Angel Arch in Canyonlands

I’ve been eager to get back to Salt Creek Canyon in Canyonlands National Park since exploring Horse Canyon and the southern end of Salt Creek this spring. This trip to Angel Arch made a great overnight backpacking trip.

Rabbitbrush fills the canyon with golden blossoms.

Following the fresh bear tracks for the first two hours. Shouting "hey" around all the blind corners just like when I hiked in Montana. Even though there are "only" black bears in Utah, I still don't want to startle one.

Many people do a one-way hike of Salt Creek Canyon but I just had my two day weekend. An out and back gave me more time to explore side canyons, chase butterflies, and watch clouds.

Seeing the fresh bear tracks made me nervous since I was going solo and tend to be a quiet hiker. So I was happy to meet a friendly couple near the trailhead who were just finishing a long hike who reported they hadn't had any trouble. They also reported that there was only one place with flowing clear water but that I would have no trouble finding it. They were the only people I saw all day so I was glad for such good intel.

After ominous clouds move through all morning, finally large raindrops splash on rocks and fill the air with the scent of rain.

The burn area near the side canyon to Angel Arch.

Angel Arch really is quite spectacular especially in real life and made a satisfying turn-around point.

Trying to hide from the wind behind a juniper. I moved my bear canister far from camp before bed. Thankfully there were no critters to bother me during the night.

On my way back to the trailhead the next day, I saw arches and archaeological sites I had missed on my rush to reach Angel Arch.

How could I have missed this arch the first day?

I used to ignore all the white butterflies thinking they were all the same. But it turns out there are several different species of whites with subtle differences.  Like most everything in nature, there is pleasure in becoming engrossed (and lost) in the small details.

Becker’s white (Pontia beckerii)

Checkered white (Pontia protodice)

There are also more field crescents flying around. I love how they have such variability in coloration within the same species. Seeing how some are very bright, others more dull, some darker, some more orange made me wish I could study them to find out what accounts for all the variation.

Field crescent (Phyciodes pulchella)

More Information

Permits are required for camping in Canyonlands National Park.

Bear canisters are required for overnight trips to Salt Creek Canyon. I brought my own but you can also borrow them for free from the Needles visitor center. You also need to pack out your poop in a wag bag. 

Salt Canyon has a rich history of the Ancestral Puebloan and Fremont peoples. The Salt Creek Archaeological District is on the National Register of Historic Places. I have chosen to not publish my photos of archaeological sites and pictographs that I saw in order to help protect them and to allow others to “discover” them on their own. Do your part to help protect the archaeological sites and pictographs by staying off them and not touching them.

Dates: September 23-24, 2017

Listening to fall in the La Sals

Another solo overnight in the La Sal Mountains of Utah. Once again on the Trans La Sal Trail, further north this time. Autumn is happening quickly in the high country. Leaves have changed dramatically in just a week.

Early in the day, I run into a herd of bikers where the Trans La Sal Trail shares tread with the Whole Enchalada Bike Trail. They laugh and chatter as I scurry quickly, leaping off the trail as they wizz by. Until I reach the next turn and am back on the empty hiking only trail. After they pass, I realize just how quiet it is up here. Except for the distant call of elk bugling.

Gently rustling aspen leaves.

Later in the afternoon, I take a detour on an old road. I see two hunters, apparently father and son. They move quietly and leave few footprints. I wonder if they heard the elk too.

Place of swirling winds.

Since moving back to Utah, I still haven't quite gotten used to the quiet here. Kentucky was a cacophony of grasshoppers, cicadas, and frogs. Loud, boisterous, surround-sound, full of life. Here in Utah, there is mostly silence, other than the elk and wind.

Silently fluttering field crescent (Phyciodes pulchella)

I'd been wondering all day where they are, but the echoing of the calls in the valleys makes them hard to locate. Looking downslope on my way to my chosen campsite reveals the answer. A big bull elk with his head tilted back, the sound emerging. Two females are in the meadow beside him. I'm pretty far away so I don't think they can they see me, but of course I don't approach. Though I wish I had my binoculars.

Calling.

The strange call reminds me of whale, piercing, haunting, beautiful. What would it be like to have a voice like that that penetrates so far?

I climb as high as I can to watch the sunset. Wind gusts driving me back to the shelter of trees and my hidden hammock in the trees above the elk.

Peering into redrock country

Dancing light

Castle Valley

 In my hammock, I slip into my cozy down sleeping bag, down booties and down hat. It was risky camping this high given the forecast calls for freezing temperatures tonight. But for the sunset and the bugling all night, it is worth it.

Worth it.

Wind like a creature, like a freight train. The air is alive, wandering air. I can relate to this wind, always in motion, never managing to stay still. It gains force in the wee hours of the night. Snug, I enjoy being surround by its restless nature.

Morning.

 In the morning, I find a side trail on my map and decide to check it out, following the narrow tread upwards. More bugling in the distance. Listening to myself breathing and thinking how out of shape I still feel, I round the corner and there they are: silky coats, muscles. Elk. My heart races. So close! A branch breaks under my boot and they bolt. Gone.

Trembling aspen

At the end of the side trail, there is a scree field so I continue across on rocks, listening to their hollow sounds under my feet. Trying to spot the pikas that sound their eep-alerts as I approach.

Wandering around on the rock

On my way back to the trailhead, I think about all these sounds, those of the creatures, the wind, and the human sounds. I've been reading this book called "Wild Soundscapes" (by Bernie Krause) that talks about how to study the health of an ecosystem using sounds and why it's important to study changes in soundscapes. Normally, I get preoccupied with visual things and scents, but out here, the natural sounds are just as engaging and unique. I hope they stay wild.

Date hiked: September 16-17, 2017

Return to the La Sal Mountains

I finally made it back to the La Sal Mountains of Utah. The summer flowers have bloomed and most have already gone to seed. The leaves are starting to change. And, they hired me for the entire school year which means that even though I missed summer here, I have a chance to be in this place for a whole fall, winter and spring!

Dusty beardtongue (Penstemon comarrhensus) has woolly anthers and linear leaves, and is only found in the Colorado Plateau region.

Enough time to learn more of the plants and butterflies and see a few more places. Including more of the La Sals that I missed last winter when the snow was still covering them. Possibly enough time to fall even more deeply for this place if I'm not careful.

Western Branded Skipper (Hesperia colorado) are very widespread with highly variable wing patterns.

My backpack seems awfully heavy. Not much backpacking this summer and being at only 750 feet was the price I paid for a rewarding job. Now it’s time to pay the piper, as my friend Jan always says. I feel every breath of mountain air moving into my lungs here at 8-9000 feet.

Gazing upward.

The Trans-LaSal Trail skirts the high peaks. Into and out of valleys, across meadows still filled with butterflies. I gaze at the rocks above, imagining the gorgeous alpine possibilities and jaw-dropping views of the high country, as my trail plunges me further down into the valley.

What do you do when you become painfully aware that the path you are on is not getting you anywhere close to where you want to go?

I pull out maps again, looking for other trails. But there is nothing on this end of the range that climbs the peaks. For a while, I justify the low elevation route. Stick to the path, I tell myself. Plus I’m out of shape and not acclimatized and do I have enough water and where would I camp? It’s probably not that great up there anyway.

How many times do I talk myself out of things out of fear?

Finally I snap. A meadow opens up above me. I check maps, pull out my compass and plot a route and break off from the trail. Plotting my own course.

Breathing and taking small steps upward. At the saddle, peaking across to new views.

Self-doubt dissolves. I realize I’m stronger than I though.

Spearleaf stonecrop growing in the alpine meadow, which apparently Parnassius butterfly caterpillars eat which I’ve only seen pictures of but maybe I'll be here long enough to find.

Almost to the summit. Listening to the eeps of pikas. Curiosity, freedom, and self reliance take over.

Touching mountain tops.

Tucking my hammock in a high spot.

Where my heart sings.

And I feel at peace.

More information

Starting from the Squaw Springs Trailhead, the Squaw Springs Trail heads south to join the South Mountain Trail at La Sal Pass Road. Both are part of the Trans-LaSal Trail.

Trail descriptions in the La Sal Mountain Trail Guide.

Stop by the Forest Service Ranger Station in downtown Moab for current conditions.

This was a solo backpacking trip on Sept. 2-3, 2017.