpkin-color long sleeve tee-shirt. Orange, or any derivative of that color, is my favorite autumn shade to wear. Seasons do dictate what I wear, when I'm active, where I go and even the food I consume.
Tis the season to eat and eat and eat..vegetables. Our prolific garden has yielded peppers, tomatoes, squash, potatoes, and of course, pumpkins. Chop, peel, cook, freeze are my dominating activities lately. I appreciate the abundance, but not all at once.
It was the SUDDENNESS or impatience that surprised me during this fall equinox day. There were early clues: Aspen trees on Boulder Mountain freckled with gold, sunrises and sunsets arrived later and sooner, the flies disappeared, I shut my bedroom window at night. Autumn in the desert wants to be noticed.

Skywatching

2007-09-11T20:45:00.000-06:00

Its been an interesting summer for sky-watching: Lunar eclipice, meteor showers, finding the north star, seeking Uranus moons.
I had a perfect position to view the Perseids meteor shower. We camped on a peak with a 240 degree view of the sky high above tree line to watch the show. My portable chaise lounge supported me along with a minus 15 degree sleeping bag to see the spectacle in the wee hours before sunrise. I counted 53 falling stars. The streaks came from all directions and time intervals. After each falling star I'd make a wish: peace in the middle east, I'd lose five pounds effortlessly, our front road be paved, see more falling stars... Fifty-three was a good number to crawl back into the tent on.
I regret not taking a photo of the Lunar eclipse. The moon looked like an old picture of red Mars. Eerie. Being awake in the dead of night is spooky too. Coyote howls seemed to be only ten feet away. Bushes rattled as if creatures were convening on how to attack me. Paranoid thoughts ruled during the slow, shadow moon show.
Lately I've been using the binoculars to locate Uranus moons in the southeast sky in the early dark evening. Clouds or my forgetfulness has prevented my newest discovery in the heavens.
The persistent north star or Polaris, has been chased by the Big and Little Dipper for centuries. I've only recently noticed there are other worlds to unearth out in the dark skies.

Up or Down?

2007-08-22T12:55:00.000-06:00

Lightening sparked our debate as to where to backpack last week. Canyons or the mountains? We could wear our shorts through the night in the desert canyons. Recent rains would have filled water-pockets for all our water needs. Cottonwood trees are in full-leaf and would shade us. Those pesky fears of flash-floods made us look upward toward the high mountains. Water is plentiful in the alpine lakes and streams. The nights are cold enough to zap the blood-sucking critters. It would be a relief to be chilled after the desert heat. Then I thought of the time my hair stood up during a close thunder and lightening storm in the high mountains. No place to hide except under a tall, scorched dead Ponderosa tree.
We compromised and backpacked on the head of a narrow canyon. We hiked across slickrock a couple of miles and erected our tent on a sand island under a pinion pine tree. We heard and watched thunderclouds burst all around us. South, Lake Powell was was having its own electric light parade. The city of Escalante was shrouded in gray sheets of rain, hidden in it's own drama. Big anvil clouds swallowed up the Henry Mountains. We toasted to our clear donut hole sky and watched a rainbow travel through time.

Little Big Rain

2007-07-14T13:18:00.000-06:00

As I set off for a casual mountain bike ride, I didn't believe it would rain. How could rain come from such puny far-away clouds? Two miles down the dirt road big fat drops plopped on my bare arms. I welcomed any moisture and charged forward in the cooling wetness. Then I relented and put on my nylon "water-resistant" jacket. The sky above me was still blue. Thunder cracked above the side canyons. I found some shelter under the canopy of an old Juniper tree. The huge raindrops turned the dirt road into a bubbling mass of miniature suction- cups. I smelled the steamy mud. Twenty feet away a new channel of foamy water gushed over the road to force its way to Alvey Wash. This new water-channel was like a hunting dog on a scent. Nothing would deter its course. I waited for the rain to let up.
Ten years or so ago, a big monsoon rainstorm hit our desert home. Our boys played in the mud and tried to block the waterways that played havoc through our yard. The trenches still exist. During the storm we raced to Alvey Wash and was rewarded with red rapids of churning water. Debris of tree branches, pine needles, boulders, plowed through the once dry bed. It took out chunks of the banks as it curled around corners. Expert kayakers would have had a hard time navigating through this force of water. We were in awe.
Twenty wet minutes later I ventured from beneath the Juniper and pedaled my way back to the house. It was like parting the red sea as my fat bike tires split the water. A newborn river crossed my pathway that had taken out part of the road stopped my passage. Patience. I walked up and down this new watercourse to find a way to jump it. Ten minutes later I forged through this brooklet. I made it back home, albeit muddy and soaked, pleased the monsoons have arrived.

The Lost Birthday Wish

2007-06-04T16:37:00.000-06:00

Ever gotten lost? You know that disorientated, heart-racing surge of where-am-I doom feeling for hours? You probably haven't if you've stayed on the designated trails.
Yesterday I left the known path and crossed down boulder fields to reach an alpine lake nestled in pines and cattails. Just a little side adventure. I wanted to help fulfill my friend's birthday wish of swimming in an alpine lake. After the icy plunge, we climbed over the dumpster-sized boulders back to our Great Western Trail. Thirty minutes later we still hadn't reached the well-marked GWT path and decided to return to the boulder field. We never did find those particular rocks. The downed dense timber slowed us but we persevered through thick folage as evening descended. I realized we were walking in circles because my shadow followed me from different sides. Finally we stumbled on a creek and we hacked our way down the stream until it became a marsh.
I took stock of what I had on me to survive the night: small knife, a tarp, quart of water, some jerky, fleece headband and my dog. Knowing I could live through the night kept me calm and moving.
Back up the creek, we crashed through twisted branches and soft satuated soil. We didn't know where else to go but higher to spy any landmarks we knew above the trees.
After three hours my girlfriend got her birthday wish: She found the Great Western Trail after her swim. This is her lost birthday present. Next year will be the year of the compass and map.

The Echo Effect

2007-05-06T11:37:00.000-06:00

I remarked last week to my husband as we slogged up the Esplanade in the Grand Canyon, how the Escalante canyons could look like this without the cows.
We can drive to the pristine North Rim of the Grand Canyon in 2 hours SW from Escalante. Grand Canyon is a national treasure with it's untrampled cyptrogamic soil, indigenous plants and critters, and relative low tourist impacts. Yes, the springs that spout from rock walls have visitor damage from the Colorado River's easy access. Five days of hiking in and out the North Rim is only the tip of the Grand Canyon.
To the north of Escalante (hour and half away) the girls from Colorado and I road biked though another National Park - Capital Reef. The Fremont river cuts through sheer stained walls with its own set of canyons. Capital Reef is surrounded by pinnacles and castles and a few gargoyles. I broke my personal fastest record riding down to the visitor center: 40.9 MPH. I almost fell off my bike going up the same hill, pedaling too slow: 3.5 MPH. At least I was slow enough to see blooming Desert Paintbrush and Penstemons.
Bryce National Park surprised me last winter to have been able to skate-ski through vast pine forests. Only 45 minutes west of Escalante, Bryce's red canyons and forests are obtainable year-round. This is the most photogenic park with its endless hoodoos.
I'm listening to the echo effect from the other national parks as the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument develops it's own voice.

How You Know When it's Cold

2007-03-18T08:27:00.000-06:00

At a yoga class my backpacking buddy was asked about her purple middle toe. That's when I knew it was COLD crossing the Coyote and Escalante rivers a few week-ends ago. We plowed through the penetrating FREEZING ankle-deep water to hike the other shoreline. The sunshine was heaven and hell: the joy of the warming rays to piecing pain as my feet rapidly de-frosted. The group agreed to find a higher route to Stevens Arch Canyon and stay out of the streams.

We found a faint trail high-up with the tops of hoodoos and an orange monolithic locomotor. We followed a winding single track and filled our bottles with sweet spring water. Our original Stevens Canyon destination was below us, shrouded in dense shade and unmelted snow. Our sunny side was the place to be in the beginning of March. We'll save Stevens Canyon for a hot summer day when the cool water is welcomed and after our war-wounds have healed.

Finding Inner Peace in the Desert

2007-02-02T09:15:00.000-07:00

As I flipped over my January calender page, I read the inspirational message by Erkart Tolle: "All the things that truly matter- beauty, love, creativity, joy, inner peace - arise from beyond the mind." The desert brings me pleasure and inner peace. If I think about the loveliness of the wilderness I'm not getting Tolle's point: going beyond the mind. I do sense the timelessness yet ever changable characteristics of the desert. Rocks are alive, absorbing the stillness. Clouds come and go, never the same. Animals enjoy eating succulant plants and hording food for upcoming seasons.
At times I may see heat waves shimmering and undulating in the distance. This maybe what Buddhism calls "dissolution." This is where elements begin to dissolve and flow into each other: earth into water, water into fire, fire into air. Here I go again, into my head. Out in the unpeopled desert I just try to be. Later I reflect on the beauty and my love for the untamed wilderness here at my doorstep.

Ricki Bagged Zebra Canyon

2007-01-04T13:54:00.000-07:00

I have this fantasy of leading a trail running group to Zebra slot canyon and back. The problem was I couldn't remember how to get there. My initial approach to Zebra was different. Ricki, my husband, wasn't with me when I bagged (conquered) the twenty yards of Zebra-striped slot canyon years ago.
Ricki and I tried different routes. Once we went over the mounds of slickrock and discovered acres of Moqui marbles but not the treasured banded canyon. Another attempt we went deep down Harris Wash to other interesting side canyons worth more exploring. Others ventured with us but water pools stopped us.

When I entered the twisty tunnel the walls progressively became tighter and more streaked. At one point I had to squeeze through a close slit that opened into an obstacle to climb. The others wedged their agile bodies up and over. I was stymied. I couldn't get my butt up to scoot across the tall wall while bracing my feet against the opposite wall. Several scrapes and bruises later I rammed my backside along one wall as my feet supported me against the other wall.
I scooted horizontally across the walls until I reached the famed stripes of Zebra. The effort was worth it. Symmetrical bands wound through the wavy slot canyon. Another difficult climbing hurdle stopped me from going deeper. I went back through exotic Zebra-land and up and over my previous climbing challenge with confidence.
I'm now closer to fulfilling my trail running group fantasy.

Escalante - Your Destination Now

2006-12-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we discovered new large Hoodoos down Hole-in-the-Rock road. There are millions of acres in the Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument waiting to be discovered during all the seasons. The winter sun starts shining at 7am and doesn't stop for ten hours. That's 600 minutes of wild hiking and exploring time. The golden light is soft but clear, allowing photos to become more picturesque. We saw no other souls when we found the pinnacles in the EGSNM, only the pinnacle family of five: dad, mom. two kids, and grandpa who presided over the clan.
Escalante is between two National Parks, three state parks and a monument worthy of exploration. Why not take a winter vacation and investigate our natural wonders that has been perserved for us? Wake up to flaming sunrises, spend your waking time in the wilderness and rest while the stars fall overhead.
I understand why the general population does not travel in the wintertime. Most of the country is seized with icy roads and freezing temperatures. Not Escalante - we keep on hking in the desert year round.

Fall Reflection

2006-10-27T20:09:00.000-06:00

I wore heavy eye-liner last night under my Scream costume. It's been over a year since I've even applied make-up. I'm noticing patterns or developing them since moving to Escalante full-time. Our guests are booking fall and springtime reservations for La Luz Desert Retreat months or a year in advance. Sometimes the weather isn't as predictable. Last October the rains came at the end of the month. This October the warm Indian summer is happening now. I'm still shaving my legs so I can wear shorts in the daytime. Frost hasn't softened the outside pumpkins. I am waking up before sunrise and witness the sky change colors.

Our garden has gone from bare ground to a jungle of produce. The remaining dry corn stalks rustle in the breeze, scaring up some thoughts of the upcoming Day of the Dead, Halloween, evening. We have more local friends to celebrate seasonal closures.

We've explored new wild areas where no trails exist, places we want to remain untrampled by the masses, territories where I've wondered if anyone else has dared (or want) to venture. There is 1.7 million acres of National Monument to roam and few identifiable trails for tourists to explore. Only the brave and foolish get off the well-marked paths. Not knowing where you are can lead to discovering who you are--one with all.

When I leave the city of Escalante, I'm excited to purchase luxuries, see a movie, eat someone else's cooking, see new sights. The crowds and the tainted air can be challenging to tolerate. I come back home with my goodies and no cosmetics.

Escalante Arts Festival

2006-10-12T13:46:00.000-06:00

Last week we had three artists, painters, who stayed at our desert retreat, competing in the Plein Air competition here in Escalante. Bruce was particularly excited, since he was a winner in last year's contest. The other two women recognized the painter of my framed artwork in their bedroom. Anticipation sparked the house as they scuttled about preparing for painting outside. Plein Air means painting out-of-doors.

The first two days were rainy in the mornings but the sun burst out in the afternoons. Our group chose a location off the Burr Trail in Boulder. Peggy, a watercolorist, painted her paint brushes stuck in a tree trunk. Oils were the medium of choice for Bruce and Lee to color their blank canvases. I loved how Lee captured the vastness, all the way to the Henry Mountains.

We had major rain storms the rest of the week. Our guests persevered and painted under the eaves of La Luz. Clouds became focal points as well as the view from La Luz. Peggy drew a detailed picture of our garden and watercolored over her detailed drawing. These are painters who create art in any circumstance.

The artists had to choose one of their new paintings to enter the competition by last Friday. Lee selected her cloudy Full Moon picture, Bruce his landscape of slickrock, and Peggy entered her paintbrushes. The Gala and silent auction was Saturday night. The artists voted for their favorite painting and the local choice was announced that night. The appetizers and drinks were devoured during the intense bidding on esteemed paintings. Peggy won a Honorable Mention award and sold her framed picture for a fist full of money. Lee and Bruce left with promises of returning next year, no matter the conditions.

I want to give special thanks to Peggy for giving me the "unfinished" painting of our garden. It's artwork to me.

Rocquette, my dog, wants the artists to come back too.

The Weight of Comfort

2006-10-08T09:01:00.000-06:00

When I'm backpacking in the wilderness there are certain extravagances I must have. The weight factor is a consideration I take into account when choosing and hauling my personal pleasures. Thus a small pack is preferred due to less weight that can be carried. I always have space for my chair that encases my sleeping pad; the ounces are worth the back support. Lately we've been using a GPS unit and debated whether the decreased anxiety out weighed the bulk. I have since made room in my pack for the unit, easing our anxiety.
A mind-candy type of paperback book is another necessity. Once in camp, I've often wondered, "now what?" I kick back in my chair, delve into my mystery, and sip a cocktail from my lexan plastic bottle. Another luxury I bring is hard alcohol: tequila, whiskey, vodka, or rum. More bang for the buck. If a lexan is used it won't absorb the smell from the booze.
These are weighty matters as one decides how to luxuriate in the wild.

Flamboyant Flashes in the Night

2006-09-15T16:06:00.000-06:00

I woke up last night to a rumbling noise and wondered if a train was coming down the tracks into town. No, I live in Escalante, where no trains can venture. But the loud boom had the same intensity as a train's horn: it rattled the windows and my teeth. Flashes of brightness, like disjointed strobe lights, made me realized this was one crazy lightening storm. A calmness descended, then, Kaboom! The flashes and blasts were coincided. I fantasized if this was like the bombings in Baghdad. Could the lightening pierce through the window glass and strike me?
The thought of my computer being struck got me out of bed to unplug it. Rocquette, my dog, was whimpering and shaking. She found her refuge under our claw-foot bathtub as I watched the flamboyant flashes while I disabled my computer. I didn't feel any safer walking around nude, so I snuggled close to my husband in bed. The thunderstorm seemed directly over us. I cringed as the turbulence erupted inside our small bedroom. Rain pounded on the roof. Wind streaked through unknown cracks. Gradually, the thunder became fainter and the flashes more occasional. I rolled over to my side of the bed and listened to the steady pitter-patter of the rain and fell asleep.