Arches and Canyonlands National Parks

by Mike Graf

  The trail leveled out for a time. Before long the Parkers got their first glimpse of the towering, colorful, needled spires of rock looming ahead.

  “Wow!” Dad exclaimed. “Look at what’s up there.”

  Soon the family passed by a giant mushroom-shaped rock. A group of hikers were hanging out in the shade underneath it. The two groups waved to each other as Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad tramped by.

  Canyonlands’ Mushroom-shaped Rocks

  * * *

  The Needles area is famous for red and white pinnacles of sandstone. The white layer is from beach sand material from the many sea episodes in the area. This rock is naturally cemented together with calcium carbonate, which makes it highly erosion resistant. The red layer is from sedimentary rock, which is much more erodible. When water came through the area, many of these pinnacles were carved away along the weaker red layers, leaving behind caps of white sandstone and creating the mushroom shapes seen today.

  The twins noticed the dark, crusty, bacteria-laden dirt everywhere around the trail. “Crypto . . . biotic soil!” Morgan recalled, taking a second to remember the pronunciation.

  Cryptobiotic soil

  “And lizards,” James added, as one scampered toward the bushes and right over the blackened dirt crust.

  The Parkers soon fell into a rhythm, walking among the silent stone-laden scenery. The trail at times meandered across flatter, grassy areas with brief interludes of shade between rocks.

  Soon they reached a junction. James pulled out his map of the Chesler Park area. “Okay, one and a half miles gone,” he announced.

  Mom paused to admire the views. “Let’s have some water here,” she said.

  After drinking, the Parkers continued on their journey with Dad now leading the way.

  After a while the family came upon a large, shady crack between the rocks. The Parkers stopped for a few minutes, enjoying the interlude out of the sun.

  Mom took a deep breath, inhaling the air. “It’s so much cooler in here,” she mentioned.

  Meanwhile James pulled out the map again, studying the trail they were on. Then he glanced at other sections of the map. The names of nearby park features jumped out at him. James cleared his throat and began announcing: “Harvest Scene, Needles, The Fins, Castle Arch.”

  “Go on.” Dad said. “I want to hear what else is out here.”

  “Let’s see,” James searched some more. “Lizard Rock. The Doll House. The Plug. Wedding Ring Arch. Caterpillar Arch. Devils Kitchen.”

  “There’re lots of interesting places to explore, that’s for sure,” Mom said while hoisting her pack back on.

  The family left the cool, shady oasis and tramped on. They followed rock piles up and down the uneven terrain. Soon they reached their second trail junction.

  Morgan read the sign. “That’s 2.1 miles gone,” she announced.

  “It’s less than a mile to Chesler Park,” James realized.

  Dad scanned the area. “It’s good that these signs are out here,” he acknowledged. “Without them, this convoluted rock wilderness could easily make us feel lost.”

  After a few more climbs and descents, the family approached the seemingly impenetrable needled barrier framing Chesler Park.

  Another junction indicated only 0.2 mile left to their destination. Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad scrambled up the last section. At the top of the rise, they finally gazed into the Chesler Park arena, a circle-shaped grassland surrounded by towering rock spires and pinnacles. Not another person was in sight.

  Trail sign in Chesler Park

  “I couldn’t even imagine a place so beautiful,” Dad whispered in awe.

  “And it’s so different than a typical mountain backpack,” Mom added.

  After Morgan snapped a few photos, James checked the map again. “It’s this way.” He pointed to the left, beyond a junction.

  And so the Parkers began hiking toward their backcountry campsite. The trail rolled over small, sandy hills, making the going slow. A few wildflowers and pincushion cactuses decorated the ground right next to the path.

  Suddenly Mom stopped. “Look at these,” she called out with alarm.

  Two large sets of tracks crisscrossed the sandy trail.

  “One looks doglike but more pointed, so it’s probably a coyote,” Mom explained.

  “And these?” Dad asked, standing near the other tracks.

  Mom inspected them too. “Those,” Mom slowly said, “are catlike. Notice the five sections and no claw markings. Cats retract their claws when walking. A large cat out here means a mountain lion.”

  Morgan and James inched closer to their parents.

  Dad scanned the Chesler Park area. “We need to stay close together and definitely keep our eyes open.”

  The Parkers hiked on. A few minutes later Mom stopped at a small pile of fur-coated scat next to the trail. “Oh, yes. We definitely aren’t the only mammals out here!” she remarked.

  Still later Mom held out her arms and stopped again. Then she turned to her family and whispered, “Shhh.”

  The Parkers stood on the sandy trail and watched a small grayish bird hop along about twenty feet ahead of them on the path.

  Mom inched closer to get a better look.

  The bird wobbled then hopped forward before making a faint call that sounded distressed.

  Again Mom took a small step toward the tiny bird. She watched it scoot farther along the path and chirp loudly. “It looks hurt,” she guessed.

  The bird continued to hop short distances up the trail. The Parkers meanwhile inched forward along the same path, keeping a set distance from the injured bird.

  “I’m not sure it can fly,” Dad said.

  “Or where it is hurt,” Mom added.

  The gray bird continued scooting along, several yards ahead of the Parkers.

  “It’s staying on our trail,” Morgan whispered.

  Suddenly, a larger, distinctly blue bird dropped off the limbs of a nearby juniper tree and flew directly at the Parkers. The bird gathered speed and aimed right at Dad’s head.

  Dad saw the bluebird at the last second. “Ahhh!” he yelled while ducking.

  The bluebird whisked away and flew back to the tree.

  “Wow!” Dad exclaimed. “That bluebird just dive-bombed me!”

  “Here it comes again,” James called out.

  The bluebird again flew right at the Parkers. This time it beelined straight for Mom, and as she ducked, the bird whisked off and retreated to its tree.

  “Whoa!” Mom called out. “Now that was close.”

  “That bird on the trail must be its baby,” Morgan realized.

  “I was thinking that,” Mom said. “But I wasn’t sure because of the different color.”

  The bluebird in the tree squawked. The baby bird on the trail chirped back, still meekly hopping along.

  Then the bluebird dove at the Parkers again, this time narrowly missing Morgan’s ear as it peeled off at the last second.

  The Parkers huddled together. “What do we do?” James called out.

  “Duck!” Morgan screamed as again they were attacked.

  Female mountain bluebird

  The bluebird in the tree repeatedly dove at the family, but never hit them. Each time the Parkers ducked and huddled, protecting their heads and faces.

  “It’s almost as if it’s saying, ‘Please don’t hurt my baby,’” Mom acknowledged.

  The Parkers tried to scoot along the path, but the distressed baby stayed on the trail, scurrying ahead of them.

  After another attack on the Parkers, the mother bluebird again retreated to the juniper tree. Finally the baby bird hopped off the trail. Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad ran past until they were all at a safe distance.

  When the Parkers were far enough away, they stopped and looked back. The adult bird was still in the tree, but the baby was now out of sight.

  “Well, that was a first,” Mom said while catching her breath.

  “The baby sure see
med scared,” Morgan said.

  “Maybe it was hungry,” James mused. “Its mouth was always open.”

  “And the mom,” Dad added. “So powdery blue.”

  After a while the Parkers reached a sign marking a short side trail to several backcountry campsites.

  The Parkers took the path to CP3. Nestled against a large boulder was a flat, juniper-shaded site, right in the middle of Chesler Park.

  The Parkers shed their packs and began preparing lunch.

  The family lounged in the shade much of the day—Dad reading, Mom sketching, and the twins writing. Later, as the sun began to dip below the rocky spires, the air seemed to take a nice cool breath. Dad stirred the chili for dinner and said, “It doesn’t get any better than this, does it?”

  15

  Lucky Us

  Just after sunset the Parkers began putting away their supplies from dinner.

  Mom paused to gaze at the last splashes of light spraying across the grasslands and the fading pinkish hue on the towering pinnacles.

  A tan-colored animal ran swiftly toward the middle of the park. “Hey, everyone, look,” Mom whispered.

  Morgan, James, and Dad came over to Mom.

  The coyote bounded along, unaware of being observed.

  Suddenly the animal stopped. It tilted its head up and began yipping.

  Off in the distance another coyote answered the call. And soon still another joined in the chorus.

  Eventually several coyotes trotted into view.

  “The gathering of the clan,” Dad announced.

  The coyotes nuzzled up to each other and playfully pranced around. Then suddenly, the pack froze, staring across Chesler Park.

  “They see something,” Mom realized.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad scanned the grasslands framed by the circle of rocks behind them. Morgan was first to see movement, a glimpse of a larger animal with its tail flicking behind it. “Look!” Morgan exclaimed while pointing it out.

  The animal weaved slowly between the grasses. Meanwhile Mom pulled out binoculars and found the animal through the lenses. “It’s a mountain lion, and it’s dragging something,” she whispered.

  The cat dropped its cache to the ground and looked toward the Parkers.

  “Oops, now we’ve done it,” Mom said, gulping nervously.

  The cougar flicked its tail back and forth.

  Mom and Dad put their arms around the twins. The Parkers huddled close. “Just stay together,” Mom coached, “and we’ll be fine. It’s a long way off.”

  “It already has its dinner anyway,” James tried to reassure himself with a shaky voice. “Whatever it dropped in the grass.”

  The Parkers heard the coyotes again and turned back to look. Meanwhile the large cat picked up its catch and continued lugging it along. “It’s a deer,” Morgan said as the cat hauled its food several yards farther.

  A moment later the cat dropped the deer and let out a high-pitched wail.

  The family stood still, mesmerized by the eerie call. “That,” Mom shuddered, “just gave me goose bumps.”

  Even though the cat was a good distance away, Mom and Dad guided the family back against the rocks. Dad picked up a large, thick stick and noticed several decent-size stones strewn about. He scooted several of them closer with his foot without taking his eyes off the cougar. “Something to throw at it if needed,” Dad explained.

  Suddenly the lion crouched down. The Parkers watched the coyotes and the mountain lion as they appeared to be sizing each other up across the field. Mom held onto James and Morgan. “We are very lucky to see you,” she spoke softly to the large cat. “But please don’t come any closer.”

  Morgan glanced up at Mom. “It’s not after us though, is it?”

  “No,” Mom replied. “Still, we have to be careful around a carnivore that size.”

  “Have you ever seen a mountain lion before?” James inquired.

  “Never in all my years of backpacking and hiking . . . ,” Mom said with awe.

  The cat continued to glare at the pack of coyotes.

  Meanwhile a few of the coyotes began loping toward the cougar. In a moment, two approached the cat from one side, came up to its behind, and tried nipping at it.

  The cat turned and chased the intruders off, just as two more coyotes attacked from the other side. The mountain lion sideswiped one coyote, sending it tumbling into the brush.

  Soon the cat was circled by the barking and growling coyote pack. The cat continued to twirl and whirl, trying to ward off each assault.

  The cougar wailed again, sending another chilling call across Chesler Park. Then it hissed and pounced onto a coyote, temporarily pinning it down.

  Two coyotes attacked from the other side. The cougar whipped around, freeing the pinned coyote, who instantly chased after the cat again.

  The cougar called out again, this time sounding more distressed. It crouched down and watched the four animals slowly close in on it. The cat snarled at them and swiped its paws at the air several times while staying close to the dead deer.

  Finally it gave up, dashing away into the protection of some rocks. Immediately the coyote clan dove into the deer carcass and began tearing away small chunks of meat.

  By then it was nearly dark.

  Mom took a breath and looked at her family. “You two,” she spoke directly to the twins, “are sleeping between Dad and me in the tent tonight.”

  “And it’s time we head in there,” Dad added. “I think our gory Animal Planet show is wrapping up.”

  “Before we do,” Mom suggested, “we should all go to the bathroom while there is still some light. I’ll take Morgan and you take James.”

  “You’re right,” Dad agreed. “I don’t think any of us will want to get out of the tent tonight.”

  The two pairs each walked only as far as they had to from the campsite. A moment later they all met back by the tent. The Parkers quickly got inside and nestled, snug in their cocoon.

  “Wow” was all James could think of saying.

  “You can say that again,” Morgan added.

  “Wow,” the family echoed.

  16

  Sanctuary in the Shade

  As the bright morning light quickly warmed the area, the Parkers ate breakfast to the views of Chesler Park. Birds chirped and sang in the distance.

  “Did you hear the coyotes last night?” Dad asked his tired family.

  “How could we not?” James replied.

  “But it is so nice and serene now,” Mom reflected. “This place is so special, and what we witnessed last night is gone. Poof!”

  “We hope,” Dad replied.

  After breakfast the family packed up and resumed their loop trail backpack.

  Once they left CP3, the trail dropped down between some large boulders. Then stairs cut into the rocks led the family deep into a hidden underworld.

  As the Parkers plummeted into the shadows, Dad announced, “As if we haven’t already seen enough phenomenal scenery.”

  Soon the family was walking in the cool, shady chasm known as the Joint. Morgan reached out and touched the walls of the slot canyon as they tramped by.

  The Joint

  “Now this is chilly,” Mom announced. “It’s got to be at least twenty degrees cooler in here.”

  “I feel like we just walked into a giant refrigerator,” James added.

  The trail continued, winding between canyon walls and boulders over thirty feet high. Only a few small spots of sun reached to the canyon floor where the Parkers walked.

  They marched on, passing other joints, or fractures in the rocks, leading to side canyons that also beckoned exploration.

  The trail dropped down even farther into a deeper, darker, more mysterious underworld. Morgan shivered, noticing a tiny bit of steam coming out of her mouth as she breathed.

  A few small lizards crawling along the vertical canyon walls scampered away as the Parkers passed by.

  At one point Dad stopped and surveye
d the whole rocky underworld. “I think this is where Journey to the Center of the Earth was filmed,” he jokingly announced.

  The canyon bottom trail was now well over fifty feet deep. Soon it got even deeper. And cooler.

  Morgan spontaneously called out, “Hey, everyone!”

  “Hey, everyone!” the rock walls replied.

  A notched tree stump propped against a rock helped lead the Parkers farther down. “What a mysterious place this is,” Mom remarked. “Although it is kind of claustrophobic.”

  Cool breezes wafted against the family’s faces. Shortly after, the narrow slot canyon opened up into a large, underground room.

  There the Parkers observed a fantasyland of man-made rock cairns and stone piles.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad surveyed the pillars and tiny monuments of rock scattered about the area.

  Dad gasped in awe. “There are hundreds of these things in here,” he exclaimed. “I guess this is part of the experience in the Joint. Usually in national parks you have to leave things alone, just as they were created by nature.”

  The family milled around the cavernous room, inspecting the creations. “Here’s a tiny one,” James called out.

  “Look at this one,” Morgan shouted. Then she studied the precariously positioned display a little closer. “I wonder how long it will stay standing.”

  “It kind of looks like a little Balanced Rock,” Mom added.

  James found a miniature pile of rocks placed into a tiny, natural hole in a rock wall. “Look at this one,” he whispered, to protect the fragile discovery from crashing down with his breath.

  The family spent several more minutes wandering around and admiring the man-made rock piles. Morgan took a bunch of pictures. And Mom did a quick sketch of the display she nicknamed “Mini Balanced Rock.”

  Eventually the Parkers gathered together on a large, flat rock nearby. There Mom and Dad pulled out snacks, and the family sat down and ate.