Davis Canyon

A weekend backpacking trip to Davis Canyon. I’d overlooked this corner of the Needles District of Canyonlands. A nine mile long 4WD-only road made it seem inaccessible.

It shouldn’t have since it turned out to be a pleasant walk. And some nice Ancestral Puebloan sites in the canyon.

After a few hours of walking, chasing butterflies, and botanizing, I finally got to the trailhead (and park boundary). A couple in a Jeep were just getting back after their dayhike. "Did you walk all the way from the highway," they asked (surprised). I nodded. "Are you on a pilgrimage?" I didn't know what to say. But the whole rest of the day I kept thinking about how neat that was. If I were on a pilgrimage, what kind would it be?

Seeker of red rocks and sand

It is true that I've been trying to hike every trail and non-technical canyon in the Needles. Not for any reason other than the pure joy of exploration and satisfying my curiosity.

Ancestral Puebloan granary

Is there such thing as a butterfly pilgrimage? The canyon was alive with flittering and fluttering. I always delight in just watching their various flight patterns and bursts of color.

Painted lady

Beyond the spring at the mouth of the canyon, Davis Canyon was bone dry. Not something I’d expected in this above-average snowfall year when everywhere else seems to be quite wet and saturated. Apparently, there are fewer Ancestral Puebloan dwellings and sites here due historical scarcity of water.

Target-style petroglyph

Still, what sites are here are very concentrated. And I was satisfying to see the well-known pictographs with a similar motif to the Four Faces and Thirteen Faces I’d seen in adjacent canyons.

Five Faces

Rather than explore the upper reaches of Davis Canyon, I was drawn to the lush riparian area near the trailhead.

Towering cottonwoods

Delicious spring water. Maybe it tasted so good because I'd been slogging through deep sand all day in the heat.

A few side canyons north of Davis Canyon beckoned as well. I scrambled up to a granary and shimmed along a ledge to get a closer look. Always when it’s time to come down, I wonder what-am-I-doing-up-here.

Natural Bridge up another side canyon

Climbing up high above camp

Sunset

Clouds had been rolling through all day but the thunder and lightening didn’t start until dusk. I found a sheltered hidey-hole tucked between junipers and settled in for the night.

There really is nothing like the sound of rain striking DCF. I smiled and fell back to sleep even more deeply.

While I missed having company for this trip, I admit that I savor my solo mornings. Waking before dawn, packing up quickly, hiking as I watch the sunrise.  A time I feel most at peace.

Evening primrose in the morning.

Instead of taking the 4WD road back, I decided to follow a purposeful-looking cattle trail. It took me to all the exciting places I’d missed— solitary shade-trees with thick carpets of cowpies below and extensive mudflats. It kept me above the wash for a more expansive view for several miles— much further than I’d have expected- before it veered off into another canyon. A fun end to the trip!

The very faint Cow-Pie High Route Alternate.

First timers to ISKY

Four of us start down off the edge of the plateau. This is M.’s first backpacking trip in Utah and C.’s first full day in Utah. Both are interns at the park.

Into the canyon

We are on the same loop I took during my first season as an SCA here. A place to make you fall in love with canyon country. At least it did for me. The expansive views still take my breath away. Seeing it through their eyes adds an extra dose of wonder.

Still there are surprises for all of us. The first few blossoms of spring.

Paintbrush

Mags and C. join us for the first part of the day. Enough time to plunge deeply into the canyon and see the water striders gliding across pools of water.

We joke about the relative pack sizes in our group-- the difference between backpackers and dayhikers.

And we wonder what other people must think as they walk by and see M. carrying so much and Mags with his tiny pack.

C. and Mags decide to turn around to allow extra time for the climb back out. I wish they could stay but they have to work tomorrow. At least we could hang out for most of the day!

Where we parts ways.

M. and I continue on. Down to the Green River where minnows dance in the shallow backwaters.

Water near the Green River.

Not as bad after the sediment settles overnight.

We make it much further up our return canyon than I’d expected. And finally pick a spot in a side canyon.

View from our campsite.

While moving rocks to hold down my ground cloth, a scorpion surprises me.

It seemed much larger.

I relocate the scorpion up the canyon. But are there other scorpions lurking under other rocks? I figure there is only one way to find out! And proceed to turn over all the rocks in the area. But how far do scorpions roam? I widen my circle as the sun goes down. As M. set us her tent. A tent with a full zipper and netting. Scorpion-proof. Oh why did I opt for a tarp with no bug netting?!

As I turn over more rocks, suddenly, I feel something tickle my arm. Later, M. says that she’s never seen anyone rip of clothes so fast. I toss my hoodie and shirt to the ground and examine every inch of my arm. Nothing. Nothing on my clothes either. Then I notice the metal snaps on my shirt. Ah the power of the imagination to turn a snap into a scorpion.

Just like a scorpion welcome-mat.

M. points up and says, “Look at the bats!” And we joke about how they are certainly the types of bats that eat scorpions (i.e. pallid bats). Even though I don’t really know how to distinguish bat species. And somehow the idea of protective bats flying about lets me sleep deeply without fear of scorpions in the night.

Rain arrives the next morning.

The ever-changing weather of springtime.

But then the sky clears again.

Nearly there.

Back at the top, M. remarks how much her perspective of the canyon has changed after experiencing the full depth of the canyon on foot and seeing what it looks like from down below. I am reminded how many people don't have all the time to see more than the overlooks. And I am once again grateful for my extended time here and for the joys of sharing this place with friends.

Back to the high point.