San Rafael Swell -- Day 2

I have no idea what time it was when I first heard a strange ruckus approaching my tent. All I know is that it was very early in the morning, and that it had to be pretty loud to wake me up from my deep slumber. I'd been driving long dusty miles around the northern and central parts of the San Rafael Swell the day before and I was bushed.

The rude interruption was not welcome.

As curious as I was to find out what could be making such a bizarre noise (it sounded like someone was slowly tumbling a bag full of empty aluminum cans), I was just too tired. Anyone who has camped alone for significant amounts of time in the backcountry learns how to ignore strange things that go bump in the night.

By 6:30, light filled my tent and I started to think about our impending hike down The Chute of Muddy Creek. Then I remembered the odd disturbance. Was it a dream?

It was no dream. Again, I heard the sound, this time right overhead. An inexplicable metallic clawing, louder than ever. Now everyone was awake and peeking outside their tents. I couldn't take it anymore. I unzipped my tent, shoved my sandals on and looked skyward.  It was a huge porcupine, and it had roosted high on a cottonwood tree limb directly above my tent.

He didn't seem to mind all of the commotion we caused below. He had chosen his bed for the day (porcupines are nocturnal) and much like I hadn't budged earlier in morning, he likewise was not letting anything disturb his beauty rest.

A porcupine sleeps above my tent near Tomsich Butte.

We headed down the Muddy not quite knowing what to expect. I had been closely monitoring online stream gauges so I knew the spring runoff had not yet began. During peak runoff, let's just say a kayak or canoe would be necessary to safely descend The Chute. Even though stream levels were fairly low, I'd heard of some possible deep swimming holes. For example, Michael Kelsey reported in his latest guidebook three deep holes including a short swim as recently as 2010.  Ready for anything, we brought along drybags.

Hector, Matt, and Eros hike along the dry banks of the Muddy River.

The canyon starts out wide open with vertical Wingate walls towering overhead. Abandoned uranium mines are easily spotted along the cream Mossback ledge below the Wingate cliffs.

We were just warming up and getting into a good pace when we hit our first deep hole. But how? We weren't even close to the narrows of The Chute. Why were we hitting chest-deep water where the canyon is so wide open?

Looking downstream, the answer was obvious. A tall column of the Moody Canyon Member of the Moenkopi Formation had collapsed across the river creating a natural dam. It was really a cool thing to see, and it's something that won't last long. It'll take just a single good flood to wash the dam out.

A rock-fall dam backs up Muddy Creek.

Heading downcanyon, the Muddy cuts deeper into the core of the broad anticline known as the San Rafael Swell. Thus, older rock layers are exposed as you near The Chute. Within a few miles of the trailhead, the stream begins to cut deeply into the Permian-age Cedar Mesa Sandstone. Similar to the much more common slot-former--the Jurassic Navajo Sandstone--Cedar Mesa strata weathers into similar patterns and also exhibits large-scale cross beds. In contrast to the red and white hues of the Navajo, Cedar Mesa sandstone is a soft yellow.

Aaron leads the way through the initial narrows section.

Morning sun manages to reach the bottom of a narrows section along The Chute of Muddy Creek.

Once in The Chute, we anticipated a deep hole around just about every corner. We had amped ourselves up so much for a "swimmer", we actually began to be disappointed when we turned a corner and saw more of the same calf-deep water. While the water never did get higher than our knees (not including the rock-fall dam which we could have easily avoided), the beauty of the canyon still captivated.

The Chute Gang stops for lunch; from left to right: Eros, Aaron, Hector, Matt, and myself.  Hector Photo.

Aaron looks on as Hector works his way up a dry fall near the mouth of Music Canyon.

Near the deepest part of The Chute, a narrow tributary known as Music Canyon joins from the north. To add a little excitement to the hike, we headed up Music to see how far we could get. Music is a true slot that has been delicately sculpted by countless floods. After helping each other up and over several obstacles, we reached a tall sloping dry fall that looked doable but was just beyond our comfort level. Music is a fairly popular canyon to descend with rappelling gear, and after seeing just a bit of the bottom end, I can understand why.

Matt pauses in one of the wider sections of the Music Canyon slot.

Matt descends an obstacle in Music Canyon.

Below Music Canyon, The Chute reaches its deepest point near where a large log jam looms a good 40 feet overhead. From there, the height of the canyon walls gradually decreases as you approach the Hidden Splendor trailhead.

The famous log jam of Muddy Creek has been there for several decades. It's amazing how long wood can be preserved in the arid desert.  It will likely take another once-in-a-lifetime flood to dislodge the mess.

I never paid too much attention to the time but I figure it took us about 8 hours to complete the 15-mile hike including a good lunch break and about 45 minutes goofing around in Music Canyon. A good hike. Not on par with the Zion Narrows or Death Hollow, for example, but a good and easy stroll through a deep watery canyon.

That afternoon in camp my Dad had dozed off in his chair beneath the shady cottonwood. A sharp whack to the head had him jumping to his feet and swiping at the air to fend off the attacking porcupine. When the dust settled, it was apparent that the feisty beast was actually a rogue lid blown off a storage tote by a strong gust of wind.

Turns out, the porcupine didn't budge all day other than to relieve himself on my tent! As we cooked dinner that evening around the fire, our quilled friend decided it was time to wake up and we watched him climb down the tree and waddle into the sunset.

Spring trip to The Swell--Day 1

Somehow, one of Utah's greatest geological oddities and most scenic areas--the San Rafael Swell--has managed to escape becoming part of the U.S. National and Utah State Parks systems. While its beauty and recreational opportunities rival those of nearby National Parks, you don't have to deal with the over-regulation that plagues the popular parks. High admission fees? How about no entry fees whatsoever. Camping fees? Nope, just find one of countless previously used campsites throughout the Swell and you're good. Standing in line at 6 am to get a limited hiking permit? No hoops to jump through here.

I was joined by my Dad, brothers Matt and Eros, Eros's son Aaron, and nephew Hector for my latest excursion into the Swell. Our short 3-day trip was centered around a 15-mile hike through The Chute of Muddy Creek. There was also one mountain bike ride, with most of the remaining time devoted to rock art.

Realizing that I'd beat the rest of my family (coming from the Salt Lake City area) to the predetermined meeting spot at Castle Dale, I figured I had just enough time to stop and photograph the Rochester panel east of Emery.

There's lots to take in at the Rochester panel.

Some common elements we noticed in San Rafael area rock art are snakes, winged figures, and figures with wide-set E.T.-like eyes.

Even though everyone on the trip are not bikers, I convinced everyone to bring whatever bike they could find so they didn't miss the opportunity to ride one of Utah's newest and most scenic singletracks--the Good Water Rim. The trail starts near The Wedge overlook and follows the rim along the "Little Grand Canyon" gorge of the San Rafael River before continuing on along the rim of Good Water.

Man, I'm loosing my nerve in my old age. Here, I'm completely freaking out about a foot from the rim. I used to be able to tight rope cliffs like this without blinking. Don't worry, the real trail never gets this close to the edge, it's just me being stupid. Matt Photo.

The San Rafael's Little Grand Canyon.

Eros goofing around at the Little Grand Canyon overlook.

Aaron and Eros cruise along the Good Water Rim. Despite all of the Navajo Sandstone exposed in the canyon walls, don't expect Moab-like smooth slickrock.  A thin layer of Carmel limestone capping the Navajo makes the trail surface fairly choppy.

Looking down Good Water Canyon.

Hector got this sweet sequence shot with his fancy new camera. I'm well overdue for a camera upgrade myself.

After the bike ride, we hit several points of interest down the Buckhorn Wash Road as we made our way toward our camp at Tomsich Butte.

I purposely left out the details when I mentioned to everyone prior to the trip that we'd be visiting the Morrison-Knudsen tunnels. You see, my brother Matt Knudsen married a Morrison, and I knew everybody would be scratching their heads as to what I could possibly be talking about out here in the middle of nowhere. There's not as much to see these days now that they have sealed off the tunnels. Still a bit of interesting history though (try and read the print in this photo of an information kiosk in Buckhorn Draw). Rumor has it that if the Navajo Sandstone would have passed the "explosives test," NORAD and other military facilities very well could have ended up here in the San Rafael Swell instead of deep within a granite mountain in Colorado.

Known as the "cattle guard" rock art site, these petroglyphs are rather unusual because they are not pecked into a dark desert varnish like most other carvings I've seen in the southwest. The lack of contrast makes them a little hard to see and even harder to photograph.

This single huge dinosaur track in the Navajo Sandstone can be found a few feet off of the the Buckhorn Wash Road.

Outlaw-turned-Peace Officer Matt Warner first met then-19-year-old Butch Cassidy in Telluride Colorado in 1885.  Together they raced horses with some rustling on the side until successfully robbing a Telluride bank in 1889. They later went their separate ways with Butch eventually forming the Wild Bunch Gang.  After a string of robberies and nearly 4 years in prison, Warner gave up the outlaw life. By the time he crawled up this ledge in Buckhorn Draw to write his name in 1920, he had been elected Justice of the Peace in nearby Price.  Warner died in 1938.

Although heavily vandalized in the past, the Buckhorn Draw pictographs are still an amazing sight.  The Barrier Canyon style of art seen here is at least 2,000 years old.

One interpretation of the bizarre Buckhorn panel is that the scene depicts Shamans transforming into supernatural or animal-like beings.

Buckhorn Wash pictographs.

Buckhorn Wash pictographs.

Buckhorn Wash.

The red angels of Buckhorn Wash.

Despite being in hurry to get to our campsite at Tomsich Butte in the southern part of the Swell, I insisted we make the short detour to view the exquisite Head of Sinbad pictographs.

More Barrier Canyon style art at Head of Sinbad.

Although several thousand years old, the Head of Sinbad pictographs are extremely well preserved and have yet to be vandalized.

Look into the hollow eyes of this ancient E.T. and you may be caught in a hypnotic trance.

We arrived at Tomsich just before sundown, through up our tents, had dinner, and fell asleep anxiously awaiting our big hike in the morning through "The Chute."

Camp along Muddy Creek in the shadows of Tomsich Butte.

Kodachrome Basin State Park

In the shadows of Bryce Canyon National Park lies a little-known Utah State Park that makes a convenient base camp for exploring Bryce and the upper Paria portion of the Grand Staircase National Monument. Kodachrome Basin offers unique red-rock scenery, famous for its intriguing "sand pipes," and it has among the best and cleanest amenities in a state park I've seen. The park has a number of short and interesting hikes, but more adventurous families will certainly want to venture outside the park to a number of nearby must-see attractions. For younger kids, the Upper Cottonwood Wash Narrows, Willis Creek, and Grosvenor Arch are an easy drive away. Serious hikers will want to hit Round Valley Draw and Bull Valley Gorge. Fishing at either Pine Lake or Tropic Reservoir will provide some relaxing down time between hikes. History buffs will want to visit the Widtsoe ghost town and cemetery, the Georgetown cemetery, and the Elijah Averret grave site in Averret Canyon.

Here are a few highlights of our trips to Kodachrome over the years:

View of Kodachrome State Park's campground from the Angel's Palace Trail. Flush toilets, hot showers, and very very clean.

View to the west from Angel's Palace Trail. A number of sand pipe monoliths are visible in the mid-distance.

One of the larger sand pipes along the Grand Parade Trail. Rather unusual for a Utah State Park, there are two trails within Kodachrome Basin that are open to mountain bikes (the other being the Panorama Trail).

Coasting by the Ballerina sand pipe on the Panorama Trail.  Many theories exist to explain Kodachrome's sand pipes. Personally, I like the idea of them being  petrified liquefaction features.  Imagine a large magnitude earthquake rocking layered sand deposits near the shore of a Jurassic age sea (~150 million years ago). The intense ground motion thrusts saturated sand (white) up through drier, more dense sand above (red), finally reaching the surface to create a "sand volcano." Although the volcanoes at the surface are now long gone, the inner plumbing of the volcanoes have since turned to stone and are what form the pipes seen today.

The biking at Kodachrome Basin is far from epic, but challenging sand traps and fantastic scenery keep things interesting.



The "Cool Cave" found along the Big Bear portion of the ever-expanding Panorama Trail. It is legal to ride through this short slot, which makes for some interesting photos.



Cool Cave.

Cool Cave.

Chukars are common at Kodachrome. Try the short paved Nature Trail at dusk for a good chance to see them. This guy let us walk right up to him.

Mighty Grosvenor Arch -- a short drive from Kodachrome Basin.

The Upper Cottonwood Wash Narrows are a favorite with kids.



The full Bull Valley Gorge/Willis Creek loop is a must for experienced hikers looking for adventure. The first few miles of Willis Creek down from the Skutumpah Road is the ticket if kids are in tow.



Willis Creek narrows.

The fam in Willis Creek.

A clear, cool stream almost always flows in Willis Creek, raising the fun factor a couple of notches.

A description for the colorful "Cannonville slots" can be found in Michael Kelsey's guidebook for the Paria River. While there are a few photogenic spots in the area, your time is probably best spent elsewhere.  Access update to Kelsey's book: Bob Ott and his wife no longer run the cabins & concessionaire at Kodachrome S.P., you must call them for permission to access the slots (435.679.8787). Very nice folks.

Playing around in the Cannonville slots.

As you hike between the two main slots at Cannonville, keep an eye out for this nifty toadstool. It wont be around much longer!