Home from Back of Beyond: Images of a Harsh Country, Part Two

The photo above encompasses so much of what captivates me about the southwestern United States. A trail formed from a natural weakness in the rock providing access to an otherwise inaccessible cliff to who knows where? To be fair, hundreds of thousands of people know where the trail leads, but I like the mystery of the image. The thing is, many people DO follow this trail every year, but they may not appreciate the fact that the last time this surface was exposed to the atmosphere, it was 200 million years ago, and on the slip face of a coastal dune. Some of the irregularities highlighted by the shadows in the picture could literally be the preserved footsteps of dinosaurs, other reptiles, or amphibians.

I am slowly working on a short series of posts with my favorite images from our recently completed exploration of the Colorado Plateau and surrounding provinces. I took 1,400 photographs, so it's a bit difficult to choose between them! As we pick up the narrative, we are eight days into a fifteen day trip. As seen in an earlier post, we'd already been to the Mojave National Preserve, Zion National Park, Grand Canyon National Park, Bear's Ears National Monument, and Mesa Verde National Park. As we left Mesa Verde, we needed to find a way over the San Juan Mountains, a major range within the Rocky Mountain chain.

Because of a major wildfire in the drainage of the Animas River above Durango, we had to find another route over the mountains, so we headed instead to Lizard Head Pass (10,222 feet/3,116 meters), which divides the drainage of the Dolores and San Miguel Rivers. There was a beautiful profile of the high peaks from the summit. The brightly colored rocks above the tree line are volcanic, part of the rhyolite caldera eruptions that were taking place around 35-30 million years ago. Mineralization related to the volcanic activity resulted the emplacement of gold and silver deposits. The old mining towns like Ouray and Telluride are picturesque, but the pollution relating to the mining is a sad heritage.

Near the town of Ouray, one of the old mining camps, there is a difficult-to-see waterfall called Box Canyon Falls. The 200 foot high falls are practically hidden in a deep slot canyon, but the slopes above reveal a spectacular angular unconformity. The underlying vertical layers are more than a billion years old, but erosion planed off the rocks and in Devonian time almost 400 million years ago new sediments were draped over the older rocks. The uplift of the San Juan Mountains caused further erosion, exposing the unconformity that represents almost a billion years of missing history.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison is possibly the most bizarre canyon on the continent. It is a nearly vertical gorge that cuts through what is essentially the top of a mountain instead of having been carved through softer rocks that are exposed nearby. The Gunnison River was forced into the present channel by a series of lava flows that diverted the river from a "normal" course. Around 2-3 million years ago the landscape was uplifted, and the trapped river cut down through all the rock in its path, including the extremely hard gneiss and granite that make up the canyon walls in the park. It's not the deepest canyon in the country, but no other canyon combines the depth and steepness of Black Canyon. It is more than 2,000 feet deep in places, and in one place it is only 1,100 feet wide.

The Painted Wall (above) in Black Canyon is the highest sheer cliff in Colorado at 2,250 feet. The rocks exposed in the face of the cliff include 1.7 billion year old gneiss and schist with numerous intrusions and dikes of lighter colored granitic rock, including extremely coarse-grained pegmatite.

Late in the day we headed down one of the most spectacular roads in North America, Highway 128, which follows the Colorado River from near Interstate 70 to the outskirts of Moab, Utah. While mostly confined to a deep and narrow gorge of sandstone cliffs along the river, there is a moment when the canyon opens up and there is an awe-inspiring view of the Fisher Towers and the La Sal Mountains.

The La Sal Mountains are an anomaly in the generally horizonal landscapes of the Colorado Plateau. Between 28 and 25 million years ago, plumes of magma worked their way almost to the surface, intruding laterally between the sedimentary layers, and causing them to swell upwards like a series of blisters in the crust. The intrusions are called laccoliths. Exposed now by erosion, the igneous rocks reach elevations of almost 13,000 feet.

We arrived at our campsite in Arches National Park as the sun approached the western horizon. I don't think there is a more spectacular place in the country to roll out a sleeping bag. The view from the group camp extends for miles in every direction. There is also a beautiful arch, Skyline, visible from camp (below). The arch more than doubled in size in 1940 when a huge chunk of rock fell from the opening.

The landscapes in and around Arches and Canyonlands National Parks are almost beyond description. We spent two days in the area, and one of our stops was a rock art panel that is so delicate and fragile that I can't believe that it still exists 30 years after I first discovered it. Why? It's easily seen from the paved road leading into Canyonlands. But without signs and arrows pointing the way, people miss it. The first of the images are pictographs (below), those examples of rock art that were painted onto the sandstone. The ghostly figures and small hummingbirds are almost nightmarish in their imagery.

The other images are petroglyphs, the ones carved directly from the rocks. They depict some stylized bighorn sheep and other creatures. The panel has been somewhat damaged, possibly by natural erosion, but vandals have also done their evil work here.

Canyonlands National Park has many incredible vistas, but my favorite is the one that is framed by Mesa Arch (below). The arch is relatively small, but it frames the La Sal Mountains and pillars and cliffs of the Colorado River section of the park (the Green River forms meets the Colorado inside the park). Mesa is a popular short trail, and crowds are especially thick in the early morning when the sunrise can be photographed through the opening. You've no doubt seen an example on just about any nature-based calendar!

Pictures of Canyonlands are often mistaken for the Grand Canyon, but this section of the river includes only late Paleozoic rocks and thousands of feet of Mesozoic layers that are not seen at Grand Canyon. It is not as deep, but it is deeply colorful. It's hotter country in the summer, and there aren't many sources of water. Travel away from paved roads is more challenging than your "average" national park.

After we explored the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands and Dead Horse Point State Park, we headed back to Arches for one of the greatest excursions on our entire trip, the hike to Delicate Arch for the sunset. The trail (a picture of which started this post) climbs 1.5 miles to an iconic overlook of the famous arch. I would love to say that the hike is an awesome desert wilderness trek where one can discover one's self in the isolation and serenity, but as author Edward Abbey feared in his 1968 book Desert Solitaire, the trail (and much of the rest of the park) has been taken over by industrial tourism. There is a large paved parking lot, and hundreds of people make the trek every evening.

Frame Arch view of Delicate Arch

The crowd at the top was rowdy, in large part because there are always selfish individuals and groups who insist on standing within the arch for selfies and group photos, spoiling the view for everyone else. I didn't have the heart to listen to the ruckus (I most certainly would have contributed, shouting at the jerks in the arch), so I headed instead to my favorite little arch in the park, Frame Arch. Frame is a small arch just above the trail only a few dozen yards from the Delicate Arch viewpoint. Most people pass it by in their race to get to more famous arch around the corner. What most of them don't realize is that Frame Arch has a great view of Delicate Arch, but also of the La Sal Mountains and Salt Wash. And I had the arch to myself for quite awhile even as hundreds of people were gathered just around the corner.

The La Sal Mountains and Salt Wash through Frame Arch

I had to think of my students though. There were a dozen of them who had hiked ahead of me, and they had to be worrying that their old overweight professor was passed out somewhere down the trail dying while they were enjoying the view. So I climbed down from the arch and back onto the trail and walked the last few yards to the overlook. I patiently waited while the jerks stood for their pictures in Delicate Arch and finally got a picture sans people as the sun settled into the horizon.

Our trip wasn't over. We had five more days and two more states to traverse. More favorite pictures soon!

Where are the Ten Most Incredible Places You've Ever Stood? My Number 9: Frame Arch and the Delicate Arch Trail

It's the journey through the Ten Most Incredible Places I've Ever Stood! As I explained in the last post, the list is subjective, and everyone's list will be different. I'm pleased at the response of many of you already listing your most incredible spots in the comments, and on my accounts at Facebook and Google+. I'm looking forward to seeing more! My own list is not in any particular order, other than my choice for number one. Folks will perhaps not be surprised to see that I selected the picture above for my number 9; it's the cover photo from my Geotripper Images website where I've posted a lot of my geological pictures for use in educational/academic projects. It is a view of the La Sal Mountains through Frame Arch at the end of the Delicate Arch trail in Arches National Park.

In the years before PowerPoint, I started all of my geology classes with a set of slides (this was an ancient technology that involved "carousel trays", "slide projectors", and "film") to introduce the students to the world as it is revealed by geological processes. The first picture was always this stretch of trail just short of  Delicate Arch. I chose it because it symbolized so much about the wonders revealed in the incredible history of our planet.

The trail is cut into a formation called the Entrada Sandstone, a layer composed mostly of  windblown sandstone as well is silt and mud in some areas. It once was a system of sand dunes near a coastal delta and estuary during the Jurassic Period around 140-180 million years ago. The trail surface is a natural separation along the surface on one of the dunes, so by walking on this trail we are striding on the same surface that dinosaurs, ancient mammals, and arthropods walked on many millions of years ago. We know that these rocks were buried deeply by thousands of feet of overlying rock, but they were pushed upwards by vast salt domes rising from older formations below. The doming effect split the rocks into linear fins, and the arches developed from weathering and erosion at the base of fins.

At one viewpoint an observer can appreciate the variety of depositional environments that led to the formation of the colorful Entrada rocks, the vast amount of time that the rocks lay buried in the crust, the immensity of earth movements that brought the rocks back to the surface, and the intensity of erosional processes that shaped the rocks into what they are today. And one can walk on a surface that may very well have been a trackway for a dinosaur many eons ago.

But (like they say in late-night television ads), there's more! Although many people use Frame Arch to frame Delicate Arch, I chose to emphasize the La Sal Mountains instead (the top photo). The La Sals represent the role of magmas in earth processes. The mountains are composed of intrusive rock that reached close to the Earth's surface about 25 to 28 million years ago. Some may even have erupted out in volcanic eruptions, but the rest of the rock formed into mushroom shaped plutons called laccoliths. The dioritic rock proved more resistant to erosion than the surrounding shale and sandstone, so the peaks rise 6,000 to 7,000 feet above the plateau surface. The highest peaks in the La Sals reach nearly 13,000 feet above sea level.

It's a scenic, even iconic spot for photographers and park visitors, but what makes this one spot special to me? It's the unique experience of each visit. It's been my privilege to visit this spot perhaps a dozen times in the last 30 years and every time it has been an awe-inspiring journey. We usually head up the 1.5 mile trail in the late afternoon in order to catch the sunset on Delicate Arch. Quite often there is a raucous crowd, and some moron always feels a need to go stand under the arch for an inordinate period of time, prompting shouted complaints from the large group of photographers on the ridge top. Frame Arch becomes the special spot at that point because there is only myself and a few of my fellow travelers. We don't hear the chaos and mayhem at Delicate Arch, and we can just sit and appreciate the changing colors and deepening shadows.

Once or twice we've been doused with a summer rainstorm, and in one particular year we took shelter under the arch and gloried in the lightning and crashing thunder, and watched as the dry sandstone transformed into a series of waterfalls and white cascades. It was one of the most cherished moments of my life. We assumed that the storm would obscure the sunset, but as quickly as the storm hit, it dispersed and the sunshine broke through to highlight the La Sal Mountains in the far distance.

One more reason that this spot is on my incredible list is because of the ephemeral nature of Delicate Arch itself. It may not last my lifetime. The arch is only a foot and a half thick at one point, and there are valid fears that it could collapse in the natural order of events. Of course, humans may help it along; I've heard of at least one episode in which a man attacked the arch with an axe. Then again, it could last another thousand years. Who knows? In the meantime it is a magic place.

Once before I pass on I would like to see it in the snow.

My Favorite Geologic Picture: Oh, so many to choose from...(Accretionary Wedge #32)

The Accretionary Wedge for early March is sponsored by Ann's Musings on Geology and Other Things, and we are asked for our favorite geological picture. What a hard choice!

Long before I had a digital camera, I used a particular slide from a trip in the 1980s to introduce my students to the idea of the fascination of geology. It was taken next to one of the most famous photography spots in our national park system, but it is not a picture of the iconic feature. It's the trail leading to it. Delicate Arch of the "Real" Jurassic Park lies just around the corner, and a crowd is often found there, especially at sunset. But I see fewer people stop and consider this scene....

I got into geology in part because of the wonderful journey of imagination that it is; a geologist is a world traveler, and a time traveler. The trail in this picture is formed on a natural break in the rock. Why is the break there?

In Jurassic time 180 and 140 million years ago, tidal flats and coastal sand dunes spread across this part of Utah. The surfaces of the dunes were pathways for all kinds of creatures, from insects to giant lumbering dinosaurs. The walked and crawled on these sands, and later the surfaces were preserved by subsequent layers of windblown sand. The surface later hardened a bit more than the others, and millions of years later, erosion exposed the old sands. A fracture developed along the surface, and the trail-builders of a few decades ago found it a great deal easier to just remove the overlying rock than to carve a new flat surface at great expense. And so it is that during our brief sojourn on the planet, we walk on the same surface, and perceive the significance of that fact. We use our minds to explore strange alien worlds, and yet these are the worlds that existed before ours and which became the raw materials for our own.
Again, practically everyone walks up to Delicate Arch, but there is another arch just a few steps off the trail that provides a stunning view the distant La Sal Mountains, the laccolithic cores of 25 million year old volcanoes. This picture, taken just a few yards from the one above, contains the four elements of ancient human thought: water, earth, fire and sky (the water is in the sky and in the creek below). The essence of earth science...

Thanks to Ann for sponsoring the Wedge!

UPDATE 8/19/11: Do you need geology-themed photos and images for teaching or research purposes? I have hundreds of geologic images posted at Geotripper Images. Check it out!

The Real Jurassic Parks: Arches National Park, continued. And an Eminent Threat.

I didn't really mean to leave everyone hanging in the Jurassic during our months-long tour of the geology of the Colorado Plateau, but I am easily distracted by things like work and politics. I want to at least make it out of the Mesozoic era before Thanksgiving, so I am picking up the thread where we left off on Oct. 17 with a visit to Arches National Park.

The stratigraphy of the park is relatively straightforward: the visible scenery mainly includes the Navajo Sandstone, the Dewey Bridge member of the Entrada Sandstone, and the Slickrock member of the Entrada. The Navajo Sandstone has a huge role in the scenery of other parks on the Plateau (see discussions here), but is mostly muted here. It is familiar to park tourists as the "petrified sand dunes" that can seen along the road in the south part of the park, and the very dramatic white rock along the park entrance road. The Dewey Bridge member is a "crinkly" layer of sand, silt and gypsum at the base of many of the arches. The reason for the deformed layers is unclear. One intriguing proposal is that a nearby asteroid impact distorted the layers (Upheaval Dome in Canyonlands National Park is the proposed impact site). Most of the arches occur in the Slickrock member, a cliff-forming layer that is obvious throughout the park.

The origin of the park's famous arches (there are hundreds) is tied to the salts of the Paradox Basin discussed earlier in this post. The salt beds are thousands of feet thick, and when placed under pressure, can slowly flow upwards through the overlying rock, forming domes and anticlines (upward pointing folds). Over millions of years, erosion removed thousands of feet of overlying sediment, and the salt was close enough to the surface to be affected by groundwater: it was dissolved away. The tops of the folds collapsed inwards, and the Entrada Sandstone was fractured (jointing) into a series of parallel fins. A large northwest trending anticline crosses the park; most of the arches occur along the flanks of the anticline.

The top of the fins are exposed to the arid desert climate, where the rock dries quickly following the infrequent storms. At the base of the fins, where the rock is buried by soil and loose sand, the rock may stay moist much longer. This leads to the solution of the cement holding the sandstone together, and the fins start to weather from below. Eventually a small window may open up, and falling slabs of rock enlarge the opening. The largest arch, Landscape, has an opening the length of a football field. Unfortunately, it is so thin and fractured that it may not last our lifetimes (it is in the third picture of the day). A large chunk fell about fifteen years ago. Wall Arch, another arch in the same area, just collapsed last summer.

Today's first photograph shows a small arch in the vicinity of Delicate Arch (a corner of Delicate is visible on the left side). The foreground includes tilted layers of the Entrada where they collapsed into the salt anticline. The La Sal Mountains can be seen in the distance.

The second photo shows my nomination for one of the most dramatic trails in existence, the one that leads to Delicate Arch. This is definitely a case where the end of the trail is not the main attraction; the whole trail is a treat, from one end to the other.

Unfortunately, politics and politicians don't stop politicking, elections or not. Arches, like the Grand Canyon is being threatened by the possibility of gas drilling just outside the park boundaries. The outgoing administration seems to be trying to run a fire sale on leases before they leave office in January. It is especially irritating that the Bureau of Land Management seems to be trying to fly under the public radar in their announcements. More information on the issue (and maps of the proposed leases) can be found here.

When the Slickrock is Really Slick!

Two days to go before we embark on our journey to the Colorado Plateau!

Today's montage is from one of my favorite moments in 2005...a huge cloudburst on the trail to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. The first is a view from near the end of the trail during the height of the storm, including nearby lightning strikes. The second is just after the storm passed. Within twenty minutes or so, the sandstone was already drying out and the setting sun caused Delicate Arch to glow. It is hard to describe the adrenaline, the odors of wet desert vegetation, and the utter wildness of the moment, since the rain had driven away all but a few stubborn stragglers like myself.

Arches National Park has one of the largest concentrations of natural arches in the world, somewhere around 300, depending on the specific definition of 'arch'. They formed in the Jurassic Entrada Sandstone, which was deformed and jointed by rising salt domes. It is one of the most beautiful parks on the plateau. A classic book on the region is "Desert Solitaire" by the late Edward Abbey. Published in the late 1960's, it has stood the test of time, and I highly recommend it if you ever travel out this way.