The Land of Standing Rocks: The Chocolate Drops and Maze

This is day two of my three-day adventure into the Maze area of Canyonlands National Park.

The Chocolate Drops.

I woke up on day two of my Maze trip at a slickrock campsite below Teapot Rock. The sunrise was incredible from camp but I was still a little disappointed that the park rangers had thwarted my plan to hike down the Golden Stairs Trail with my bike. The morning views coming down that trail would have been over the top.

Teapot Camp.

Instead of a super scenic and short hike down the Golden Stairs into the Maze, I now had a longer and sure-to-be-uncomfortable bike ride along the infamously rough Doll House Road. Riding technical slickrock with a heavy, full-size backpack is not fun. Since water is incredibly scarce in the Maze, I carried seven liters; add a sleeping bag, pad, food, stove, etc. and we're talking about a real beast of a pack. To add insult to injury, I neglected to bring my biking shorts (with chamois padding) or even a helmet.

Orange Cliffs from Teapot Rock camp.

Cruising along the slickrock surface of Doll House Road near Canyonlands National Park.

At my lumbering pace, it was nearly 11 AM by the time I passed the bottom of the Golden Stairs and the trail head for Ernies Country and The Fins.  As I feared, the long bike detour meant I wouldn't have time to check out Lou's Spring, cedar bark ruin, or the interior of The Fins.

I pushed onward past the Mother & Child formation and into the enchanting Land of Standing Rocks. The "standing" rocks here are all that remain of the red Organ Rock shale which once everywhere blanketed the white Cedar Mesa Sandstone. I passed The Wall, Lizard Rock, and The Plug, before finally arriving at my designated campsite at Standing Rock.

The Wall. Rock formations in The Land of Standing Rocks can be deceiving. Compare this north-directed view of The Wall with the west-directed view below.

Looking west toward the amazingly thin and linear Wall, composed of  Organ Rock shale.

Standing Rock.

View from camp to confounding canyons of The Maze.

Standing Rock camp.

Running the first few miles of the Chocolate Drops Trail.

After dumping off my heavy backpack at camp, I got my day pack ready and made the short bike ride back to The Plug trail head. I stashed my bike, changed shoes, and ran west on the Doll House 4x4 road to the Chocolate Drops trail head near The Wall. This was the start of a 15-mile circuit that would lead me past several highlights of The Maze including The Chocolate Drops, Pictograph Fork Canyon, South Fork of Horse Canyon, Maze Overlook, and the Harvest Scene pictographs.

A closer look at Organ Rock hoodoos and balanced rocks along the Chocolate Drops Trail.

Resistant caps of White Rim Sandstone hold up the Chocolate Drops. Although not marked on any maps, there is an unofficial and sporadically cairned trail that descends northeast from the Chocolate Drops down into Pictograph Fork Canyon.

View of the Chocolate Drops from near the top of the Maze Overlook trail.

The Chocolate Drops from Maze Overlook. While snapping photos from the overlook, I was surprised to see what appeared to be a medical helicopter flying low over The Maze. I wondered if someone had gotten lost or rimmed out somewhere nearby. I later learned that they had a much more grim task that day--more on this in the next post.

Pictograph Fork--one of many tributaries of South Fork Canyon. Staying on course in this stone labyrinth is a real challenge since all of the canyons look similar and it can be impossible to tell which branch is a main fork and which is a minor tributary. For the most part, the "trails" in these canyons are simply dry wash bottoms.

The Harvest Scene of Pictograph Fork in the heart of The Maze. I arrived at this unique panel in the late evening when the panel was in shadow. This allowed me to get some pretty good detail considering how faded the pigment is. These are also part of the Archaic (pre-Anasazi) Barrier Creek style similar to the art at the much more easily accessible Horse Shoe Canyon.

The Harvest Scene is named for the character in the far right of the photo that appears to be presenting a sheath of rice grass.

Upper Pictograph Fork just before sundown.

After spending about an hour photographing the Harvest Scene, I headed up canyon toward my bike stashed at the Plug trail head. With the shorter days (this was way back in April), I fully expected to finish the hike in the dark and, as always, I carry a small headlamp that is usually sufficient for getting to the end of the trail. But after walking upcanyon a mile or so, I started thinking about what the canyon exit was going to be like. I recalled looking on Google Earth during planning and seeing a fairly precarious trail that climbs a series of bare Cedar Mesa ledges to the rim. I realized there would be a critical turn up ahead where the route leaves the sandy wash bottom and begins the ledgy ascent. With only an hour of daylight left, I had a mini panic attack and started running. That key turn (likely to be marked only with a small cairn) would be difficult to find in the dark with a small headlamp. If I missed that turn, there's no other safe way out of the box canyon.

I made it to the critical turn, marked only with a small cairn as I guessed, with just enough diffuse light (the sun had long sunk over the canyon rim) to look up the canyon side and spot the first few cairns designating the route out. Within a few minutes it was completely dark and I had to rely on the paltry 15 feet or so of light throw of my headlamp. Things quickly got a little dicey as the route led me higher in the cliffs in the dark. My light was too weak to simply navigate from cairn to cairn. I'd typically have to scout around on narrow ledges with a few hundred feet of exposure for the next cairn. There was one spot that stumped me for a good half hour. I had a cairn sitting on a 3 foot-wide ledge. There were only a couple of possible directions I could go up from here and they all seemed to lead to a dead end. After each dead end, I'd retrace my steps back to the cairn. For a minute, I thought I'd have to spend the night on the ledge and wait for daylight to show me the way out. Eventually I shown my light straight down and realized the route was a near vertical friction pitch straight down to another ledge about 10 feet below. Sure enough once I slid down, I found a another cairn and with much trial and error, I followed many more back to my bike.

I slept good that night back at Lone Rock camp after inhaling a spaghetti and meat sauce Mountain House meal.

I had knocked a lot of sights off the old bucket list that day and I couldn't wait to tick off the Dollhouse the following morning.

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Greater Canyonlands: Blue John & Horseshoe Canyons

This is day one of my three-day adventure into the Horseshoe Canyon-Maze area of Canyonlands.

The trip didn't start out too great. It would get better...

It was April 15, and I had driven several hours over bone-rattling washboard of the San Rafael Desert, fast approaching the boundary of the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. Since I had to be at the Hans Flat ranger station first thing in the morning, I needed to find a place to throw down my bedroll as close as possible to the RA boundary, but not beyond where a camping permit from the NPS is mandatory.  My GPS indicated I was within a few 100 yards of the boundary when I finally spotted a dirt road splitting off to the south that looked like it led to a primitive camping area. I turned and passed one small outfit camped in a clump of juniper trees, but the road continued a bit farther to a pleasing, small flat.

Not wanting to waste another minute of sleep time, I immediately unfurled my sleeping bag and was about to crawl in when I noticed a headlamp bobbing toward me. I was expecting perhaps an invite to share a beer and tall tells around the campfire, but what I got was a stern, yet fairly polite request to pack up and camp somewhere else. Apparently, I was too close for comfort and had ruined someone's wilderness experience. Seemed to me I was a reasonable distance away. Since he kept addressing me with "you guys," I though if I explained it was just me, and there would be zero noise, no fire, and I'd be gone before the sun came up, he'd be satisfied. He was unconvinced. I was deliriously tired, and I don't recall everything said, but I do recall the guy saying something about it being a free country and I can camp where I want to, but I really should yadda, yadda, yadda...  I chose freedom and stayed put. I had more than one dream that night of being picked to death with a tent stake.

The rangers at Hans Flat walk over from their sleeping quarters to the ranger station at about 20 minutes to 8 AM. The first ranger, an older gentleman, tapped on my window and said I could come in once the American flag was raised. He also wanted to know my plans so he could start checking permit availability. I explained that I needed a permit for that night as close to the top of the Golden Stairs as possible. At the crack of dawn, I would then pack my disassembled mountain bike down the short (< 2 miles) but steep Golden Stairs trail to the Dollhouse 4X4 road. Then I'd reassemble my bike, ride a short distance to the unmarked and seldom-visited Ernie's Country trail head and run to the "cedar bark" ruin (Anasazi granary), Lou's Spring, and into the most photogenic parts of The Fins in Sand Tank Canyon. From there, I'd backtrack to my bike and continue cycling down the 4X4 road to either the Standing Rock or Chimney Rock campsite. From there, I would then venture into the heart of the Maze by hiking to the Chocolate Drops, Maze Overlook, and the Harvest Scene pictographs. The second day in the Maze would be a quick trip to check out the Doll House area.

Although the ranger worried I was trying to cover too much ground, he seemed content with my plan, and shuffled into the station. A couple of other rangers soon arrived. A much younger ranger, clean-shaven with a freshly ironed uniform, polished boots, and a new shiny badge approached. This guy worried me. He also inquired of my plans. I got as far as explaining my plan to pack my bike down the Golden Stairs, when the young ranger, who clearly has his sights set on being Park Superintendent, stopped me. "You can't take a bike down that trail," he said.

Thinking that perhaps he misunderstood me, I reiterated that the bike would have its wheels removed and everything would be attached to my backpack and stressed that bike wheels would never even touch the trail. It didn't matter. "No mechanized form of travel," he said.

"A disassembled bicycle is a form of travel?" I asked.

He wouldn't discuss it further. Whatever. After more than 3 years of dreaming and over a year of planning every detail, I didn't like the thought of last second changes.

Sensing my frustration, the ranger assured me that we could come up with an alternative plan to get me into the Maze. I had already analyzed every other alternative. There was not a quicker or more efficient way for me and my bike to get into the Maze. I knew whatever the ranger had in mind, it would take longer and something would have to be cut from my itinerary.

Once I got into the ranger station and we started looking at available campsites, we hatched the plan to have me drive down the Flint Trail to Water Hole Flat and then on to the Teapot Rock campsite. That's as far as stock SUVs without lifts and ruggedized tires can go. What this boiled down to was, instead of a quick and easy hike down the Golden Stairs, I now had an elongated mountain bike ride through the most difficult part of the Dollhouse 4X4 road across the rim of Tea Pot Canyon--no walk in the park with a 40 pound backpack on. Not to mention I didn't have chamois(!) nor had I overinflated my bike tires and shocks to help negotiate the ledgy trail with the extra weight. Not a perfect plan but it would have to do.

With my revised Maze plans squared away and permits in hand, I was ready to attack the day at hand. First up: Blue John Canyon.

Made famous by Aaron Ralston and his unfortunate 2003 mishap that left him one hand short, Blue John Canyon reached infamous status after Danny Boyle's 127 Hours movie.

To maximize time, and to lessen backtracking, I stashed my bike at the "direct route" trail head near the top of Main Fork, drove to the West Fork trail head, and descended West Fork to the lower slot in Main Fork where Ralston got stuck.  I'll let the photos tell the story from here:

Nice slot near the top of West Fork of Blue John Canyon. Nothing technical here.

Below an initial slot section, West Fork gradually opens and deepens. From here to the confluence with Main Fork and on to the lower slot it's pretty much a sand slog. It's much more efficient to run the sandy sections. It took just over an hour to get to the lower slot.  

The "s-log" marks the unmistakable entrance to the lower slot of Blue John Canyon. This should be an easy downclimb for most.

A simple stem maneuver just upstream of the "s-log" gets you down into the lower slot.

Ducking under boulders in "The Gauntlet" of lower Blue John Canyon.

The smaller boulder below the big boulder I'm standing on here is the "Ralston rock". This is essentially what Aron  saw just before he and the boulder he had been standing on tumbled down, resulting in his hand being pinned against the canyon wall. 

Looking back upcanyon at the "Ralston rock" (in the photo center). There is some disagreement about whether Ralston's boulder actually remains. One guy I met in the canyon insisted it is now buried beneath the canyon floor. It sure looks like the same rock to me (compare with photos below).

A self-shot by Aron after being stuck for nearly 5 days.  I'm confident this is the same boulder as shown in the photo above. The boulder was rotated  counterclockwise and dropped farther down into the slot after Aron's hand was removed by park rangers (below).

NPS photo of the "Ral-Stone" immediately after park rangers used a winch and hydraulic jack to help remove Aron's forearm and hand.  The remains were cremated and returned to Aron, who later returned to Blue John Canyon to spread the ashes where he said they belong. 

Aron revisits the spot where in 2003 he nearly died after being trapped with limited food and water for 5 days. Photo from http://booksmakeadifference.com/aronralston/

Below the Ralston rock, the slot becomes increasingly convoluted and dark.

The deepest, darkest part of the lower slot of Blue John Canyon. Even though I passed through at midday, it was almost dark enough to require a headlamp. I've read several reports of rattlesnakes in this area, although I saw none on my trip.

It only takes a few minutes to pass through the lower slot, but plan on taking longer if you want pictures. A tripod is practically mandatory in the low light.

The lower slot ends at a 60-foot pour-off above lower Blue John.  Rappelling gear is necessary to descend the dryfall, then it's a couple of miles to Horseshoe Canyon (where Aron was ultimately rescued). This is where I turned around and retreated back up the Main Fork, essentially reversing Aron's route.

At the bottom of the drop is this stagnant pool Aron rappelled into (with one hand, and on the brink of death) and drank from toward the end of his ordeal. The water Aron drank likely looked similar to this, except he mentioned there was a dead raven floating in it.

I bypassed the West Fork and kept running up the sandy Main Fork of Blue John Canyon. 

Farther up the Main Fork, the walls close in and form an impressively deep slot.

Main Fork Blue John Canyon.

The deepest part of Main Fork is an easy walk-through canyon.

Upcanyon from this point, the Main Fork becomes a challenge. I passed two groups descending this semi-technical section with ropes, helmets, and the whole get-up. The slot is narrow enough to where if you're experienced with various techniques using your body as a wedge,  it's possible to climb without ropes. (no pics in the semi-tech section since I had my camera stashed safely in my pack).

Looking down into the semi-technical section of the upper Main Fork of Blue John Canyon. Although this section is only a couple of hundred feet long, it may take close to an hour to squeeze through.

Upper Main Fork before it slots up.

On the "direct route" from the top of the Main Fork upper slot.  Navajo Sandstone here exhibits differing oxidation states (red vs. white) of included iron minerals. 

Returning to the Montero in the afternoon, I had just enough daylight left to hit Horseshoe Canyon--the detached, remote section of Canyonlands National Park known for its distinctive pictographs.

With the sun getting low and storm clouds approaching from the east, I knew I'd have to knock off the 8-mile Horseshoe Canyon trail in a hurry.

Gray clouds threaten over Horseshoe Canyon.

The High Gallery is the first panel encountered once you're down on the canyon floor. It's also the only panel on the east side of the canyon. 

A short distance from High Gallery is Horseshoe Gallery. The rock art in Horseshoe Canyon is the type locality for Barrier-style rock art (named after Barrier Creek in the bottom of Horseshoe Canyon which almost always has at least a small flow) found scattered in other places in the southwest.  The panels in Horseshoe Canyon are thought to predate the Anasazi and are more than 2000 years old.

Horseshoe Gallery.

Alcove Gallery. Sadly, this panel has been badly defaced over the years.

At Alcove Panel, looking out of the alcove into Horseshoe Canyon.

The Great Gallery. The second most interesting pictograph panel on the Colorado Plateau in my book (that I've personally visited) behind Shaman's Gallery in Grand Canyon.

Great Gallery.

Great Galley.

Life-sized ghosts of the Great Galley.

After running through Horseshoe Canyon in about 2.5 hours, I had a fairly long and bumpy ride ahead to get to my designated campsite for the night at Teapot Rock.

The road south of Hans Flat skirts the 1000-foot-high Orange Cliffs and offers periodic views toward the "Under the Ledge" country below. I timed my passage through here nicely, with the last rays of daylight setting the desert on fire.

Millard Canyon Overlook from atop the Orange Cliffs.

Cleopatra's Chair rests high above Millard Canyon.

Another view from Millard Canyon Overlook.

The Orange Cliffs and Elaterite Basin at dusk.

Bagpipe Butte.

Flint Trail Overlook.  The Flint Trail is generally too narrow for two-way traffic. It's mandatory to scout out the trail to make sure no one is heading up at the same time.

I rolled into Teapot camp at about 10:30 PM.

Dang tired, but a little giddy about everything I'd finally be seeing in the morning, I fell fast asleep on the slickrock.

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