Every Victory is Fragile, Every Loss is Catastrophic: Bear's Ears National Monument and the Valley of the Gods

Bear's Ears National Monument is a magical place. It is a place of mystery and vast vistas, a place of sacredness to many people. It is one of our country's most precious treasures. When President Obama accepted years of negotiation and work by "stakeholders" in the region and established the monument in 2016, I rejoiced. But I knew that the victory would be fleeting because of the election of rapacious vile people who only understand dollar signs. Bear's Ears National Monument is under an existential threat by Secretary of the Interior Zinke, Trump, and certain local officials. Trump recently exceeded his authority and tried to shrink the monument by 85%, and the matter is now in court. New documents suggest that Zinke used recommendations by Canadian uranium mining companies to redraw the boundaries, which just happened to remove monument protection from potential uranium ore-bearing formations. It is a "land grab" of breath-taking proportions, and not in a good way.

Monument Valley from the edge of Cedar Mesa at Muley Point

We need to know what we are losing, and so I've been doing a couple of posts on the monuments that are threatened by the robber barons who are threatening our most beautiful and sacred places. This is an abridged version of a post from February of 2014:

Pareidolia is a very human tendency to perceive faces and significant forms in unlikely places, like on oddly shaped potatoes and burnt tortillas. It is what allows us to see the "Man in the Moon". It's hardwired into our brains, and I wouldn't be surprised if it arose out of a need to recognize the eyes and faces of creatures that in a past era would have eaten us.

We journeyed to the region in 2013, and we were headed into one of the more isolated corners of the Colorado Plateau. After traveling through Monument Valley, we turned north into Mexican Hat, Utah, and headed up a gravel road into Valley of the Gods. This was new for me; in a quarter of a century, I somehow had never found the time to explore the 17 mile loop through a series of amphitheaters along the eastern margin of Cedar Mesa. It was a magical place, and in 2016 it was included within the boundaries of Bear's Ears National Monument. In 2017 it was removed from protection.

The Sitting Hen at Valley of the Gods, from the back

I find myself speculating about the connections between magic and science when I am in a place like Valley of the Gods. Science has given us a "creation myth" about how these rock pedestals formed.  The cliff-forming unit is the Cedar Mesa Sandstone, which formed in coastal dunes and beaches in Permian time perhaps 270 million years ago. The underlying ledge-forming rock is the Halgaito Shale, which formed in coastal deltas and shallow marine conditions somewhat earlier in the Permian Period. The spires formed from cliff retreat as the softer Halgaito rock undercut the sandstone cliffs (I described the process in an earlier post). Tricks and variations in the erosional process formed the hollows and shadows that give the pedestals their eyes and faces.

The Sitting Hen, or as I like to call it, the Rubber Ducky at Valley of the Gods.

So, who is to say that science has a better explanation for the origin of these features than others who see the shapes and ascribe their origin to gods or aliens or whatever? In ages past there was no technology to truly study the origin of these rocks, and no cultural experience with deltas, or river floodplains, or beaches. The people who observed these towers thousands of years ago were just as intelligent (if not more so) than people today, but they had no experience or written history that could record the appearance of rocks forming today in the environments listed above. So they described the rocks in a way that best explained what they saw within the limits of their technology. They saw people, animals, and monsters, and produced stories and adventures that explained how they could be turned to stone.

The Battleship, right out of Monopoly!

Does science deny the possibility of aliens carving these exquisite sculptures, or that gods turned miscreant humans into stone? Actually, science doesn't. It does in fact state that these other explanations could be true but that the probability is extremely low, based on the absolute paucity of supporting evidence. The scientific explanation is supported by extensive and overwhelming evidence. Scientists would acknowledge that the presently accepted explanation could be supplanted were new evidence were to emerge. Indeed they expect such changes in the fullness of time.

Compare this attitude to that of someone who has decided on an explanation, truly believes it, and chooses to ignore any contrary evidence. There is no growth, no increase in knowledge in such an person. Belief doesn't make it real, but evidence makes an explanation more likely.

Some might say that science removes the excitement and mystery of a good creation story. I would respectfully disagree. I would say that an understanding of geologic processes leads to more mystery and wonder. Consider the rocks; once one realizes that these rocks were part of a coastal complex, the question arises: where was the ocean and why was it in this place? Today the oceans are a thousand miles away. These rocks were eroded from a mountain range somewhere. Could we find where that mountain range was? Why did those mountains rise? What forces were acting on the crust to cause them to develop? What kinds of creatures lived on these floodplains and deltas? Where did they come from? What happened to them? As it turns out, the world was only a few million years from the worst extinction event ever to take place on planet Earth. Some 95% of all species on the planet vanished 252 million years ago. All these questions invite further study and further growth. Each effort to answer these questions adds to the body of human knowledge. It is a creation story that grows and changes with the addition of new data.

On the other hand, it's fun to play games with these fascinating forms of nature. What do you think they are?

I know this: they are beautiful to gaze upon, even if beauty is a subjective judgement. Did the humans who first saw these desert monuments see them as beautiful? Or were they simply part of a rugged harsh landscape that may or may not be hiding a resource that could extend human life in this tough land?

I definitely see a huge mechanical hand rising out of the ground.

We passed the base of Lady in a Bathtub (picture below) and drove back down to Mexican Hat for one last stop in civilization. We were headed onto Cedar Mesa, another special place that was protected under the monument status of Bear's Ears, and which illegally lost protection under the new directives from the administration.

The Lady in the Bathtub.

The loop road through Valley of the Gods is accessed from US 163 out of Mexican Hat, Utah, while the west entrance is on US 261 near the base of the Moki Dugway. There are no facilities along the loop, which is managed and maintained by the Bureau of Land Management. There is a small campsite at nearby Goosenecks of the San Juan State Park, but no water is available. If you go, bring a camera or sketchpad. Even if you never go, fight for the protection of these lands by contacting your representatives in Congress, and support the organizations who are suing the administration over its illegal actions.

Out in America's Never Never: Valley of the Gods, where pareidolia runs rampant

Pareidolia is a very human tendency to perceive faces and significant forms in unlikely places, like on oddly shaped potatoes and burnt tortillas. It is what allows us to see the "Man in the Moon", and what gives rise to names like Owl Rock (in our last post). It's hardwired into our brains, and I wouldn't be surprised if it arose out of a need to recognize the eyes and faces of creatures that in a past era would have eaten us.

Our journey through America's Never Never was in its sixth day, and we were headed into one of the more isolated corners of the Colorado Plateau. After traveling through Monument Valley, we turned north into Mexican Hat, Utah, and headed up a gravel road into Valley of the Gods. This was new for me; in a quarter of a century, I somehow had never found the time to explore the 17 mile loop through a series of amphitheaters along the eastern margin of Cedar Mesa. It was a magical place.

The Sitting Hen at Valley of the Gods, from the back

I find myself speculating about the connections between magic and science when I am in a place like Valley of the Gods. Science has given us a "creation myth" about how these rock pedestals formed.  The cliff-forming unit is the Cedar Mesa Sandstone, which formed in coastal dunes and beaches in Permian time perhaps 270 million years ago. The underlying ledge-forming rock is the Halgaito Shale, which formed in coastal deltas and shallow marine conditions somewhat earlier in the Permian Period. The spires formed from cliff retreat as the softer Halgaito rock undercut the sandstone cliffs (I described the process in the previous post). Tricks and variations in the erosional process formed the hollows and shadows that give the pedestals their eyes and faces.

The Sitting Hen, or as I like to call it, the Rubber Ducky at Valley of the Gods.

So, who is to say that science has a better explanation for the origin of these features than others who see the shapes and ascribe their origin to gods or aliens or whatever? In ages past there was no technology to truly study the origin of these rocks, and no cultural experience with deltas, or river floodplains, or beaches. The people who observed these towers thousands of years ago were just as intelligent (if not more so) than people today, but they had no experience or written history that could record the appearance of rocks forming today in the environments listed above. So they described the rocks in a way that best explained what they saw within the limits of their technology. They saw people, animals, and monsters, and produced stories and adventures that explained how they could be turned to stone.

The Battleship, right out of Monopoly!

Does science deny the possibility of aliens carving these exquisite sculptures, or that gods turned miscreant humans into stone? Actually, science doesn't. It does in fact state that these other explanations could be true but that the probability is extremely low, based on the absolute paucity of supporting evidence. The scientific explanation is supported by extensive and overwhelming evidence. Scientists would acknowledge that the presently accepted explanation could be supplanted were new evidence were to emerge. Indeed they expect such changes in the fullness of time.

Compare this attitude to that of someone who has decided on an explanation, truly believes it, and chooses to ignore any contrary evidence. There is no growth, no increase in knowledge in such an person. Belief doesn't make it real, but evidence makes an explanation more likely.

Some might say that science removes the excitement and mystery of a good creation story. I would respectfully disagree. I would say that an understanding of geologic processes leads to more mystery and wonder. Consider the rocks; once one realizes that these rocks were part of a coastal complex, the question arises: where was the ocean and why was it in this place? Today the oceans are a thousand miles away. These rocks were eroded from a mountain range somewhere. Could we find where that mountain range was? Why did those mountains rise? What forces were acting on the crust to cause them to develop? What kinds of creatures lived on these floodplains and deltas? Where did they come from? What happened to them? As it turns out, the world was only a few million years from the worst extinction event ever to take place on planet Earth. Some 95% of all species on the planet vanished 252 million years ago. All these questions invite further study and further growth. Each effort to answer these questions adds to the body of human knowledge. It is a creation story that grows and changes with the addition of new data.

On the other hand, it's fun to play games with these fascinating forms of nature. What do you think they are?

I know this: they are beautiful to gaze upon, even if beauty is a subjective judgement. Did the humans who first saw these desert monuments see them as beautiful? Or were they simply part of a rugged harsh landscape that may or may not be hiding a resource that could extend human life in this tough land?

I definitely see a huge mechanical hand rising out of the ground.

We passed the base of Lady in a Bathtub (picture below) and drove back down to Mexican Hat for one last stop in civilization. We were headed onto Cedar Mesa, one of my favorite places, and perhaps the spiritual center of my personal Universe. More as this blog series continues.

The Lady in the Bathtub.

The loop road through Valley of the Gods is accessed from US 163 out of Mexican Hat, Utah, while the west entrance is on US 261 near the base of the Moki Dugway. There are no facilities along the loop, which is managed and maintained by the Bureau of Land Management. There is a small campsite at nearby Goosenecks of the San Juan State Park, but no water is available. But bring a camera or sketchpad!

The Abandoned Lands...A Journey Through the Colorado Plateau: A real Hole in the Wall

Some places can only be described as a real hole in the wall...this one for instance, in the Mojave National Preserve in Southern California. Also, may I add, we need state legislators like we need another hole in the head (more on this later).

It was the first morning camp of our trip. The previous day was spent going 450 miles, so our stops were limited to the open-pit borate mine at Boron, and the parking lot at Calico Ghost Town, the subject of the previous post. Today we would have the chance to explore a little bit. We had spent the night at the Black Canyon Group Campground at Hole in the Wall within the Mojave National Preserve, but had arrived in the dark and couldn't see much. We awoke at an ungodly hour since the sun was our alarm clock (I had no idea the sun was rising so early these days). In the space of an hour, our group of 34 people would need to pack their gear, load the vans, eat a quick breakfast, and prepare their lunch.

We quickly discovered that the cool morning hours were the best time for any kind of presentation. For some reason, brains steeped in 100 degree temperatures for 8 or 10 hours seem incapable of learning much of anything. Our anthropology professor talked about the Shoshone and Piute cultures of the eastern Mojave Desert at the Rings Trailhead (below).

We were beginning to realize that we were in a bizarre landscape. We were surrounded by strange tan and brown colored rocks with intricate holes and weathered surfaces. You wouldn't know it to look at it, but there is a deep crevice cutting through the rock cliff in the picture below. That is Banshee Canyon, where we would soon be walking. These rocks were clearly different than those that we had seen on our trip across the western Mojave Desert the previous day. There had been contorted sediments, red volcanic necks, and bouldery outcrops of granitic rock, but now we were looking at mesas and buttes of flat-lying rock with an unusual pattern of weathering. What's going on here?

I try to imagine things this way...it is 18.5 million years ago. You can put yourself in the picture if you want, but humans weren't around for this one; you might have been a camel ancestor, or a three-toed horse. You might have been a rhino ancestor, or an elephant. Maybe a predator like the Amphicyon "bear-dog". You've been living all your life on a savanna. One day there is something new happening...a cloud rises on the horizon, higher than any other ever seen. It is not noticed by the grazing animals, but the rumbles are; the ground is shaking and there is a vibration in the air. The animals startle and begin stampeding, but do not know which way the danger lies, so their movement is aimless.

Soon the danger is apparent. The hills to the east are covered by a rapidly moving ground-hugging cloud. The heat is not yet felt, but the sounds are heard. The animals try to escape to the west, but there is no escape; the cloud is moving at more than 100 miles per hour, faster than any animal can run. The animals are overwhelmed and incinerated. The entire landscape is buried a few hundred feet deep in powdery ash and chunks of rock carried along in the inferno. The rock was so hot as it landed that it hardened into solid rock immediately, becoming a welded tuff.

Unsensed by any of the now perished inhabitants of the region, a gigantic hole has just collapsed thirty or forty miles to the east. Something on the order of 100 cubic miles of rhyolite (silica-rich) ash has just exploded from the Earth's interior, leaving behind a circular caldera 10 to 12 miles wide.

In your mind anyway, you have just witnessed something that no modern human has ever seen, the eruption of a giant rhyolite caldera, a literal civilization ender. Similar eruptions produced the depressions at Yellowstone National Park, Jemez Caldera in New Mexico, and Long Valley Caldera at Mammoth Lakes, California. The layers of ash are called the Peach Springs tuff. Another way of understanding the scope of this eruption is to realize that the village of Peach Springs from which the tuff takes its name is about one hundred miles to the east.

A short trail winds through the tuff exposures. A few short climbs are necessary, and rings have been embedded in the rock to help out. It is a fascinating place to explore!

After a few minutes in the slot canyon, the trail breaks out onto the desert floor and circles the butte for a mile or so. This is high desert, and there is a wide variety of plants to identify (and in the case of the jumping cholla, carefully avoid!).

The weird cavernous weathering is called tafoni, and it is the strange holes that give the region its name. They arise from differential weathering of the tuff brought about by variations in the cementation of the tuff, and once started, by the continued presence of dew on the shadowed interior  of the holes after the sun has evaporated water on the outer surface of the rock.

The Hole in the Rock campground complex is our new favorite place to stay in this region. It was a nice discovery for us, brought about because of the irresponsibility of our California state legislators. Providence Mountains State Recreational Area is only a few miles away, with the beautiful jewel of Mitchell Caverns as a main attraction. It was the first casulty of the state's stupid policy of closing state parks instead of promoting them. There are some last second machinations going on to try and keep most of the parks open, but it is too late for Providence Mountains; the last two rangers retired, and expensive repairs to the water system were needed. They closed the park last year. They abandoned it, and the worst has already happened: vandals have done grevious damage to the park facilities.

Abandonment is to be a theme of this series, and it comes in many forms. It would take but a few pennies from each inhabitant of California to keep Mitchell Caverns open and viable as a park, but we've apparently left it to history. As we came around the last corner we saw an earlier form of abandonment, perhaps of an involuntary type: petroglyphs of the native Americans who once roamed the region in nomadic bands.

I noticed some dry blood on the rocks while I was in the slot canyon. I thought maybe an owl was a bit sloppy while consuming the night's catch, but when I got back to the parking area, I found that the blood actually belonged to one of my students. The day was getting complicated...

Here is the explanation of my "abandonment" theme for this series: http://geotripper.blogspot.com/2012/06/abandoned-landsa-journey-through.html