Grand Gulch & Lake Powell Utah /2011

April 14th Double click pictures to make them larger-Thanks
After a great deal of planning, Pam, Dave Guzy and I had our truck loaded with back pack equipment pointed towards Grand Gulch Utah. The Grand Gulch is a place like no other in the good old USA. It has more Anasazi ruins than anywhere else in the Southwest. It's like Mesa Verde on steroids, but at this site one can walk up to the sites and get a personal attachment to the surroundings. When you're down there it may seem like yesterday that the Anasazi left this place and moved to Arizona and became the Hopi and Pueblos tribes but it has been hundreds of years. The ruins have that kind of pull on your spirit.
The Anasazi people inhabited Cedar Mesa in Grand Gulch between 850 AD and 1300 AD. They also lived in the surrounding Four Corners Area (Colorado, New mexico, Arizona, and utah) at the most famous residence, Mesa Verde and other locations in Chaco Canyon, Bandelier, Hovenweep, Canyon de Chelley, to name a few.
The one thing common to all of the sites was corn, grown on the mesa tops, in moist canyon seeps. Anasazi corn was much smaller thanour corn of today, but it, along with beans and squash was highly nutritious. In August , fresh corn was gathered by the ancient ones to be roasted in fire pits or baked in outdoor ovens or stewed in boiling water. The first picked corn was dumped into earthen pits with hot embers and sealed over with earth to steam all day long.At feast time, the pits were opened and hot steaming corn on the cob was served to all. After the first feast of summer, women ground the shucked and roasted corn placed in stone metates and pulverized with stone manos into very fine meal ( unfortunately with bits of sandstone). This fine corn meal was stored for winter use when it was made into corn mush or a thin gruel that was served as a hot drink to ward off the cold dampness of the cliff dwellings. In autumn the corn was stored (mostly on the cob) in large storage chambers and later ground into a fine paste to be baked as corn bread sometimes mixed with pine nuts and served with roasted deer and /or bighorn sheep meat.Of course, not all years were plentiful and sometimes severe droughts lasted several years or more.
It was never assumed that corn would grow in abundance year after year. Anasazi priests conducted ceremonies in underground kivas for corn to be successfully planted, for the corn to grow and mature, and for it to be harvested. Corn had to be offered in the six directions: North, West, South, East, and to the Sky above and the Earth below. It is no small coincidence that the Anasazi were blessed with six different colors of corn, each color representing a sacred direction: Yellow corn was offered to the North and blue to the West. Red corn was offered to the South, white to the East, speckled corn to the Sky and black corn to the Earth below.
If sufficient rain did not fall on the growing crops, or unusually cold weather remained through the summer months, mankind was out of balance with nature. It was up to the priests to restore that balance. However, if bad weather persisted year after year, the people would no longer trust their priests and sometimes rebellions would occur.
Religious belief and practice infused every aspect of life for the Anasazi, and it continues today for many of their Pueblo descendants. The kivas, or ceremonial chambers, were gathering places for ritual activity. There were ceremonies attached to every aspect of their lives from harvesting to road-making, from hospitality to controlling the forces of nature. The gods and spirits were called on through rituals to exercise their powers-grant blessings, provide protection, heal and restore. The Anasazi worshipped the powerful forces of nature- the sun, rain,moon. They believed in the sacredness of the earth and referred to it as mother earth. The sun was considered the father and the night father was the moon. They believed that everything had a spirit-humans, animals, rocks, and plants. Therefore they believed that everything had to be treated with respect.
Many of the ruins have lots of broken pottery sherds.Many believe that the pottery was delibertely broken as part of a sacred ritual. The pottery was an offering. If the pot was left whole it might be picked up and taken off to be used by someone else. If the offering pot was broken, there would be nothing left by pottery. The sherds, now of no use to anyone but the spirits, would be left untouched.
The Anasazi descendants of today believe that these sites possess spiritual power and that the souls of the Pueblo people still exist in the ruins today. The Pueblo people of today rarely enter the ruins but when they do they will make offerings of corn pollen and to pray to their ancestors.
The Anasazi of Grand Gulch used a number of native plants for food, medicine, housing,clothing, and ornamentation. Indian rice grass was probably the most important of the native grasses because of its large seeds, which could be harvested in early summer and ground into meal for bread. Fruits of the prickly pear cactus were peeled and eaten, and the peeled and roasted leaves were an important food source. The Anasazi also used fourwing saltbush, blackbrush, Morman tea, wild turnips and potatoes, rose hips, and sunflower seeds. The narrowleaf yucca's sword-like leaves were woven into baskets and sandals, and the leaf fibers were spun into cords for fine quality sandals and bags. Yucca roots were used for soap, and the base of the plant was roasted and eaten, as were the fruits of a related plant, the broadleaf yucca. Pinon pine was a valuable source of housing material, fuel, and food; a good crop of protein-rich pinon nuts could be harvested every few years. wood from juniper trees provided the high temperature needed for firing pottery, and juniper bark was used for roofing shelters and padding cradleboards.This concludes a little bit of the history that the reader might find interesting.

With 8 hour windshield time behind us from Denver we checked into our motel in Blanding Utah. With some extra time on our hands we drove to Natural Bridges National Monument, to see wonders of nature, large natural bridges made out of solid sand stone, created by the combination of wind, ice and water. The canyons holding these bridges were deep and spectacular.

April 15th
With our back packs in the upright and locked postions, we drove to the Kane Gulch Ranger station. I already had our permits but we still had to check in with MR. and Mrs Ranger Rick. We had to watch a video about the do's and don't in the Grand Gulch primitive area. The movie was very well done and supplied us with lots of information about the people that lived here and what would happen if we were disrespectful to their dwellings. Dave and I had to drop my truck off at the Bullet Canyon trailhead which is where we would end our hiking for three days and 21 miles later. I had my canoe with me since when this back pack trip ended I would start another adventure on Lake Powell, and pam and Dave would drive home.

With all of our gear and permits in order our group of Three Musketeers were ready to set off at 10:00 am. The first part of the Kane Gulch trail is through scrubby bushes and is not very excitng. Very shortly though the landscape turns into giant rocks decorated with aspen trees. The aspen trees have been here for thousands of years, long before the Anasazi or sore footed back packers. The glaciers of the ice age moving from the north dropped aspen seeds in the gulch as it slowly melted, and from the seeds mighty aspen grew. Their cousins are still way up north, believe it or not!

After 4 miles of walking and observing everything the Kane Gulch had to offer we stood in front of our first cliff dwelling at the junction of Kane Gulch and Grand Gulch. Everyone couldn't wait to walk up to the structure and breath in the same atoms and molecules that the ancient ones did thousands of years ago. The dwellings are always built in cave like structures that are south facing. Long before the Anasazi wondered into this area the softer sandstone had eroded away to form these open cave like structures. These people used the stone structures that nature provided as a roof and back wall to their homes. The front and maybe the sides where then walled up with stones and mud. Sometimes Anasazi graffiti or pictrographs can be observed on the walls of these dwellings. A simple drawing can make one seem like he had won the lottery when it is found.

The next ruin was called Turkey Pen. When cowboys where looking for cattle, they ventured down in this gulch and they observed pens made to hold turkeys around this ruin. The pens are long gone but the dwellings are still here. We sat down and had lunch with one eye on our food and the other on the many ruins along the gulch.

After lunch we passed by our first arch named Stimper Arch, and we wondered if the Anasazi could have climbed all the way up to the arch. The reason we wondered is because many of the dwellings are so high up that professional climbers with nylon ropes would have a tough time reaching these dwellings.

After 7 hours of hiking and exploring we came to Todie Canyon, our camping spot for the night. Last year when I had camped here there was water at the junction. This year must be a little drier because the water had left the canyon. Dave walked up the canyon and I hiked down the gulch looking for water. Dave found a great spring about a 1/8 of a mile up the canyon that would provide all the water we would need. As we set up camp a group of hikers strolled through camp on the way up to the same spring. The solid rock walls of the canyon made for a perfect echo chamber like effect whenever this group of campers broke into a laughing contest that was fueled with whiskey. We knew exactly when they went to bed and when the woke up even though they where a 1/8 of a mile away.

April 16th
Woke to clear crisp skies and there was 7 miles ahead of us before the next camp site at Bullet Canyon. The first natural sight was at a place called Pour Off Pool. The soft sand gave way to solid rock of the Grand Gulch valley at this point. The large pool was formed below a large rock overhang that would make a magnificent waterfall during a rainfall. The rain must have been quite a few months ago because the pool water had this coffee colored appearance that a person dying of thirst would have second thoughts about touching their lips to.

At lunch time we again had the privilage of eating lunch by another ruin called Split Level. An Anasazi contractor must have taken a dwelling and added a second floor to the structure. When ever we came to a dwelling, especially the ones not listed on the map, it was like discovering a new world.

The rock walls of the canyons seemed to be holding in the heat a little bit more today, like a Easy Bake Oven. After lunch everybody's strength seemed to be draining away. We took a break by a structure known as The Thumb because you guessed it the shape was a thumb pointing straight up. After this structure, according to the map there was to be a canyon with a Green Mask pictograph on the rock wall. I think because of the heat cooking our brains, we walked right by without noticing, and continued on to our campsite ASCP! The Bullet Canyon and Grand Gulch junction could make for a perfect campsite, except of lack of fresh water. After much discusion we decided to carry on up the Bullet Canyon to Jailhouse Springs. It was over 2 miles but there would be fresh water and would save us 2 miles tomorrow. Pam had enough with carrying a pack already. I fastened her pack behind mine and after a hour of fast walking I found some sweet, cool and fresh water under some sweet, cool shade trees at Jailhouse Springs.

After scouting the area I found the perfect campsite above the valley floor and it came with its' own Anasazi ruin, at no extra charge. There was plenty of water that Dave and I fetched. After a meal of freeze dried meals we went exploring and heard our old friends from the last campsite just laughing and having a grand time.

April 17th
Last day in the canyon and 5 miles ahead of us. Within a hour we came to a small campsite with three campers. They pointed out Jailhouse Ruins and the unusual paintings above the dwellings. One white moon face had two large eyes like an alien. We dropped our packs and crawled up as close as we could to the multi roomed dwellings. After a hour of exploring we were on to the next stop the Perfect Kiva. The side canyon held the Perfect Kiva and it was quite the climb to get to its' placement. It was well worth the sweat and the scrapped knees. A kiva is a ceremonial room that was built by the Anasazi and still is used by the Pueblo tribes today. A long ladder leads down to the room with dirt floor and adobe walls. The ancient people prayed for rain and a good harvest. We also found stones that the people used to grind corn outside of the kiva.

We followed the trail as best we could over large and even larger boulders to reach the trail head, where my truck was parked. It was with great relief when the truck stood before us. But it was also knowing what a privilege it was to explore the Grand Gulch.

While Pam and Dave drove back to Denver, I drove to Hite, Lake Powell. I had heard every kind of story about Lake Powell and knew it was time to experience it myself. I had heard that the water level had dropped dramatically over the past years and had dropped even more with Lake Mead down river needing additional water. I pulled into the ranger station at Hite and noticed that it was deserted with a lone camper in the parking lot. I asked the camper if I could launch a boat here? "I launched a boat here last year, without a problem, but the water level has dropped 90 feet since then!" he said. I drove down to the boat ramp, which was a 6 lane concrete perfect constructed runway to a 1/8 mile of mud. I couldn't even see the mighty Colorado River. When I got out of my truck I noticed the other thing people had told me about Lake Powell, "THE WINDS" I couldn't open the truck door because the wind blew that hard. A sand storm had made the area seem like a movie set for Lawrence of Arabia. I noticed a fishing boat beside a brick building, the only building that wouldn't be blown down. Two fisherman were in the process of cleaning a few fish. I found out that the boat loading ramp had been moved to a road a mile to the west. I also found out from my new found friends that the water was forming 2 foot white caps because of the winds, along this channel. If I had a death wish I could take my 12 foot canoe out into the water.

Change of plans were in order after filling up my truck on $4.20 a gallon gas at Hite. I would drive back to White canyon and launch my canoe there. I drove along the highway and noticed a sign that read "NO BOAT LAUNCH AT WHITE CANYON -DROUGHT" How about Farley Canyon, that might work. The dirt and solid rock road lead me to a small camping area on top a of a mesa that was being torn apart with strong wind gusts. I drove on until the red dirt road slanted 20 degrees down and 20 degrees towards the side. I parked my white truck at the top and walked down the road to the lake shore. A couple were fishing without a license, I think because they slid their fishing poles under where they were sitting and kind of whistled and looked at the sky scratching their heads. They must of thought my white truck signaled that I was the game warden. I could see that this little canyon was my last hope, before driving back to Denver without canoeing the lake. I put my truck into four wheel drive and slowly drove down to the water's edge. I loaded up the canoe with camping gear and food for a few days of exploring and fishing. Little did I know this past hour would be the easy part.

The canoe loaded with gear proformed perfectly and I was able to find a small rock outcropping to paddle between. I carried my gear up the draw that was protected by hills on both sides. With the water level dropping so drastically billions of opened shell fish lined the banks. Huge piles of drift wood was 1/8 of a mile from the shore line where it was left high a dry when the water dropped. I opened the tent bag and got ready to set up my shelter for the next couple of days, when I noticed the tent supports had silver tape on them. This was the tent that I had taken to Costa Rica and the airlines had broken the fiberglass supports. I had just been using this tents as parts, I had grabbed the wrong tent! Also the skies where getting darker with rain a possiblity and I didn't have a rain fly with this tent. Remember stay calm, I have another tent in the truck from back packing with out suports, because I left my walking sticks with Dave who was driving back to Denver. I could use this tent as a rain fly and maybe with all the piles of drift wood I could fix the broken supports with duct tape and spit.

I paddled back to the boat launch and walked back to my truck got all the things that one might need to fix a major problem. I just rememebered one of my sayings "THERE'S NEVER A PROBLEM ONLY SOLUTIONS!" I paddled back to my broken tent and went to work, I had found a metal spoon and used that as one of the connectors for the support with major duct tape application. Then I slid over the new tent to work as a rain fly over the old tent and tied it down to ward off the wind gusts that seemed to have found me between two hills.

I had brought along a folding lawn chair and sat down to some warm food that I only needed to heat with my propane stove. I filled up the pot with water and struck a match to the stove and it took off like a champ. Then within minutes the top of the stove was on fire like a blow torch. The large green propane container was getting very hot and I thought the tank might explode. I turned off the propane but it just kept on burning below the stove top, right out of the propane container. I ran down to the shore line since I didn't want to be hit by flying metal when the tank exploded. After a few minutes I slowly walked back to find the tank still burning. I just grabbed it and like the wolf at one of the Three Little Pigs House I blew the flame out. I was just beginning to wonder how much more fun one person could have? I had another tank and hooked it up and it worked fine.

I ate my dinner with out choking, being attacked by coyotes or abducted by aliens, so I felt like my luck might change for the better. I walked down to the shore line and tried my hand at fishing. I saw a lot of fish come to the surface but they where mostly Carp.

April 18th
I slept like a baby under my hobo tent during the night without the rain. I made myself a lunch and headed out onto Lake Powell, for a day of fishing. Farley Bay had strong winds blowing down its channel so I turned back and decided to explore closer to home. Then within the hour the winds calmned down so I paddled and fished towards White Canyon. The scenery was everything you might expect from the Utah red sand stone canyons. The down side was the bath tub ring left from the 90 feet of water that used to be there. A white chalky deposit was left on the red sand stone, so it gave it a ghosty type experience. Don't get me wrong it still looked good, the snow covered distant mountains with the red canyons, and the big puffy clouds.

By the time I paddled to the White Canyon the winds had picked up and I hung along the shore line. I found a small canyon and steered and paddled the canoe into the back corner. I brought out my lunch and sat down to a meal. Piles of drift wood along with a bailer that someone had made littered the shore line. This water bailer might come in handy if I took on water from a wave or two.

After lunch I paddled back towards Farley Canyon and with the wind behind me I just used my paddle as a rudder. I noticed the water was getting a darker brown and there were lots of tree branches and logs floating in the water. I noticed large cliffs on both sides of the channel, then it looked like Hite was at the end of the channel. The wind had pushed me past the Farley Canyon and I was barreling down the Hite channel with 40 mph winds behind me. For the next hour and half I paddled my guts out to get back to Farley Canyon. The waves from the wind where coming over the front of the canoe and the bailer came in handy. I was so glad to see my canyon and calm water, I just found a side canyon and let the gentle breeze blow me around like a feather on the lake surface.

I was glad to be back at camp and made dinner without blowing anything up. After dinner I walked down to the shore line and read the book Endurance about the Shackleton expedition to Antarctic, which made my day seem like childs play. That night I read more of the book in the tent and must have fallen asleep, when I woke to what sounded like cannon fire and a bright lights. Thunder and lightning were putting on quite the show. Because of the solid rock canyons the noise of the thunder claps would echo for maybe ten times. Then the rain started which is nice to hear but I was camped at the end of a draw and if it really rained hard I would become a bit of drift wood, as I was washed out into the lake. After ten long minutes the rain stopped and then it returned with the lightning show. I must have fallen asleep and didn't wake up dead, because the skies had cleared and I was alive.

April 19th
I loaded up the canoe and skipped breakfast, with the thought of paddling my little canoe to safety. It was a relief to land on safe shores and backed the truck down to load up my gear. On the way home I stopped at the steel bridge over the Colorado River. I had the bridge and the river all to myself and what a nice sight it was. Along the highway I found a colorful 4 foot long snake I thought was getting warm on the pavement but it had croaked, maybe its stovie blew up! A little bit farther I found a complete set of rachets tools that had fallen off someone's truck. So I was being rewarded for being off that mean old Lake Powell! ha ha