AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

I mean, I think I have the polarity correct b/c the lights illuminate when they are in the "on" position. At the end of the day, it turns out I don't really care since I always leave these off now, so I haven't really worried about it. Actually, if anything, now I'd prefer that there be only one switch on the driver side...but again, I'm just happy to have them off all the time, so no biggie!

Hey, I resemble that remark!

Yeah, but I needed to get out. Was hoping that the rain being done for a few hours was going to be enough to dry it out a bit, but I learned that it really takes about 36 hours to dry to a "not clay" state. Still, the other thing I learned is that if you're there when it freezes at night, the roads are just fine while they are frozen in the morning, hahahaha!

 

Snow and Solitude - Owyhee Outback #2
Part of the Owyhee Outback (Mar 2021) trip.

The wind that had picked up just as I went to bed continued all night. In fact, it stopped nearly on cue as my alarm went off just before sunrise. This was actually fine by me - I hadn't been bothered all that much by the wind, and it would be nice to have a calm day as I was out and about.

I wandered away from the Tacoma - stretching my legs and admiring the nearly cloudless sky above - as the sun finally broke above the horizon.

I'd chosen a good spot.​

While I'm not usually a fan of freezing temps overnight - I'd much prefer milder weather - the mid-20°F air had left behind a nice side effect: all of the sloppy mud was frozen solid. I decided to skip breakfast and get underway in order to take full advantage!

I think my route goes through those hills. Should be interesting.​

Frozen mud on the Tacoma is impossible to remove, but is good because it doesn't get all over everything!​

I got a good several miles behind me - rolling up and down through the hilly landscape - the going so much easier than the previous evening. Despite the nagging in the back of my head of snow on the mountains in front of me, my confidence level - for the time being - that I'd make it through the route was increasing dramatically.

Greening up for spring.​

Leisurely, peaceful morning.​

A herd of deer crossed the road in front of the truck and once they got to a safe distance, they seemed as curious about me as I was about them. Our standoff lasted a good several minutes, before I climbed back in the truck and continued a little further down the road.

Lifetime supply of venison.​

Soon however, I was stopped again. This time, I'd spotted an interesting outcropping of rocks to my south and I figured I might was well explore them a bit - after all, slowing down and enjoying where we find ourselves - vs. rushing to complete as many roads as possible - is the best reason to do a trip like this.

Small volcanic arch and sun star.​

Small Thanksgiving dinner for one.​

My first destination for the morning was a hike at Three Fingers Gulch, so after getting my fill of rocky formations, I continued to make my way south - to what would be a 5 mile hike that I hoped to complete before lunch. Again, it was up and down through rolling hills - a really pleasant drive, save for the cow shit everywhere - with the roads still frozen into a nearly-paved condition.

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Petite filet.​

It was still before 9:00am when I started my descent from the plateau down into the Three Fingers Gulch area. The sun had been out long enough now - a couple of hours - that parts of the road were starting to thaw, but it was still plenty solid enough that I had nothing at all to worry about from a traction point of view. I had no idea if that would be the case later in the afternoon, but took solace in the fact that if traction became too poor, I could always wait for the following morning to drive out when it was frozen again.

Well, that looks interesting!​

Drawn in by the gulch.​

I wasn't headed up into the rocks, but they sure look like they might be fun to explore in the future!​

Small truck at trailhead.​

With the Tacoma parked at a nice little camp site at the end of the road, I gathered up my camera equipment, a bit of water, and no snacks - an oversight on my part given that I'd already skipped breakfast - and set off down the gulch towards a finger of Lake Owyhee.

On a map, this gulch - a great fissure in titanic rock - appears to be the primary drainage of Three Fingers Caldera. According to recent radiometric dating, the caldera spewed ash and lava fifteen million years ago to create much of the fascinating topography I was seeing today. Almost immediately, I spotted an old cave that I'd learned about in my research, and I headed that direction.

Cowboy cave.​

I'm not sure what I expected to find in the cave, and while I was unsurprised to see the ceiling covered in soot, all of the writing on the walls caught me a little off guard. I probably should have expected this as well - humans have a way of not being able to leave well enough alone - but nevertheless, I mumbled some disappointment to myself as I looked around.

What is gained by writing a name?​

Soon, I was back in the gulch, headed down stream, admiring the colors all around. The tall orange cliffs rose up all around me, and the river rock along the drainage was a rainbow of color. Most of the trail was easy going - meandering down the canyon, with only a couple tricky dry falls to navigate along the way.

Natural mosaic.​

With two-and-a-half miles to cover, it probably took me an hour or so to reach the mouth of the gulch and the shallowest finger of Lake Owyhee that one could imagine. A few clouds had started to form to the north - and all around, really - making for some wonderful reflections on the glass-like surface of the water.

Lake's edge​

Reflections.​

I continued on, the "trail" now consisting an infinitely long scree field that circles the lake, a testament to the low water levels, until I reached the main body. It was tough work and while I was hoping for expansive views, they turned out to be significantly less photogenic than those at the finger from which I'd come. Still, I was still glad to have made the trek as I slipped my way back along the scree field and up the canyon.

It was at this point that I had a decision to make. I could either head back to the truck for lunch, or continue up the canyon from the trailhead in search of two more items of interest that I'd uncovered in my research: a geocache and a wild horse trap.

Predictably, I decided that lunch could wait.

These rock walls must have been a lot of work to construct.​

A rock corral, in which wild horses are still trapped to this day by the BLM when the herd needs to be thinned.​

Within the corral, I immediately spotted the geocache. I forget exactly how I learned of its existence, but anyone visiting the area is likely to see it regardless of previous knowledge - its home quite obvious amongst the rocks. Inside, the usual geocache trinkets, which I picked through and admired as I left my mark in the log.

Cookies?​

Lovebug, guard of the geocache.​

It was 1:00pm by the time I wrapped up my time at the horse traps, and upon returning to the Tacoma, I enjoyed a chicken sandwich, some tasty potato chips, and one of the best Cosmic Crisp apples I think I've ever eaten. I still had quite a few miles to rack up on the odometer before the day was done, so as nice as the warm sun felt as I sat on a comfy rock overlooking the gulch, I stowed things in the bed of the truck and continued my trek south.

Into the outback.​

It was at this point that things got just a little bit dicey. For the three hours or so that I'd been enjoying my hike, the sun had been warming the previously frozen roads - drying them some, but mostly - returning them to their gooey state of slime. Wheel spin and plenty of over-steering were the order of the afternoon as my progress slowed. There was even a point at which - had I not known that one of the roads I was about to merge with was a well-graded gravel road - I might have turned back rather than continue deeper into the muck.

Boy was I glad to finally make it onto the gravel of Leslie Gulch Road. I could see where several vehicles had turned onto the road I was exiting, only to stop and back up about 30 feet in, after realizing its condition.

Let there be traction!​

Even so, my victory was bitter sweet. My earlier concern - that my track would take me through the snow covered mountains - was clearly well founded, and I knew that any secondary roads through this area were surely impassable. I could have just re-routed at this point, but I figured I didn't have much to lose by continuing on just a little further.

Leslie Gulch. Named for Silver City pioneer Hiram Leslie who was killed here by lightning in 1882.​

Even as I wound my way down Leslie Gulch and the snow began to thin, I knew it was irrelevant - the trail I'd mapped, climbing to over 8000' after it split off from the main route. Still, I couldn't help but enjoy the views outside the truck, the colorful rocks of this gulch really are some of the most striking in the area.

I don't know how often this area gets snow, but I think it only adds to the beauty.​

A small parcel of private land, well positioned.​

When I arrived at the road up Dago Gulch, I found it gated and locked. And so, regardless of the snowy conditions, I'd have been re-routing at this point anyway - this, as far as I could tell from my research- the only road that connected from this section of the Owyhee Canyonlands to the Jordan Craters area, without heading east to Highway 95.

Stopped in my tracks.​

My planned route, no longer open to vehicular traffic. At least, from this side. ​

Rather than turn around immediately, I continued down through Leslie Gulch to a boat launch on the edge of the lake. I've never been all the way down this road - having previously stopped to hike at Juniper Gulch - and it was worth the drive, each turn revealing rocky outcroppings of orange, yellow and black.

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I only look alone here; there were actually about 7 other groups - including 5 Tacomas - camped along the water's edge, and a campground just a quarter mile away.​

Having come as far as I could, I headed back the way I'd come, stopping only twice as I made my way to Succor Creek Road and along a short section of Highway 95 in order to re-join my track a little way south.

The first was for a milestone of sorts.

Close enough, right?​

It was less than five years ago that I hit 60,000 miles, and I was at 120,000 some 23 months ago. Lots of great memories and exploration in that time though, so I can't say that I have any complaints about the miles racking up!

The second stop was along a side road up into the snow. I wanted to see what the traction was like had I been able to make a run at Dago Gulch, and the answer - at least once the snow started - was that I'd probably have been OK. The snow provided a layer of protection from the underlying mud, and helped to keep the ground (more) frozen - my traction actually quite good as far as I could tell!

Poser.​

And with that, I adapted to the cards I'd been dealt, the gravel bypass roads making quick work of several dozen miles.

I need wider fender flares.​

As I mentioned, my plan had been to connect Leslie Gulch at the north with the road that leads to Jordan Craters at the south. Interestingly, as I sped along towards Jordan Craters, I noted that the road I'd hoped to use was not gated on the Jordan Craters side. Perhaps in the future - when the roads are a bit drier - I'll head that direction to see if I can find a way through - it would be a beautiful journey, I'm certain.

For now however, it was getting later in the day and I decided that I'd work my way past Jordan Craters and to the historic Birch Creek Ranch - situated on the Owyhee River - before deciding where to camp for the night.

The road to Birch Creek drops steeply into another spectacular gulch.​

How could I have this all to myself?​

I think there was a 1900' elevation difference over six miles of dirt road, all of it dry, which was a relief. I was surprised at the condition of the BLM-owned (since 1988) Birch Creek Ranch when I arrived; it's clearly well cared for and still regularly used, for something.

Stopping in to investigate.​

The main ranch house.​

The workshop.​

A secondary dwelling.​

The road continued for a mile past the main ranch house, and there was no way I was coming this far without driving to the very end! I didn't make it far before a badland-style hill across the river caught my attention, an old barn adding to the intrigue of this old place.

Quite a view for the livestock.​

Hard to say which is weathering better.​

I continued on, the river now seeming to pull me along as the road hugged the narrow spot between the rushing water and steep orange cliffs. And then, to my surprise, I spotted an old water wheel, this one apparently used for irrigation, several buckets and troughs still intact enough to discern their purpose.

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And then, eventually, I reached the end of the road. Now a boat launch - or landing, I'm not sure which - there was also a nice field, some fire rings, and the sound of the river rushing by just a few feet away. It was enough to convince me that I shouldn't push on any further for the night - I'd found the perfect place to camp.

And, I had the whole place to myself.

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With a couple of hours of light remaining, camp setup, dinner, and a walk along the river were leisurely and enjoyable. Two small planes came barreling through the canyon at one point - too fast and low for me to grab the camera - to add a little excitement to the evening.

It was almost too peaceful as I went to bed - the wind non-existent and the rhythmic white noise of the river lulling me to sleep...

 

Great write up and photos as usual

On the Red Mud- Fine line there, but when you gotta get away, you gotta get away.

Maybe a different venue? I had one mildly edgy red mud encounter in a lesser prepared vehicle. That just reinforced my experiences of my high school hunting excursions in my 52 Willy’s CJ2A.

I remember a trip out to Boulder, Utah, thinking about driving the Burr Trail in my old camper van Hector, a 67 A108 Dodge camper van. After successfully clearing a couple good mud holes driving up Cottonwood Canyon to Kodachrome st park, and on to Cannonville, felt a bit frisky. So after lunch in Boulder, we went on down the road till the end of the pavement. Looked around and remembering what the waitress in Boulder had said, ‘ best to stay off the Red when it’s wet’ decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned around and took the long and scenic route Needles District of Canyonlands.
Hector napping outside of the entrance to the Needles:

 

Doggos will love it, have a blast. Our next (not to post, but to visit) is going to be Black Rock Desert. My perception is "larger version of Alvord Playa" )

 

I drove through Black Rock desert for the first time in late September. "Larger Alvord" is fairly apt, but it has a drier, more barren feel to it.

Made a half-baked attempt to connect Black Rock and Alvord deserts, but was running solo and low on gas, so backed out and took the longer way around after scouting around a bit.

I'll be back for that route with better planning for sure.

 

Sun and Solitude - Owyhee Outback #3
Part of the Owyhee Outback (Mar 2021) trip.

My night at Birch Creek Ranch ended as peacefully as it began - there was no wind through the night, and while outside temperatures were cold, I was as warm as could be in the tent. Of course, being near the river, there was plenty of dew, and it was frozen to both the inside and outside of the rain fly when I awoke.

Even the little mud clumps on the Tacoma were frozen.​

Rather than wait for everything to dry out - I was at the bottom of the canyon after all, and waiting for the sun would have delayed me by a couple of hours - I decided my best bet would be to dry the tent when I ate lunch, and just put it away wet for the time being. So I packed everything up, had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and took a few minutes to walk over to the Morrison Ranch, another historic ranch along this section of river.

This dwelling of the Morrison Ranch looks perfectly sized and positioned to me. I wonder if the BLM ever rents these out?​

With the structures all locked up, my investigation didn't take long, and soon I was pulling out of the area, the time just a little after 7:00am. Making my way back up the gulch towards Jordan Craters as the sun rose above the horizon, the views were spectacular, if still a little shady, and I stopped several times along the way to simply turn back and admire the location from which I'd come.

Heading out.​

Golden valley.​

Before long, I found myself back at the turn off from Blowout Reservoir Road, and took it west towards Jordan Craters. Even now, I was unsure whether I'd visit the craters on this trip - I had, after all, been there several times already. With the roads frozen and therefore easily travelled, I only had a few minutes to make up my mind - and I found myself unable to resist turning off towards the lava field for a quick look!

The last - and largest - cone of Jordan Craters.​

Less than 1,000 years old, the volcanic landscape is barren for miles and miles.​

As I was pulling out and getting back underway, a fury scurry across the road caught my eye. Pretty sure I knew what it was, I stopped the truck, grabbed the camera and snuck up on the volcanic hole it'd dived into.

And I waited.

Well, hello there!​

Back to sunning itself, though still wary of my presence.​

Oh look, it's a family!​

I ended up spending more time watching this little clan of marmots than I did exploring Jordan Craters, but it was a good reminder to me that it's always important to just go look at stuff I am passing by - to be in the moment - since the most interesting aspect may be completely unexpected!

Eventually, I made my way back up the short spur to the main road, and set off to the west - once again into a part of the Owyhee Canyonlands I'd never before visited. My destination was one I didn't know the name of at the time, but would later discover is called Hole in the Ground - perhaps because it's back down at the Owyhee River, just as the Birch Creek Ranch had been.

Into the outback.​

No one else for miles.​

After putting several miles between myself and the craters, I came to a fork in the road that was also the site of a modern day watering trough for the cattle. No longer - it seems - do ranchers use big tanks or reservoirs to water the cows, instead it must be more cost efficient to have a fleet of water trailers that they simply haul to-and-fro, bringing out a new (full) one and hauling back the exhausted tank to refill. Smart solution, if you ask me!

Of course the Tacoma could pull that.​

And with that, I dropped down the side of the canyon towards what - even without knowing the name - I expected would be one of the highlights of my day.

Well, that looks promising, doesn't it? :biggrin:​

A butte on the way down.​

Now, I'd added this section to the route simply because the road existed and seemed to make its way into a hard-to-access part of the canyonlands. After adding it, some satellite and internet research suggested that there were a few interesting places I might visit along the way. The one I thought I had no chance of seeing - simply because it was 1000 vertical feet from the nearest point of the road - was a series of petroglyphs down by the Owyhee River. I haven't previously seen many (any?) petroglyphs in the Owyhee's, but I can only imagine that this must have been a popular place with the Native Americans, given the river as a water source and the vast grazing lands that are home to deer, elk, and a plethora of other animals.

As I continued my descent, I was contemplating the hike down to the river to see the rock art when I noticed a faint side road leading the direction I wanted to travel. Could I be so lucky? I followed the windy road to find out. And sure enough, as I reached the end of the road, I found myself in an area near the waypoint I'd marked on my GPS; I got out to take a look around.

Clearly a petroglyph. Of something.​

I was excited to find this anthropomorph.​

I walked around the sandy beach looking for more glyphs, but the few I'd found already seemed to be the extent of the cache. Strange actually, given the vast numbers of dark rocks in the area, and what clearly seemed to be an ideal "camp" site. So, I climbed back in the truck and headed back the way I'd come, admiring the geology - it reminded me of Chalk Basin - as I navigated to Hole in the Ground.

Like an enormous drip sand castle!​

Having already made it most of the way down, it wasn't long before I reached the main attraction - for me - of Hole in the Ground: an old homestead, hidden between a bluff and the river. And, it was in strikingly good condition - at least on the outside...

Hole in the Ground almost looked inhabited.​

The main home.​

An older building; for ranch hands, perhaps.​

The inside had clearly seen better days, and been ransacked over the years.​

A boot. Obviously.​

The rockwork on the chimney, and the keystone it contained, was clearly a labor of love when it was built.​

I spent a good twenty minutes or so poking around the homestead, opening various doors and wondering how life here must have been. Great in some ways - the surroundings were lovely - but harsh in others - the surroundings were unforgiving - I'm sure.

Looking at my map, I noted that the road continued on for another couple of miles, to a place marked only as "Owyhee Rock Dam." Curious as to what that could be - as there's no way there would be a dam across the Owyhee River at this point - my curiosity got the better of me and I set out to see what it was. I didn't make it far in the Tacoma - the road got narrow and quite sloppy about a mile before the dam, so I gathered up the camera gear and headed out on foot.

Headed upstream to the rock dam.​

By now, it was getting toasty out - by far the warmest day of the trip - but I still pushed myself to make good time, since I hadn't expected a hike at all, and these two miles (plus photos at the end) would add something like an hour to my itinerary. Of course, it was probably a little more than an hour, as I stopped along the way to take photos of the interesting geology along the way.

What is this green sphere embedded in the rock?​

Another one, but different.​

When I reached the rock dam, the name was immediately clear. A lava flow had blocked the river at this point some time in the past, creating a dam of rocks across it. Must have been quite the event when the dam failed - if it was a catastrophic failure - letting water rush down toward what is now Hole in the Ground, Birch Creek Ranch, and Lake Owyhee!

The lava rock on the far bank, remnants of the dam.​

Also at this location was a bunch of man-made paraphernalia, which I initially thought was also part of the dam. I soon realized however that it was completely unrelated - it was the inlet for an irrigation system used at Hole in the Ground.

This concrete and metal system of walls and valves allowed water into an aqueduct system.​

I'd noticed what looked like a canal along the side of the road as I'd walked out this direction, but couldn't imagine what it'd been for. It must have been to water the grazing and growing fields at Hole in the Ground, though even now I'm a little confused as to why they built such an elaborate system - it must have taken years - as oppossed to simply taking water from the river as it flowed by the homestead.

Whatever the reason, my curiosity as to what lay at the end of the road had been satisfied, and I headed back to the Tacoma, ultimately making my way back up the bumpy route to the lip of the canyon. There, I was greeted with wide open tundra and a snowy Steens Mountain rising up in the distance!

A local landmark. It's Steens Mountain.​

With my early start, it was still only 11:00am a this point, but I was already hungry for lunch and started looking for a place to make a sandwich and enjoy the every-warming desert around me. I was once again on an unnamed road, as far from pavement as possible, making my way towards Miller Lane when I found the perfect overlook of the Owyhee Canyon at which to open up the ARB fridge and satisfy my stomach.

I pull up to a break in the seemingly flat tundra.​

Owyhee, Oregon's Grand Canyon.​

So great was the view that I decided the best course of action was to grab a bag of chips and an apple and just go sit on the edge for a bit before I set about making a sandwich. It turned out to be one of the most pleasant twenty minutes of the entire trip, the water roaring by - silently - some 2,000 feet below.

In time, I did make my sandwich, consuming it at the same overlook, another twenty minutes of magnificent silence interrupted only by a crow flying overhead.

Refueled, I got back on the trail, making my way south now - toward the town of Rome - to a few more potential overlooks I'd marked for the trip.

I've arrived at the edge, again.​

The gracefulness of Steens Mountain, contrasted nicely against the badlands of Owyhee.​

I was being watched, by a lifetime supply of dinner.​

With one more long foray to the river's edge to investigate, I spent only a few minutes at the various overlooks, the miles of trail between them, deceiving in their pedestrian appearance.

Nothing to see here; Owyhee is boring. Might as well go somewhere else.​

Eventually, I reached the road I hoped would take me once again down to the water - for my final time on this trip, but to what appeared to be a glorious overlook and potentially spectacular camp site. Even the initial views from Bogus Ranch Road were promising, and I could feel myself getting excited to see what lay ahead.

"I wonder why they call it 'Bogus Ranch Road'?" I found myself wondering.​

Views to Chalk Basin.​

Unfortunately, my excitement was short lived. As I approached a small section of private land - through which the road passed - I spotted a gate. Usually not a problem, I pulled up to let myself through and was dismayed to find it chained and locked! Not only that, but a second access road was also blocked off in a similar fashion, the land owner clearly wanting to keep folks off their land.

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Is this Bogus Ranch?

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Because this feels quite bogus to me...

There was nothing I could do but kick up a little dust in disappointment and get back in the Tacoma, so that's exactly what I did. This portion of the trip - which I'd thought might take most of the afternoon, perhaps even into the evening and an overnight camp - had suddenly been cut short. In fact, the only thing left on my itinerary was something I'd assumed I'd do the following morning, just before heading home: check out the Pillars of Rome.

So, I called an audible and headed that way - through a few outlying farms and over a cool old bridge. In fact, I'd say the bridge was the highlight of this section of the trip, the pillars themselves rather unremarkable compared to what I'd experienced even just an hour before!

Anyone crossing this bridge from the south: It's a gateway to glorious!​

No need to visit the Pillars of Rome again.​

And with that, my adventure was complete. With several more hours in the day, I figured the best use of my time - having seen nearly everything I'd planned and then some - was to simply head home for a hot shower and to sleep in a real bed. The trip to Owyhee's Outback had been a smashing success, and I'd discovered several additional roads along the route which looked interesting to explore.

On a future trip to this wonderful corner of Oregon!

 

Wow ,very cool ,great pictures!

 

Awesome trip, and photos!
You never said anything about drying the tent?

 

Thanks Bill, glad you enjoyed it! Next story is right around the corner - either tomorrow or Wednesday depending on when I get my act together.

LOL, I was wondering if anyone would notice that. 50 points for being attentive!

I totally forgot to dry the tent at lunch, which would have been perfect, so I ended up having to dry it on the way home. I stopped for 30 minutes or so on the side of the highway - well, on the side of an off-ramp, actually - and opened it up. Lots of wind and some sun, and everything was good to go pretty quickly. A good thing too, b/c I arrived home to rain, so it'd have been a few days before I'd have been able to dry it otherwise.

So, now that I'm back from Black Rock, I can confirm for you that there is a dirt track to Alvord. More than one actually . Pretty cool place that Black Rock area; one I'll surely return to several times, now that I've gotten a taste.

​

 

Stymied Again by Lewis Lodge - Re-Ruined #1
Part of the Utah, Re-Ruined (Apr 2021) trip.

We had unfinished business in Utah, after our Ruining Around Utah trip back in spring of 2019. An unseasonably wet winter that year meant that the higher elevation roads were still impassable due to snow, so one of our primary goals - the Lewis Lodge ruins - remained just out of reach. And none of us have gotten back to see it since.

I'd had so much fun on that trip - searching for Native American ruins - that I decided it was time to go back. With only a month or so before the departure date, most of the guys couldn't make it work in their schedules; only Monte @Blackdawg was a maybe. Ultimately he wouldn't be able to make it either, but that just means another trip to the area is in my future!

This time, the plan centered almost entirely around ruins - Lewis Lodge, Hotel Rock, Moon House, River House, Jailhouse, and wonders of Arch Canyon forming the backbone of the adventure. Of course, I'd see other things as well along the way as I travelled Cedar Mesa from Blanding to Bears Ears, and down Comb Ridge to Gooseneck State Park to Mexican Hat.

As is often the case, the first day of the trip was one of driving. From Seattle to Blanding is not a short distance, and even leaving way before sunrise, it was after midnight when I levelled the truck on the shore of Recapture Reservoir and climbed up into the tent to catch up on the sleep I'd missed over the last 48 hours. Waking up for sunrise wasn't even something I considered.

Nestled away, awoken only by the sun warming my tent.​

Ultimately, I think I ended up with something like six hours of sleep, and climbing out of the tent to blue skies and the sun beaming down was enough to put a smile on my face. I wandered down to the reservoir to have a closer look.

Good morning, La Sal Mountains!​

A skipped breakfast for me, and a full tank of breakfast for the Tacoma later, and I found myself turning off of UT-191 just south of Blanding, for my first trail of the trip. Advertised as Dino Bones to Recapture Reservoir, it also had some Indian ruins, a series of Uranium Mines, and some tricky obstacles along the way. But hey, I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, I needed to get through the gate.​

I wasn't here for the views, but I wasn't complaining, either.​

Almost immediately, I took a wrong turn on the trail, but I caught myself within a few hundred feet and in no time I was headed the correct direction, into a Pinion Pine and Juniper forest, and then down into a canyon that had been hidden in the plateau just a few minutes before.

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This first part of the trail was a bit bumpy, but nothing at all to worry about. And the ground was dry - nothing like the mud I'd encountered on my previous trip to the Owyhee Outback - something I'd been worried about due to a good amount of rain and snow that had fallen in the area a couple weeks before. Before long, I found myself at my first stop - fossils!

Initially I walked right by this petrified log without even noticing it. A little distance made it recognizable!​

The end of the largest drumstick ever. I think. I mean, dinosaurs were essentially big chickens, right?​

Thrilled with my discovery - or really, my ability to follow directions to someone else's discovery - I loaded myself back into the Tacoma and continued on. Some more twisting and turning and I found myself driving in a badlands of sorts, water having eroded the soft dirt in irregular patters, tight turns able to navigate some holes; others requiring me to slowly dip down and back up through them.

A common side-blotched lizard; my audience through the badlands.​

The badlands extended a mile or two, and then I was climbing back up and out of them, now on the opposite side of the canyon I'd initially descended.

Up we go.​

Looking back down, the badlands were more colorful from above.​

More up.​

I probably spent more time taking photos than actually climbing this hill.​

Winding my way along the trail now, I was getting close to one of three obstacles on the trail that gave it a 7 (out of 10) rating by whoever knows how to rate trails. Known as Cave Canyon Hill, the terrain was definitely a bit rougher than I'd run into up until this point. I got out to walk this section of trail before continuing on.

A little rocky.​

Nothing the Tacoma couldn't handle with ease.​

After walking the first section, I found myself wondering what all the hubub was about. Sure, it was a little rocky, but just a little bit of line choice and 4-Lo made easy work of it. As a single truck, I figured it was only smart to walk the entire hill before starting up - so I did. It was the second section - which has eroded to a canyon, and is only going to get worse - that caused caravans of Jeeps before me to turn around. Some of the sections were narrow, requiring careful tire placement to avoid slipping into deep gullies, others spanned the gullies themselves, easier to navigate but perhaps more intimidating to look at.

A flexy section led to one that was only just wide enough for a - skinny - 1st gen Tacoma.​

Nature's 4-post lift.​

It wasn't the narrow or eroded sections that were the difficult parts here; rather it was the transitions between these that would provide adrenaline to drivers, so I took a careful look at the line I wanted to take through these transitions and then slowly navigated my way up without drama!

Having skipped breakfast, the top of this hill - a plateau really - was the perfect spot for an early lunch; a good view and plentiful camp sites in which to get off the trail in case someone else came along. Of course, no one did as I ate my Vietnamese chicken sandwich, chips, and apple with a view of the mountains.

I had the whole place to myself.​

My belly full, I packed everything back into the Tacoma and decided to do a quick once-over of the underside of the truck. I'd heard what I though were some unusual creaks and vibrations at various points through the morning, and figured that I might as well verify that all of my shocks and suspension components were still bolted firmly to the truck. Or, more likely, that one of the bolts to the skid plate had loosened up again.

"Loosened."​

If by loosened, one means "gone," then yep, it turns out that the two rear bolts securing the skid were definitely loosened. I considered pulling out the OSK to find some replacements, but decided I might as well wait on that until I got to somewhere paved - just to keep my clothes a little cleaner on day 1. Making a note to choose lines a little more carefully so as to not tax the compromised skid plate, I soon reached the far edge of the plateau and dropped off the other side.

Back down we go.​

This trail, it turns out, was a series of ups and downs - terrain wise - and after dropping off one plateau, I soon found myself at the bottom of a canyon, at a wash that - at times - is still quite active. So active in fact that it's completely washed out the road, making for a big ledge that has to be climbed in order to extract oneself from said wash.

The climb up Deadman's Ledge. Requires good approach, departure, and break-over angles.​

As with the first obstacle, the reputation of Deadman's Ledge was greater than the actual difficulty - at least in my opinion - and with no trouble at all plus a locked rear end, I made it up on the first go. I must say, I breathed a sigh of relief at this point - I'd heard quite a bit about this obstacle, including several videos that showed Jeeps being winched up, almost rolling over, etc. - and it had always been in the back of my mind that I might turn around when I reached this spot.

Instead, I continued on to Bradford Hill, the last difficult section of trail. This was a rocky, downhill, set of ledges, and I once again took a few minutes to plot my course before dropping down the near-vertical 15-foot section of trail.

Who needs skids?​

And with that, I was done with the hard stuff. From here, I had only sights to look forward to - the first being some old Indian ruins built up into the cliff not far from the trail. Predictably, I got out to investigate, hopping from rock to rock, trying to get the best angle.

My first ruins of the trip!​

Nestled into the landscape.​

Careful chinking.​

Time takes a toll.​

Craftsmanship.​

Pottery, even some with exterior artwork.​

While not huge, this first ruin was one of the few cliff dwellings I've seen - most of what we saw on our previous trip being built on open ground - and so left me feeling energized as I continued my loop back towards Blanding. It was another several miles before I'd come to the old Dixie Number 1 and Bradford #7 uranium mines - the last attraction along this trail. Across another ravine, I first spotted the old ore chute clinging to the hillside.

​

Remnants.

A short spur led partway down my side of the ravine, and for the first of what would be several down-one-side-and-up-the-other hikes, I headed over to check them out. Turns out there were lots of short tunnels into the canyon wall, none of them extending more than about 100 feet.

Don't mind me, just holding up a moutain.​

Nice view...too bad it's from a Uranium mine.​

Twin tunnels.​

And with that, it was some 15 miles of graded BLM roads back to Blanding, the drive easy and the views grand. The loop had taken me a couple hours longer than I'd planned, but I wasn't complaining at all. Well, except about those missing skid plate bolts.

There they are again!​

Easy cruisin'.​

The last turn before town.​

In town, it was feeding time for the Tacoma - just a little snack, since it was still mostly full from the morning meal - and then off to an ACE Hardware parking lot to replace the skid plate bolts - in case I didn't have any in my kit.

Uh oh.​

So yeah, turns out I'd somehow sheared off the bolts rather than lost them, and my choice now was to extract them, remove the skid, or just run it as-is. In the end, I opted for the later, with regular inspections to ensure I didn't lose any additional bolts.

That decision made, I set out west along UT-95 towards the spot that'd befuddled us the last time we'd come this way: the ruins of cliff dwellings known as Lewis Lodge. The last time we'd visited, we'd hit snow around 6500', so this time I'd reached out to Randy - a fellow adventurer who's a bit more local - to ask what the snow situation might be like this year if I tried to access Lewis Lodge through Bears Ears National Monument.

His response, unfortunately, wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Bad news.​

However, the suggestion to head up past Hotel Rock gave me some hope, and I figured that starting at 3:30pm would give me plenty of time to hike to Lewis Lodge after completing the seven mile drive. All I can say is... Famous. Last. Words.

On the highway, I threaded my way through Comb Ridge. I'd spend much of the remainder of the trip along this ridge, and I came to quite enjoy it.

A serious road cut.​

​

Making my way up North Comb Wash.​

Note: Visiting the Comb Wash area requires a pass.
For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.

Then, a mile or so up North Comb Wash, my turn off to Hotel Rock was right where I expected it to be. Almost immediately, I was glad I'd left my skid plate on. This road was nothing like I'd expected. So rocky! And ledgy!

Yes, there is a trail there.​

There was - essentially - no dirt on this trail. It was simply a series of tire marks up through the slickrock. As such, it was difficult to stay on-trail, and I soon found myself following a route many others have taken, but that does not lead to Hotel Rock. Instead, I found myself bouncing my way to an overlook of Arch Canyon.

I was off route, but I couldn't really complain about this view.​

Retracing my steps, I found the spot where I'd gone wrong, and continued on the correct way. If such a thing was possible, the road got rockier, the ledges got taller, and the trail got narrower along the side of the cliff. I had 3.5 miles of this trail before reaching Hotel Rock, and the first half mile took me nearly 45 minutes.

Finally - as I encountered a series of three near-vertical chutes that each individually reminded me of the wall on the Poughkeepsie Gulch - I gave up. Without a spotter or second truck to pull me out in case of disaster, this was just getting stupid. Lewis Lodge had beaten me again!

While I knew I couldn't complete a 14 mile roundtrip hike to Lewis Lodge at this point in the day - it was nearly 5:00pm by now - I figured that the 6 mile roundtrip to Hotel Rock was still within reach, as long as I brought a headlamp for the return trip. So, I made the decision to position the Tacoma for camp, right there in the middle of the trail - because seriously, no one was coming - with a nice view of Comb Ridge, and set out on foot.

Camp of defeat.​

As I hiked up the road - which again, I was only able to follow based on rubber marks on the rock, and by constantly looking at my tablet to ensure I was on track - I made significantly better time on foot than I'd been making in the truck.

Hiking the middle of the "road." Seriously.​

As I crested the ridge, the views were splendid, a few clouds having formed to my west, turning the oranges and reds of comb ridge into a deep, dark band across the landscape.

Looking north.​

It was an hour or so - right around 6:00pm when I finally reached Hotel Rock. Rising up and standing alone on the top of the plateau, I could see where it got its name. My already fast pace quickened over the last half mile.

Portrait view.​

Landscape view.​

Even from half a mile away, I'd spotted the cliff dwellings. As I got closer, I could see that they were - at this level anyway - built into a recess that largely ran around the entire rock, creating a space some six feet tall and ten feet deep. Softer sandstone that had eroded away - most likely - leaving a perfectly sheltered spot to create hotel rooms.

​

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​

​

I spent some time just climbing around - and looking into - each of the rooms. Perhaps these were used for shelter, but their size and the uneven ground inside suggested to me that they were more likely for storage than habitation. As I did, the clouds continued to roll in, the sun streaking down as it could to illuminate the landscape.

Comb ridge color.​

After completing my exploration of the obvious ruins, I could have just headed back to the truck - likely making it back just after sunset, but I found myself wondering if this was a two - or more - story, hotel? So, I wandered around the base until I - perhaps even a little surprised - found a route up, my curiosity now piqued!

Sure enough, a second level contained ruins as well, though significantly fewer in number and in much worse condition than the ones closer to the ground.

Petroglyphs!​

Once tall walls, ready to reassemble.​

A stash of stone bricks, ready for building.​

Making my way around the entire upper level, I eventually found a different way down, the sun just setting as I reached the bottom - a warm purple spilling across the sky.

If these were rooms, they had a great view.​

Now with limited light, I started back down the trail toward the Tacoma. I surely hadn't made it to Lewis Lodge, but Hotel Rock was no slouch either - I'd thoroughly enjoyed my time there; even the hike, enjoyable. The cherry on top? - as I glanced west, an arch caught my eye!

Uneven Arch.​

Even with the sun below the horizon I was able to hike most of the way back without the use of my headlamp - enough twilight to see where I was headed. It was only dark the last half mile or so - a point at which I could see camp in the distance, the tent shining bright as a beacon on the side of the ridge.

Easy to see from a distance.​

Back at camp, I made a quick dinner under the light of the canopy and spent a few minutes copying photos off the camera before yawning and deciding that an early night - after two nights with not enough sleep - was a reasonable course of action.

And so, camped here in the middle of the road, I brushed my teeth, grabbed a change of clothes, and climbed up the ladder. I still needed to figure out how I was going to adapt the trip given my inability to reach its main impetus, but that was going to have to wait for morning.

Stars up, lights (nearly) out.​

Little did I know as I nodded to sleep - this wouldn't be my last attempt at Lewis Lodge. Not by a long shot.

 

Inspiring as always.

 

Awesome work!

 

Look familiar?

 

Just an inch more. It's all I need!

 

TWSS.


Actually, I could go for about 16", so I could keep everything on the swingout when I park in the garage.

 

Don't you need a 'counter top' on the other side of that wall?

 

All Alone in Arch Canyon - Re-Ruined #2
Part of the Utah, Re-Ruined (Apr 2021) trip.

Perched on my little knoll in the middle of the road, I was happy that the night passed mostly windlessly so I could get some much needed sleep after the last couple of nights where I got almost none. Having gone to bed with clouds in the sky, but with a forecast of clear skies each day, I hoped that morning would bring a beautiful sunrise, followed by clearing. As such, I was up way too early.

Light on the horizon, but way too early. Shouldn't have gotten up.​

My alarm - set for a Pacific Time sunrise, rather than Mountain Time - got me up more than an hour before I needed to be down the ladder, so after a few shots I headed back under the covers for a few minutes.

Likewise, when I looked up and saw some color, I closed my eyes for just a few more minutes. Except that it was a few more than a few more.

Nice color. Should have gotten up.​

Having made the "no breakfast" mistake the previous morning, when I did climb down out of the tent after the sun was completely up and over Comb Ridge, I prepped a big bowl of cereal - enjoying it as I looked over the landscape; wondering what I should do first on this beautiful spring day.

The answer - obviously - was first to get down off this crazy trail to Hotel Rock, so after stowing all my gear, I gingerly made my way down the trail.

Easier when you're not worried that your front skid is going to fall off because it's missing two bolts.​

The easy part.​

I always find downhill more difficult than up - I think because I can't see the obstacles and drops as easily over the hood in that direction - so I was glad to be down with only a few places where I had to get out to spot myself. And now, I had a decision to make - turn north to Monarch Cave, or head south to Arch Canyon?

Ultimately, I figured that the light would be better in both locations if I ran Arch Canyon first, so that's the way I headed - hopefully early enough that I'd be the only one on the - what I was sure was a - popular route.

The mouth of arch canyon is choked in Cottonwood trees. Leafless now, they were a beautiful silver.​

Note: Visiting the Comb Wash area requires a pass.
For more information, check out BLM Utah Cedar Mesa Permits and Passes Information.

None of the road up Arch Canyon is particularly difficult, but the entire length twists and turns up the valley, slowing what could otherwise be a very fast trail. I was ready to take it easy anyway, and not far from the mouth of the canyon I pulled to the side of the road for the first of a dozen or more stops: Arch Canyon Ruins.

Protect and preserve for future generations.​

Being signed, these ruins were predictably in pretty bad shape - try as we might, humans have a hard time with the concept of protect ad preserve. Still, it was fun to imagine what this site must have once been, the towering wall of sandstone providing protection for a small village below.

The largest ruin. The hole in the wall used to support a log that spanned the interior and supported the floor of a second story.​

A circular structure, nearly gone.​

I really liked the stripes on the sandstone.​

A long, low structure with many footprints on the walls themselves.​

In addition to the ruins, this site also contained several petroglyphs etched into the sandstone wall. These ranged from geometric shapes to wonderful handprints, though - predictably there were also several modern scratching's as well.

Owl eyes.​

Spirals.​

A family?​

Notice below the handprints - the sandstone has been smoothed by modern visitors, destroying the glyphs. Then, someone etched in new markings. Classy. ​

From the Arch Canyon Ruins, headed back to the truck and pointed myself up canyon. Despite my disappointment around the state of the ruins, I was actually having a great time - extremely glad to have the canyon to myself, and happy that I'd opted to come this way first thing in the morning.

Winding my way through the stone monuments.​

As I made my way north - always my preferred direction of travel, since it puts the sun at my back - I found myself constantly craning around the cab of the truck, peering up at the cliffs in search of more ruins. Surely, in a location such as this, the marked ruins near the mouth of the canyon were not the only ones to be seen. Soon, my attention was rewarded as I spotted a line of cliff dwellings along the wall to my east. Thankfully, these - and all the remaining ruins I found - were unmarked, saving them from the destructive forces of UTV drivers. I got out to explore.

Just above the treeline, I spotted a well-camouflaged row of ruins.​

A round "guard house" at the point.​

I thought it was interesting how the outer wall was (more) rock, and the side wall was (more) mud.​

Layers of light.​

After poking around the ruins for a while - initially looking for a way up, and then realizing that the perspective from the ledge wouldn't be as good as from below - I wandered back to the Tacoma to continue my winding journey up the canyon. I was still early enough in the spring that there was a bit of water in the creek (river?) and I seemed to cross it continually as I followed the road from one side to the other.

Then, I saw it. High up on the wall - inaccessible without significant effort. I grabbed the binoculars for a better look.

Jailhouse Ruin.​

Closer.​

So named - obviously - for the wooden posts in the opening, this is a ruin that I'd love to visit again in the future. I think I've discovered a hiking route that would allow me access to the ruin, which would be fabulous to photograph from the interior. For now though, I continued on, the draw of the remainder of the canyon too great to sidetrack myself for what would surely be a several hour side-journey.

Oh look, another creek crossing!​

After maybe another mile, a small granary nestled in an alcove of the 260 million year old Cedar Mesa Sandstone. I think many of the structures we see today were actually granaries - ancient Anasazi storage facilities used to store surplus harvests (mostly corn) for lean periods.

Ancient granary.​

No longer a granary; now a home.​

With my head on a swivel and all the resulting stops, I wasn't making record time up the canyon. In fact, at this point I was only about halfway up the road, and though it was only 9:00am, I reminded myself that I had a full day of exploring after this canyon, so I should really get a move on.

As if that would make any difference in my speed.

Guess what?! Creek crossing!​

Sorry for disturbing you, ducks.​

As it turns out, I didn't see many more ruins on the second half of the trail. Only one more set caught my eye - built into a crevice high on the walls of Mule Canyon. Like the Jailhouse ruins, I'd like to return and hike to this set - a several hour journey for sure - on a future visit.

Can you see them? Discovering the path to the Mule Canyon ruins would be the most exhilarating part of their exploration.​

Despite not seeing more ruins, it took an hour to complete the second half of the trail, and it was 10:00am when I parked the truck at the foot trail that continued on to the arches that gave the canyon its name. In fact, I could see the first arch - Cathedral Arch - from the parking area, and it there was no doubt as to the thinking behind its name.

End of the road. Now the real fun begins!​

As I headed up the main trail, I soon realized - like the road had been to the ruins - that the trail wasn't going to lead me to the arch; rather to a viewpoint of the arch. This - for me - was unacceptable! A quick look at my topo map, and I determined what I thought would be the most likely - and perhaps only - successful route to the arch before breaking away from the main trail to bushwhack my way up.

I knew the only way to see daylight through the arch would be to get much closer to it. And I love a challenge!​

500' of elevation gain later, I'm sweaty and closer, but not there yet.​

Success?​

The hike up to Cathedral Arch had been fantastic. A little tracking of those before me, and some route finding when the trail got too faint to follow - the thrill of discovering a ramp up the sandstone here, a crevice I could inch up there - it was great fun and made me glad I'd decided to give it a go.

Still, I could tell that looking into the cathedral from the outside wasn't the pot of gold at the end of this journey. The real treasure - if it was achievable - was going to be looking out from the inside. And that meant I wasn't done yet!

I set about finding a route through - though the solution ended up being around - the arch.

Making my way around, grand sandstone columns rising high around me.​

Jackpot!​

Awe would be the best way to describe the feeling I had as I lingered there inside the cathedral, looking out its arch. Clearly such a reverent place, I found myself expecting to find some Native American dwellings or rock art on the walls around me, but while they surely found the place inspiring many hundreds of years before me, they must have enjoyed it the same way I did - looking out onto Arch Canyon and the wonders it held.

All alone in this moment.​

Having slowed down enough to enjoy myself, it was time to get myself back down to the main trail and on my way to the second - and last that I knew of - arch: Angel Arch.

And, while my route down was significantly easier - I was simply following my own tracks - it was no less eventful. Just a few minutes into my descent, a manzanita branch snagged my favorite pair of pants and gutted them before I could slow my momentum.

Hrm.​

Bummed - since it seems like all the camo cargo pants these days are skinny fit, and I'm more of a relaxed fit kind of guy - but recognizing that they are just pants, I plodded on - down to the main foot trail and then onward up the canyon. I must say, it was warming up, and a little extra air circulation through my leg region was actually quite nice.

It was a mile or so before I caught my first glimpse of Angel Arch, rising in the distance.

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Guarded by an Angel.

Like Cathedral Arch, the trick here was going to be finding the right angle to see blue sky through the sandstone structure. Even harder this time would be capturing both the blue and the angel at the same time. Still, I hoped it was possible as I made my way nearer.

Closer.​

Ultimately, I never found the perfect route up - though, it was likely for lack of trying. Having eaten a granola bar before setting off, my stomach reminded me that I'd already scaled this canyon wall once, and a glance at my phone suggested that spending a couple more hours doing it again probably wasn't in the cards for today.

I settled for a little blue.​

As I headed back toward the Tacoma, I took solace in the fact that - especially from the other side - the arch's angel wouldn't have been visible at all, so I wasn't really missing that much. Or at least, I tried to convince myself that was the case as I made good time down the main trail.

Warning, math joke: Square root.​

Mmmm, that truck means lunch!​

By now, it was 11:30am and while I was definitely hungry, I opted only for an apple and some chips before starting back down the canyon. My thinking - flawed as it may have been - was that I could make my way out before too many folks (UTVs) started up the road toward me, and then I could eat lunch on my way to the Monarch Cave.

Of course, in reality, the UTVs were already on their way and there was no way I wasn't going to stop for a previously unnoticed ruin on the cliff side - so my lunch would just have to wait.

Striped sandstone near kitchen ruins.​

Well protected kitchen ruins.​

The kitchen. Soot on the ceiling.​

Turns out I made pretty good time down canyon, reaching the mouth a little after 1:00pm. A final look at the stripes of Arch Canyon Ruins and I turned myself north.

The elusive tiger sandstone.​

Little did I know that my fabulous morning would be completely overshadowed by the afternoon's activities!

 

I've noticed more climbers in the area recently. There was picture posted with a bolt placed on a petroglyph panel. It's frustrating to know someone looked at the panel, went "fuck it", and continued on. I remember hearing the Park Service closed a popular arch because of the foot traffic and crap that people were leaving behind.

People suck. It's that simple. The thing is, rather than do the hard thing and make people better around ancient and important historical areas, they close them. Or open them only to those with reservations-and this is becoming a more prevalent option.

 

Because they can't. There are some people who simply will not give any regard to this kind of thing. They will ruin stuff out of spite, or because someone said "Don't".

 

I would disagree but then I also believe it's not an easy thing. And if we don't do something to stop it, you won't be visiting anywhere "special" at some point.