A Stroll Through the Gateway to the Narrows of the Virgin River

I bet no one has ever thought to take pictures of this place before! Or not. The Gateway to the Narrows trail is only the most popular trail in one of the most visited national parks in the system. I often try to describe places off the beaten path, but sometimes it's fun to catch these popular spots and be reminded why they are so famous in the first place.

Zion National Park is the ultimate exposure of the dramatic Navajo Sandstone, which formed in early Jurassic time as a widespread "sea" of sand dunes extending from Wyoming to Arizona and Nevada. The formation is more than 2,000 feet thick at Zion, where it forms vertical red and white cliffs.

The cliffs have been exposed by the rapid incision of the region by the forks of the Virgin River. Where the river has reached the underlying Kayenta Formation, mass wasting and erosion has caused rapid cliff retreat, forming a wider valley with a flat floor that allows for the development of tourist facilities (the campgrounds and visitor centers and such). Things change at the upper end of the valley where the river is flowing exclusively in the Navajo Sandstone. The canyon is 2,000 feet deep, but in places is only a few feet wide. The Narrows of the Virgin River is a stunningly beautiful place.

At road's end at the Temple of Sinewava, an easy 1 mile paved trail provides access to the narrows. That's where I was the other day.

It is one of the more crowded spots in the park, but the mess is mitigated somewhat by the wise decision of the park service a decade or so ago to ban cars from the upper canyon. Today, the only engine noise comes from a tram every ten minutes or so. The hikers jump out, disperse, and it is quiet again.

When the lower canyon is stewing in the desert heat, the Gateway is cool and shady (no wonder it is popular). Water seems to be everywhere, in the river itself, and dripping out of the canyon walls. The Navajo Sandstone is quite permeable, but the underlying Kayenta Formation is not. Springs are often found at the contact between the two, such as at the "swamp" (our friends on the trip from the southeastern states probably snickered a bit about the name; at least we didn't have to worry about crocodiles...).

The lush greenery attracts plenty of animals, including a national park deer (i.e., they graze right next to the trail and pose for pictures).

 The springs emerging from joints in the rock produce beautiful hanging gardens with flowers of all kinds.

 The columbines are my perennial favorites...

 As the sun climbs higher in the sky, the walls of the canyon are reflected off the Virgin River.

For all the crowds, it is a beautiful and serene place.The paved trail ends at the entrance to the Narrows of the Virgin River. One can don some water shoes and explore upstream for miles. Or take a road to the isolated north end of the park and backpack downstream through the narrows. Or one can just sit somewhere and listen to the river and the birds.

More on Zion in the next post!

A Dam Big Shame, and Things Lost and Gamed...

A different "Paradise Lost"...

It just doesn't get much better than this, to stand on the brink of a high cliff in the barren desert, and to see a stream of life-giving water in the depths below. Of course, if you are in trouble and dying of thirst, you are pretty well screwed, since the cliffs are pretty much unclimbable! There is a story behind the dramatic appearance of the river in the photo. It not a genuine river anymore, not exactly. It is a blunt instrument, wielded badly.

Glen Canyon Dam was built between 1957-1964 after a contentious environmental battle over whether national parks (Grand Canyon – Bridge Canyon dam) or National Monuments (Echo Park dam-Dinosaur National Monument) should have reservoirs extending into their boundaries. Glen Canyon was at the time protected by neither designation. The dam is 710 feet high (216 m) and 1,560 feet (475 m) wide, with a volume of 5,370,000 cubic yards (4,110,000 cubic meters) of concrete. It is anchored in Navajo Sandstone. When full the lake is 186 miles (299 km) long, with 1,960 miles (3,150 km) of shoreline, and a total capacity of 26.2 million acre feet (equivalent of two years of the average flow of the Colorado River). The lake is a popular national recreational site today, but Glen Canyon was once one of the most beautiful valleys along the Colorado River. Unfortunately, when the dam was completed, only a few hundred people had floated down the river to see the stunning canyon (and therefore explaining my title of things "lost and gamed"; the dam was built here by threatening to put dams elsewhere).

After construction was completed in 1964, the lake slowly filled (since water use downstream did not cease, only surplus water was used to fill the lake) and did not reach capacity until 1980. In 1983, the dam came perilously close to failing due to a major flood and design errors. Instead of using floodgates and spillways at the top of the dam for emergency drainage, designers utilized the diversion tunnels used to channel the Colorado River around the dam site during construction. They proved woefully inadequate to the task in 1983 as cavitation caused the walls of the diversion tunnels to rip out. In places the powerful flow of water cut 32 feet (10 meters) into the soft Navajo Sandstone and threatened the structural integrity of the dam itself. The diversion tunnels had to be shut down, and the lake threatened to flow over the crest of the dam in an uncontrolled fashion. This could have led to catastrophe, as such uncontrolled flow could have eroded and weakened the sandstone abutments of the dam. Failure of Glen Canyon dam would have led to the domino-like destruction of other large dams downstream, and the decimation of the water-supply infrastructure of some thirty million people. The disaster was averted by the construction of an 8 foot high dam of wood flashboards that held back the water long enough for the flood to subside. The structural integrity and survival of the dam came down to about one inch...the distance between the water level and the top of the flashboard dam in 1983.

Dam engineers are confident that modifications to the spillway tunnels will allow the dam to withstand future flooding events, but other concerns have become prominent. The southwest has been suffering an extended drought, and lake levels in recent years have become perilously low, threatening to turn Lake Powell into a “dead pool” incapable of producing electrical energy. In 2013 the lake was filled to less than 50% of capacity. Some water experts suggest that the lake may never be able to fill to capacity again, in part from drought, climate change, and upstream diversions of water.

Back to that photo at the top of the page...it isn't the whole story. The spot is called Horseshoe Bend, and it lies just a couple of miles downstream of Glen Canyon Dam. It is an entrenched meander, which developed when the land was uplifted, while the originally sluggish winding river started cutting downward instead of laterally. The rainbow-like pattern of red rock and green-blue water is an artifice of the reservoir. Unlike the olden days when copious amounts of silt caused the river to flow red, the water draining from the lake today is transparent and cold, in the 40-50 degree range. For a river in a hot desert, this is extraordinary. The ecosystem of the river evolved in different conditions than this, and species are sensitive to the new regime. Natural species of fish, amphibians and insects are in a difficult situation. For we humans it is ironic that river rafters have look out for hypothermia in their crews if people get dumped in the river on a day when the temperature is over 110 degrees.

So the view is just stupendous, but sobering at the same time. It can be reached by a short 3/4 mile long sandy trail from a parking lot on Highway 89 just 4-5 miles south of Page, Arizona. The highway is closed because of a serious landslide farther south but is open to the parking lot. It is well worth your time if you are ever in the region.

What to do? Playing the Slots (Canyons, that is)

One of the most beautiful sights you will ever see is a slot canyon on the Colorado Plateau. Formations like the Navajo Sandstone are good cliff-forming rock layers, and yet they are easily eroded under the right circumstances. Flash floods carry a lot of abrasive sediment, and they work quickly to turn the slightest crevice into an intricately winding maze that can be dozens, even hundreds of feet deep and only a few feet wide.

Add to the maze-like labyrinth the glow of the fierce desert sun, and the rock seems to glow. Exploring a slot canyon can be an exercise in spiritual awareness.

Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona on the lands of the Navajo Nation is regarded by many to be one of the finest slot canyons in existence. The gulch that formed it drains a region of many square miles, and flash floods can deliver tons of sand in a matter of minutes in water/mud twenty feet deep.

 We traveled through it yesterday, and I wanted to share some of the photographic results....

Antelope Canyon embodies a sort of perfection of form and light...the crossbedding structure of the ancient sand dunes adds wonderfully to the texture.

 And the darkness contrasting with the light presents a wonderful challenge to the photographer.

As our visit continued, the sun rose higher, casting more beams of light in the greatest depths of the gorge.

It was just as perfect a moment of spiritual peace and recognition of the paradox of chaos and order in the Universe that one can imagine. Except for one thing. One really important thing...we had to pay a pretty penny for the privilege, and we were conducted through the canyon like cows being herded onto a cattle train...and thus comes the paradoxical question: What to do about it? How to find some way of centering the spirit and finding the peace and solitude so many of us covet?

Well, I suppose you seek out the ragged little sibling canyon that isn't so perfect. Maybe a part of the Navajo Sandstone that has been broken and jointed by the compression of the Earth's crust. Maybe a canyon carved not by mushes of sand and mud, but battered by boulders of solid chunks of rock. A canyon with unstable walls that can collapse and fall without warning.

Maybe you seek out a canyon like Cottonwood Wash in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument...no admission fee, no guides, no people, just quiet.

 And a different kind of beauty: a hard edged beauty. Not as colorful, but full of character.

So, really: how do you choose? Perfection, but with crowds and cattle prods? Or a roughhewn rugged beauty with intense solitude and serenity?

 For me it is no contest...solitude wins out every time. But there is the other solution to the quandary...

 You do both! And that is why yesterday was a great day....

I know of lots of other slot canyons out there. What are your favorites?

Where They Almost Damned the Grand Canyon...

 Is there a limit to the destruction that humans can do? Yesterday's post concerned our desire to control the natural world around us, which in the case of the Colorado River meant the building of mega-dams, giant piles of concrete that pretend to hold back the floods, and dole out the riches of gravitationally produced electricity. Unfortunately such mega-dams were built with a priority of utility over beauty.

Of course, hardly anyone can profit from beauty, and if only a few people know of a place or have ever seen it, it can be easy to subvert a place to the profit of a few. After visiting one of the mega-dams, we explored a little-known road that actually reaches the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It follows Peach Springs Canyon and Diamond Creek to the Colorado River in about 20 bumpy dirt road miles. It is well known to river-runners, as the road serves as a take out point for river trips.

As we cooled our feet in the water, we had to contemplate that sixty years ago, this place was slated to become the next big dam on the river. The reservoir would have inundated miles of national park land upstream. It was unthinkable, and in the fashion of the thinking of the time, the dam was built instead in a place that only a few hundred people had ever seen: Glen Canyon.

It's hard to contemplate what was lost.  And only slightly a relief to know that at least one place was saved.

A Dam Big Dam and a Dam Big Bridge...And a Dam Frightening Problem

Oh, how mighty are the works of man...and how arrogant we sometimes get when contemplating our great works. Our first stop on our tour of the western Colorado Plateau was a visit  to Hoover Dam and Lake Mead, the gigantic tower of concrete that blocks the Colorado River, and holds back 30 million acre-feet of water. It's the biggest dam reservoir in the United States. How much is 30 million acre feet? More than two years of "average" Colorado River flows for one. The largest dam in our region back home, Don Pedro on the Tuolumne, holds a paltry 2 million acre-feet.

The dam was built during the height of the Great Depression between 1930 and 1935, and just two years after the catastrophic failure of St. Francis Dam in California that killed around 600 people. Lessons learned from the failure of St. Francis led to modifications of Hoover Dam which presumably make it more or less indestructable.

Just the same, it is amazing how many faults are exposed in the canyon walls adjacent to the dam. The rocks forming the abutments are Miocene volcanic tuff, which doesn't dissolve or crumble in water (a major factor in the St. Francis event). But the rock is highly faulted, and it is a great place to explain slickensides, the scratch marks that occur when blocks of rock slide past each other. The rock is literally polished.

The visitor center is guarded by giant copper art-deco angels that made me feel like I was entering the walls of Minas Tirith in Lord of the Rings.

The thing is dam big. It's more than 700 feet high, which was the highest in the world when it was built (now it is 18th). One can drive or walk across the dam thing, but it is no longer the main highway between Kingman and Las Vegas.

In 2010, work was completed on the O'Callaghan-Tillman Bridge just downstream. It towers 880 feet above the river, and more than 200 feet above the level of the dam. Walking across the top allows the incredible perspective of the dam and lake in the top photo of this post.

 Looking down the dam face is disorienting, but it looks like a great slide (although one's pants would surely catch fire from the friction...). The white thing is part of the power generating complex.

The bridge really is a stunning piece of work, although it is a bit disconcerting to feel it vibrate as the big trucks pass by...

Looking down the other face of the dam is disconcerting too. It's been a long time since the dam was full (1983 to be exact). The water level looks to be only a hundred or so feet low, but that represents perhaps half the storage capacity of the reservoir. A decade long drought has brought down the reservoir to perilous levels (13 million acre-feet), and some forecasts suggest it may never fill again. 30 million people in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Phoenix and in many agricultural areas depend on the supply of water, but it just isn't there.

And that's dam frightening.

Picture of Peach Springs Tuff (with Big Bird Bonus)

The Internet connection at our hinterlands location is slow and undependable, so tonight is just a picture of the Peach Springs Tuff, an 18.5 million year old rhyolite tuff that covered a vast area between Peach Springs Arizona and the Mojave Desert near Barstow. It is nicely exposed along the old Route 66 in Kingman Arizona, which was one of our stops today. There also seems to be a large fledgling bird sitting on the rock and partly blocking the view, but I found it interesting. I am assuming it is a Red Tailed Hawk fledgling. Is there anyone who can confirm or correct?

Seeing Things Upside Down in the Red Rocks: What To Do When You Get Bored With Las Vegas

Bored in Las Vegas? Really? Okay, the town is such an aberration in the desert that one can hardly get bored, but my attention was really elsewhere as we tried to get ready to meet the people traveling with us through the western Colorado Plateau. It took only three hours to get our rental vehicles, and it took some wrangling to get the last person to the hotel from the airport, but by 4:30 we had everyone, and most of them were ready and willing to check out some geological sights west of town. We headed to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

I made an appropriate first impression by missing the turnoff to the park, and taking the crew on an impromptu crossing of the Spring Mountains. But good ole Captain Eagle-Eye Wrong-Way eventually got us back to the road we wanted, and we headed towards one of the more stunning sights in the Basin and Range Province.

The Keystone Thrust was a Cretaceous structure that developed during the Sevier Orogeny, involving a section of the Earth's crust being compressed and pushed over the adjoining rocks. Rocks brought up from the depths are often older, so at Red Rock Canyon NCA, 500+ million year old Cambrian Bonanza King Limestone got pushed up and over the younger Jurassic sediments called the Aztec Sandstone. The site pretty much defines the term "contrast". Dark limestone forms the high Wilson Cliffs, while bright colored sandstone livens up the Calico Hills

There was also a lot of green. For some reason lots of flowers were evident (despite the desert environment, we were at well over 4,000 feet in elevation). The plants had attracted all manner of bugs and beautiful hummingbirds (top picture).

From the high point on the park loop, we were treated to an awesome view of the imposing cliffs of the Spring Mountains and the Keystone Thrust.

 The rocks maybe weren't really upside down so much as out of order. But the lizard climbing on the big boulder of sandstone was definitely upside down. I wish I could climb rocks that way!

I also wish for an eventful trip this week (in a good way) as we make our way tomorrow to Peach Springs and a drive to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. More later!