Escalante River to Chop Rock Canyon
Examining our topo map, another side-canyon beckoned–Choprock Canyon. It’s on the other side of the Escalante, and not over a mile away from camp. Our plan for the next day was to do a day hike there. After breakfast, We thrashed down through the nasty walls of tamarisk bordering the Escalante, and forded the river. The knee-deep water was easy to walk in if you were wearing boots, but Reed had elected to wear Crocs. They were so sloppy, he had no traction, and the shoes’ big holes let sand and gravel get inside. Mostly, I just waded in wearing my big boots. The wet insides and soaking socks caused me no problems. Chuck wore river shoes all the time, both in the water and on land. For the first 3 days, they were fine.
After we got into Chop Rock, there were no tamarisks. We found that to be true in most of the side-canyons. For some reason, tamarisks infested only the big canyons. We followed the twists and turns up Chop Rock for a mile or so, and took the right branch at a fork. We stopped when it came to an abrupt cul-de-dac where a dry waterfall dropped from a narrow cleft about 30 feet up. A mysterious Greek PSI marked the point where the waterfall would be gushing out after a rainfall. Is the PSI a natural freak of algae or moss? Is it a petroglyph? Hard to say.
Reed had spoken earlier about iridescence of the desert varnish. We saw it several places in Chop Rock. Desert varnish is usually black or brown. Here, with the canyon wall illuminated at an angle by the lowering sun, in many places it was an iridescent blue. We also peered up at concentric semi-circles in the rock of the walls. The semi-circles in some cases looked painted on the walls, in other places, they appeared to be carved. I asked Chuck, our transient geologist about the reason for the arcs. “Concoidal fracturing”, was his answer. But the process itself had never been explained to him, and so we left the side canyon only having learned a new geological phrase, but essentially unilluminated.
We wondered about the llama trips. Several places we had spotted llama tracks, and we had heard about llama trips starting down the river from the town of Escalante. How do the llamas penetrate the bamboo-like walls of tamarisk that line the river? Whenever a meander pinned us between a wall and the river, we were forced to find a ford and then struggle through to the bank. Often, if we couldn’t find a well-beaten trail (and some times even if we could), we’d have to hunt up and down stream for a place we could hack through the tami walls. (Oh for a light saber!) It wasn’t ever a pleasant exercise, and it was hard to imagine a llama doing it. No horse or burro could.
Here and there on sloping canyon walls, there appeared to be patches of snow. Impossible! Coming closer we saw that it was immense spreads of Cottonwood Cotton. Immediately I thought of a use for it. Chuck had been feeling pain in his heel where a blister had appeared. He put two layers of moleskin on it. But would Cottonwood cotton have done as well?
On one of the canyon walls we saw a petroglyph carved by a Mormon explorer. 1 8 T 1917, or perhaps I B T 1917. Was this guy trapped by snow or a flood, or running out of food? The canyons have many mysteries.
Back at camp while cooking dinner, we watched some bumble bees chasing each other around a big dead log. Was this a territorial battle, or a mating ritual? Two bees chased each other madly, apparently colliding at one point in their trajectories. One of the bees headed away and circled a nearby cottonwood tree. Then he sped full tilt into the tree and bounced off it to the ground. He staggered a bit, then stopped and fell over dead. Reed picked him up and we looked at him. Was it suicide by a spurned lover? Or had he been damaged–maybe blinded–by a fight with his rival?
When the sun set, we watched the moon through the black spidery branches of the cottonwoods. Venus and Saturn sparkled in the west and south. There was too much moonlight to see the Milky Way until long after bed time. Chuck said he saw it at about 2 am when he got up to answer nature’s call. I promised myself that I’d get up, but I blew z’s soundly all night long.
Photo Gallery
–rakkity
