AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

More Than We Bargained For - Swell #3
Part of the Oh, So, (San Rafael) Swell (Apr 2022) trip.

I have to admit that we were a bit nervous as we climbed into the tent on our little hill next to Sid and Charley. As I'd pulled onto the pedestal, we'd noticed dozens of little burrows, and were a little concerned that we'd wake up to mice in the engine bay munching on wires.

Luckily, as I climbed down the ladder to greet the sun, no such fate had befallen us!

The light show. It's starting.​

Purple giving way to orange.​

Crescendo.​

I knew we had a full day ahead of us, so my whistle to the one snuggled away in bed came earlier than usual, her relief that no rattlesnakes had slithered out of the burrows, apparent as she set about her morning routine. To make everything easier, I pulled down off the hill for tent stowage and breakfast preparation, both of which were done in a quick and efficient fashion that suggested experience. And then, we were on our way.

Headed south from Sid and Charley, high clouds blocking the bright morning sun, but the orange rock of the Swell still blazed like fire against the sky.​

Looking back, a nearly complete lack of wind made for a dusty trail in our wake.​

Some nice views to the west, and we hoped that in the battle between sun and clouds, that we'd end up with a few puffy white balls in an otherwise blue sky.​

Heading east, we had approximately 15 miles of pavement - first on Moore Cutoff Road, then on I-70 - to our next destination at the Head of Sinbad. As we joined I-70 east, we began to climb. I suppose, looking back on it now, that we were climbing the western side of the San Rafael Swell, so technically the "unexpected" landscape we'd experienced the last two days simply meant that we hadn't yet really arrived.

As ground began to level out, an overlook presented itself, and while we don't generally stop at roadside viewpoints, for some reason I took the exit. Moments later, we found ourselves perched high on a limestone layer of the Carmel formation - prevalent across the Colorado Plateau - which formed in an ancient inland sea. As the sea covered giant sand dunes, they eventually turned to massive deposits of Navajo Sandstone. Here in the San Rafael Swell, erosion has cut the Navajo Sandstone into great white monoliths, knobs, and canyons, with the rock layers dipping slightly to the west. With erosion cutting and sculpting the rock over millions of years, the monoliths will become knobs, the knobs will become mounds, and the mounds will eventually succumb to erosion and disappear. Even the cliff from which this photo was taken will be worn away, and we may once again be standing at the bottom of the ocean.

This is the San Rafael Swell I was expecting.​

After enjoying the view for a few moments, a little voice in the back of our heads suggested that we should get a move on - we had a lot of ground to cover - and we hopped back into the Tacoma for the final few miles to the center of the Swell and the Head of Sinbad.

Inexplicably, no exit existed, so we took the first one that presented itself - Temple Mountain Road - and backtracked on dirt until we came to a relative rarity, a tunnel under the freeway!

This colorful road cut was enough to make me stop and admire.​

It's not every day that the sanctioned freeway underpass doubles as a culvert.​

As we approached the Head of Sinbad, I was really looking forward to the change in terrain. Driving through these monoliths and canyons was exactly what I'd been hoping for!​

Before setting off on our trails for the day - what I hoped would be a nice break from the onslaught of petroglyphs and pictographs we'd enjoyed for the first couple days of our trip - we had a couple things to check out.

Pictographs, obviously!

The first panel we came to had seen better days, the entire top half of the panel having collapsed after the art was created.​

We spent longer at this first panel than we'd planned, as there was a Barrier Canyon Style (BCS) shaman that we were hoping to find - but couldn't. After a good twenty minutes, we finally decided to cut our losses and head to the next location, where we promptly found what we'd been looking for a half mile away!

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Snagged my ‘typical’ photo of this shaman at the Head of Sinbad through the tree in front. Pretty much everyone seems to take the photo this way, so I figured I might as well too!​

On closer inspection, perhaps this should more accurately be called the Skeleton Shaman,

or The Snake Who Tells Time.​

Nearby, more BCS from the Archaic People, though years of water have erased some of the detail to the left.​

I was most intrigued by the seven chickens between the two figures.​

The snake-wielding figure on the right may be the first work ever to be branded with a Copyright logo.​

After visiting Falling Man in Gold Butte National Monument, I've enjoyed trying to capture rock art with a bit more context rather than as a perfectly straight shot. To me, it seems to add a bit more visual interest, since rock art is so often found on rocks that are themselves spectacular.

A final shot of the shaman from a different angle.​

And with that, we wrapped up the pictographs. Mostly. Sort of. Well, for a few hours anyway.

Headed north, we were now on a four-trail loop through the heart of the San Rafael Swell. The plan - if we could do it - was to follow Devil's Racetrack to Coal Wash to Fixit Pass and finally to Neilsen Dugway, ending up where we started. I say "if we could do it," because prior to departure, I'd learned that Fixit Pass had been unfixed by storms a few months earlier, and a couple of the videos I'd seen were somewhat hairy looking. Enquiries on various forums and groups hadn't yielded much in the way of information, so I knew that we could find ourselves backtracking if the road was impassable.

I had no idea at the time, but Fixit Pass would be a walk in the park compared to Devil's Racetrack. But now I'm getting ahead of myself. First, we had an arch to check out.

Dutchman Arch, or a part of it at least.​

In the right place at the right time. This silhouette and glow of the arch caught me off-guard, since usually shooting into the sun doesn't work out all that well.​

With Dutchman Arch in the rear-view mirror - or more appropriately, side view, since the rear is blocked and useless due to the tent - we took note of the "most difficult" sign at the beginning of Devil's Racetrack and cockily commented to each other that the sign was meant to warn off the Subaru Forrester's. And yes, looking back now, I feel as though a phrase about counting chickens might be appropriate.

At any rate, the first part of the trail was certainly more technical than anything we'd driven so far, but it wasn't all that challenging as far as I was concerned.

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A few small ledges and plenty of slickrock made the going slow and bumpy, but not overly difficult. At this point, I'd have rated the trail as being similar to Moab's Top of the World.​

Mostly, we were focused on the views, though these would be nothing compared to what was to come.​

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The new Alcan leaf springs got little workouts here and there.​

As we made our way further and further into the Head of Sinbad, the trail got trickier and more technical. Still, at this point it wasn't anything I was worried about as the increase in difficulty was a bit like sitting in a pot of water being brought to a boil - you don't really notice until it is too late.

Plus, as the difficulty increased, so did the beauty of our surroundings, and we were both really enjoying the change in scenery.

What a treat - and the sun was coming out too!​

Every corner we turned, monoliths and canyons rose and fell in the distance.​

Larger ledges started to appear here and there, but they were - at this point - mostly downhill and not all that imposing.​

It's hard to tell from this angle, but this is a Top of the World style overlook of a deep canyon that winds its way through the San Rafael Swell. I can't say my passenger was thrilled to have the truck in this position.​

A quarter of the way into Devil's Racetrack, we were pretty jazzed. Views don't get a lot more spectacular than this.​

It was just before we reached the Devil's Backbone that things started to get a little hairy. And by a little, I think @mrs.turbodb would say, more than enough. Certainly, there were several places that required skill and a good line in order to avoid prolific use of skid plates and sliders. And, as the trail worked its way out onto the very edge of the canyon wall, there was one spot that created one of the most off-camber situations I think I've ever experienced.

Working our way along the beginning of Devil's Backbone.​

With plenty of traction on the slickrock, the Tacoma performed well, doing nearly everything I asked of it the first time, and only requiring me to have a get-out-and-look-see in a couple of places - just to make sure I understood my tire placement before attempting a particularly tricky section. Still, the trail was definitely living up to its rating, and I nonchalantly asked @mrs.turbodb what we would have done if we'd happened on a trail like this back when we undertook our first adventure on the Oregon Backcountry Discovery Route (OBDR).

No question about it, we'd have considered it impassable.

To her credit, @mrs.turbodb rattled off a few of the most useful modifications to the Tacoma in the last several years - larger tires and experience being the most important - that made this only considerably terrifying for her.

Devil's Monument.​

Green trees, orange slickrock, white snow and blue skies. While the trail had its challenging sections and always required two hands on the wheel, I'd say it was worth it.​

Having successfully completed Devil's Backbone, I think it's safe to say that we were both hoping that the worst was behind us. For me, this was really a function of being a single vehicle - though as the day would progress, we'd see several other people on the trail. But rather than get easier, we shortly found ourselves at a set of ledges that stepped up a rise about 2- to 3-feet at a time, spaced approximately as far apart as the wheelbase of a 1st gen Tacoma. A bypass looked a bit easier - until it reached a vertical 4-foot ledge with sand at the top and bottom - making it a non-starter in my opinion.

Starting up the stairway.​

Some places got a bit off-camber, but trailing tires gripped easily to right the situation.​

If only this were the top.​

The last ledge was the tallest.​

Up we go. On the second try, and with the front locker.​

We didn't know for sure at the time, but we definitely hoped that the worst was behind us at this point. It was only 11:30am, but the constant adrenaline over the last couple hours had both of us hungry, and we decided it was time to find somewhere with a view - and ideally some shade - to enjoy a tuna sandwich.

A familiar butte, that we'd been driving towards all morning.​

Getting closer.​

Finally, we found a nice wide spot in the trail with a juniper tree providing shade, and it was time for lunch!​

As @mrs.turbodb assembled sandwiches, I looked down into the canyon and spotted Slipper (Swayze's) Arch, which we'd be driving by a little later.​

Having already spent three hours on the first of four trails for the day, we ate lunch relatively quickly so we could get back underway. Thankfully, the segment of the trail after lunch turned out to be less technical, so we made good time - except that someone kept stopping for photos - as we ticked off the miles towards Coal Wash.

There were a few more (relatively) easy ledges.​

Some small rocks here and there.​

And views. This, obviously(?) is Joe and His Dog.​

The Golden Gate.​

Another view of Joe and His Dog, with the back side of Devil's Monument​

Eventually we found ourselves descending off of the ridges that we'd been following and down into the washes that wound their way below.

At the northern end of Devil's Racetrack, the skies weren't looking all that inviting, but we hoped that the wind would blow them past us to the north.​

As we turned south into Coal Wash, we quite literally left the storm behind us.​

Having completed Devil's Racetrack without incident, I'd say we were both relieved, though there was still a voice in the back of my head, nagging about the conditions on Fixit Pass. My only real concern at this point was that we might have to retrace our steps, if for some reason we couldn't make it out the planned route. For now though, we enjoyed the smooth surface of the sandy wash, the skinny pedal seeing more use than it had all morning.

A golden glow all around us, I could drive through these sandstone rocks forever.​

We arrived at Slipper (Swayze's) Arch about 30 seconds after a group of UTVs approached from the other direction. Knowing there wasn't anything but Fixit Pass ahead of us, they confirmed that they'd come that way. Happy for some intel, I asked how they'd compare it to Devil's Racetrack. "About the same," was the response, which actually made me feel better, since the racetrack had been technical but hadn't really given us any trouble.

Slipper (Swayze's) Arch is so large that it is not best viewed from below. Perhaps a flying camera would do this arch more justice.​

Nearly to Fixit Pass, with new colors presenting themselves all the time.​

As we turned out of Coal Wash, the unfixed part of Fixit Pass presents itself immediately. Steep and a little rocky, my relief upon seeing it was palpable. This was most certainly not going to be an issue, and I actually felt a bit sorry for the UTV folks if they though Devil's Racetrack would be more of the same.

Beautiful, but not difficult.​

Compared to what we'd been through, and how I'd built up Fixit Pass in my mind, these football-sized rocks were a welcome surprise!​

Cresting the pass, the scenery changed again. Here, the trail jogged north, pointing us once again toward the storm that was passing overhead, the clouds adding a nice bit of drama to the much redder landscape in which we were now immersed.

Smooth sailing from here. Unless it starts to rain, I suppose!​

The clouds were looking nice over a cave in the bright yellow sandstone.​

A three-finger salute from the San Rafael Swell.​

Now about 50% of the way through our four-trail loop - and with it nearing 2:30pm - we pressed on. I was pretty sure that the rest of the route would be much quicker, but I didn't want to take any chances, and I still had a few more things on the day's itinerary - hopefully - when we were done.

A battle raged above us, between blue sky and gray clouds. The wind was blowing so hard that the situation seemed to change every few minutes.​

I have to say, with sun still streaming in under the darker clouds, things were looking nice in the Swell today.​

This mangled tree carcass had seen better days.​

Nature's amphitheater. I'd have loved to hike over to it - to gaze up at the water stains, to search for rock art - but we didn't have time today.​

In the distance, the conical Wickiup.​

Less than half an hour later we wrapped up our time on Fixit Pass, and transitioned to the Nielsen Dugway. It wasn't much of a transition - except for the name - as the trail difficulty and surroundings stayed pretty much the same. After a quick chat with the occupants of a couple UTVs - one of them cracked a rim somewhere on the trail, and they'd both neglected to bring a spare - to ensure that they had someone coming with a replacement, we tackled the last several miles to great delight.

Did I say great delight? I meant great sunlight.​

Even with the fantastic lighting, the highlight of the Nielsen Dugway was thanks entirely to my copilot, who - in some way I still can't figure out - spotted a trio of bighorn sheep more than half a mile away. To our delight, the road would take us directly under their position, and I hoped that our lower standing would give them confidence to refrain from running off.

What 'cha doing down there you guys?​

Sentinels of the San Rafael Swell.​

In no time, we neared the final ascent of the dugway back to our starting point at the Head of Sinbad and I-70. Yet again the ground under tire changed colors, and appeared to do so several more times before we were done!

So many colors.​

One dust does not match the other.​

Just as we were about to leave the Head of Sinbad behind, the sun came out one final time.​

Where the first quarter of the loop had taken us the better part of both the morning and early afternoon, the remaining three quarters of our route had flown by, leaving us plenty of time to head south - way south - to find camp near Temple Mountain. After, of course, we hunted for a few more pictographs.

Because you can never have too much rock art. Mostly. Sort of.

The loop I described here is a fantastic one that I feel showcased some of the best scenery that the San Rafael Swell has to offer. That said, I highly recommend running it - or at least running Devil's Racetrack - with two or more vehicles due to the difficulty of the terrain. Single vehicles can run the loop in the opposite direction, from Nielsen Dugway to Fixit Pass to Coal Wash, and then either return the way they came or continue north in Coal Wash to Ferron.

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Much to my disappointment, the BLM flattened fix-it a few years ago. Use to be much more fun.

 

Looks like a fun loop. Would love to do it someday.

 

Transformation Panel of the Ochre Alcove - Swell #4
Part of the Oh, So, (San Rafael) Swell (Apr 2022) trip.

We wrapped up the four-trail loop - from Devil's Racetrack to Coal Wash to Fixit Pass and finally along Nielsen Dugway (see More Than We Bargained For - Swell #3) - right around 3:45pm. With sunset slated for just before 8:00pm - oh, how I do enjoy the longer summer days - I figured we at least had enough time to head south towards our next destination. Depending on the roads, I hoped we also had time for another short hike or two!

And so, we passed back under I-70 from the Head of Sinbad, and rejoined Temple Mountain Road - the exit we'd taken earlier in the day. A well-graded gravel thoroughfare, we were back in the land of high desert, the mesas, pillars, and slickrock we'd enjoyed earlier in the day, now in our mirrors.

After slow, bumpy driving earlier in the day, it was refreshing to open up the throttle a bit on Temple Mountain Road.​

With some 30 miles to cover, @mrs.turbodb took full advantage of the smooth ride for a late afternoon snooze - a reasonable thing to do given the combination of dust kicked up by high winds and clouds overhead, reducing visibility to a few miles anyway. I stopped a few times along the way, but by 4:25, we were nearing our destination, and boy, did the landscape change again!

I may have flipped the truck around 180° for this shot, since the sky to the north - not to mention the buttes at the Head of Sinbad - were a bit nicer to look at than the monotony to our south! ​

Well then, hello Temple Mountain.​

Though I'd planned the drive on Temple Mountain Road, I hadn't really thought much about Temple Mountain itself. Looking back now, that was an obvious oversight - not so much for rock art, since the name of the mountain comes from its resemblance to modern-day temples in Salt Lake City - but because there are numerous mine workings in the area that would be fun to explore.

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On the flip side, given Temple Mountain's close proximity to UT-24, Goblin Valley, and several campgrounds in the immediate area, it was perhaps unsurprising that the area was seriously crowded with the RV/toy hauler/UTV crowd as we rolled by on a Saturday afternoon.

Our destination was a bit further south, along South Temple Wash - where we planned to camp for the evening - but we did make a quick stop along the south side of the mountain to check out an interesting rock art panel along Temple Mountain Wash.

The Temple Mountain Wash panel contains the largest known prehistoric painted figures in Utah.​

The 6-foot tall Barrier Canyon Style art.​

A Fremont anthropomorph and a small section of concentric circles. The level of disrespect to this figure has been high, his body riddled with bullet holes.​

As we pulled away from the panel, I found myself hoping - or perhaps more accurately, worried - that the incessant drone of UTVs and RV generators would extend towards our planned stopping point for the night. And, as we pulled up to the trailhead, my worries proved themselves out - while there wasn't a human in sight - they were all huddled away in their RVs as the 50mph winds howled by, the entire bluff above the wash as packed with RVs and UTVs, their generators droning away.

Clearly, we were going to need to find another plan for the evening.

After a quick conversation about what to do about camp - and no decision made - we decided to proceed with our planned hike to the Ochre Alcove since we still had a couple hours of daylight left.

This, it turns out, was a great decision! Despite all the people in the area, we saw no one - and very few footprints - as we crossed South Temple Wash and entered the sandstone slot canyon that led to the alcove. In fact, we'd see no one on the entire hike - a wonderful surprise given the number of people in the vicinity.

Just an unassuming break in the sandstone. Surely, there's nothing to see here. ​

Just walking up the narrow wash - the walls squeezing around tight bends - was a cool experience.​

Layers and layers.​

Nature's water slide.​

Eventually the narrows widened and we found ourselves in a beautiful gorge surrounded by towering walls of sandstone. To the east, the Ochre Alcove sat high on the cliff; to the west, the sun just peeked out over the edge.

Ochre Alcove sunstar.​

After a bit of scrambling and route-finding we made our way up to the alcove, the slickrock providing ample traction even on the steep terrain.

The main panel in the Ochre Alcove.​

Often referred to as the Transformation Panel, the pictographs here are a fantastic - one of the best, really - examples of Barrier Canyon Style images that we would see. We spent a bunch of time checking out the detail of all the figures, each section of the panel holding hidden treasures as we looked more closely.

Three of the larger figures. Two of them (center, right) have dots rising from their heads, and the other (left) has lightning bolts radiating from the hands and feet!​

The largest anthropomorph and the horned snake slithering towards it, a crowd gathered below.​

Closer views.​

Even with only a single panel, we probably spent a good 20 minutes in the alcove, enjoying ourselves. Eventually though, it was time to return the way we'd come, and figure out our plan for the evening, since there was no way we were going to camp in a sea of RVs at the mouth of the canyon.

Looking out from the Ochre Alcove as we were leaving, I wished we could just camp right here. No one around, the wind calm in the canyon as it howled by overhead.​

Back through the narrows.​

Upon climbing in the truck, I suggested that we only really had two options: we could continue along our route - retracing a few miles up past Temple Mountain, toward the following day's destination - or we could suck it up and suffer through the situation we current found ourselves in the middle of. It wasn't a choice, really, as neither of us were keen to make dinner in a blowing sandstorm, or sleep through a night of generator noise. And so, we set off in search of something better.

To both our surprise - I think - it didn't take us long to find what turned out to be a fabulous spot. With the westerly wind, we were in search of something that'd be sheltered from that direction, and of course be relatively private as well. I'd assumed that we'd have to travel a good hour or so to find something that fit that description - given the crowding around Temple Mountain - but within 15 minutes we spotted a spur road into a side canyon and decided to give it a look-see.

Surprisingly secluded. Plus, shielded from the storm.​

With no wind - and bellies suggesting that we should have eaten more at lunch - dinner was a quick affair. Assembled and consumed by 7:45pm, that gave me time to scramble up the hillside to our west to enjoy the final rays of light as they spread across the landscape.

Just as the sun was disappearing on the horizon, so were the clouds blown off to the east. Temple Mountain's colorful stripes gleamed under the blue sky.​

As seems to happen with some frequency, the winds died down significantly as the sun set. This, combined with our location, made for a very pleasant sleep, both of us dozing off by 9:00pm after reading just a few pages of on our Kindles.

The Following Morning...

Nestled low in a canyon, I knew there was no way I was going to catch sunrise, but I was up early anyway, hoping that another scramble might present some nice light on the surrounding hills. And, while some thin, high clouds blocked any orange-ing of the sky as the sun crested the horizon, they did allow for a nice purple hue to spread across the land, which was nice.

Nestled in the trees.​

Apparently, the wind hadn't died down overnight as much as we thought; it was a dusty morning to the east of the Swell.​

Baby chick rock.​

As usual, I waited until a few minutes after the official sunrise to whistle down to @mrs.turbodb that it was "getting up time," and within minutes, she had herself and the inside of the tent squared away so that I could do the teardown and stowage as she got started on breakfast. Efficient as ever, we were out of camp before 8:00am, both of us looking forward to the itinerary for the day.

Back on the plateau, the sky clearer to the southeast than the west.​

For the last several months - from November to March - we'd really only visited our winter haunt: Death Valley National Park. Neither of us would complain about that - well, except for the drive down and back - because there's always so much to do, see, and hike in that wonderful location. But, as we hopped from pictograph to petroglyph here in the Swell, I think we both missed - to an extent - finding and exploring a thing that seems extremely common on our trips to Death Valley: mine sites.

Today though, we were going to change that - we were headed to the Dirty Devil Uranium mine (amongst others, it would turn out) - and that had us both excited for something different.

We had no idea as we set off towards Red Canyon, but we were in for a real treat!​

Of course, as usual, I'm getting ahead of myself - our exploration of McKay Flat and Red Canyon will have to wait for the next story!

 

Dirty Devils and Black Dragons - Swell #5
Part of the Oh, So, (San Rafael) Swell (Apr 2022) trip.

Initially making our way northwest along Temple Mountain Road before turning southwest through McKay Flat, I was glad we'd found a spot to camp so close to Temple Mountain the previous evening. In so doing, we'd avoided driving into the setting sun and now had the blazing ball of fire at our back, illuminating the road before us.

With the sky clearing and sun shining, the buttes of the San Rafael Swell were out in their full glory.​

As we turned south toward McKay Flat, Family Butte rose colorfully to the west.​

A group of three wild horses were curious, but kept a wary eye on me as I circled to the sunny side for a photo.​

Where the roads most of the previous day had been slow going, McKay Flat was - for the most part - wide and smooth. Before we knew it, we were approaching the southern-most point of our loop, near Tomsich Butte, the huge monolith on the edge of Reds Canyon rising up before us as we approached.

A prominent landmark.​

As we reached the edge of McKay Flat, the road continued on, descending into Reds Canyon between the plateau and the Wingate Cliffs to the west.​

As we descended, a short spur led to an overlook that we both realized would have been a fabulous place to spend the previous evening.​

There's no wondering why this is called Reds Canyon.​

Following the road around Tomsich Butte, we got our first glimpse of the Hondu Arch. Located high in the Wingate Cliffs, this is the largest arch in the Swell, and one that I hope to hike to - starting from Mussentuchit Wash and approaching from the opposite direction - in the future!

The Hondu, towering above the landscape.​

Within a few hundred feet, we reached the reason we'd come all this way - though in retrospect, it seems to pale in comparison to the surroundings - the largest of the Dirty Devil Mines, the Hannert Mine. Set back into a fold of Tomsich Butte, its long ore chute still towers above the wash, though access to it from the nearby shafts has been eroded away.

A monstrous ore chute that once carried radioactive material carved out of the mountain.​

From the state of the ore bin, and the camp fire rings strewn around the site, this structure may not have much of a future. Not that I'd want to camp - and have a fire - at the base of a uranium mine!​

Uranium was first discovered on the southern slopes of Tomsich Butte in 1951 by W. J. Hannert and John Tomsich. Several mines - known collectively as the Dirty Devil Mines - were opened by the two men, and for a few years they were successful. However, by 1956 most of the high grade ore had been extracted - to the point that Tomsich committed suicide as his initial success turned to bitter disappointment. Mining below Tomsich Butte briefly picked up again in the 1970s but quickly faded given the lack of high-grade ore.

Located in the Mossback Member - one particular part of the Chinle Formation - the uranium that fueled these mines started as random deposits of ancient organic matter that were deposited during the Triassic Period (200 million years ago). When the area was flooded by an inland sea, the organic material acted as a reducing agent, causing concentrations of mineralized uranium to precipitate out of the seawater.

Access to the main shaft - and all shafts in the area - has been sealed off. Nature has also eroded the road that once led to the opening.​

Utah Abandoned Mine medallion.​

In the tailings pile, some old det(onation) cord. I wonder where it leads. ​

A look down the chute. Except for the whole radiation business, this would have been quite the view from the office.​

Having arrived a couple hours before the sun would really be in the right spot for some well-lit photos of the mine, we explored the site for a while, hoping - a futile endeavor - that a few minutes might be enough for the sun to move a good 45° in the sky! Of course, that wouldn't have been ideal for the rest of our day's plan, and before long we continued on our way toward (what we thought was) the end of the road at Muddy Creek.

Along the way, we ran across this dugout. As I've previously mentioned, I don't know why, but I'm a sucker for dugouts.​

At Muddy Creek, we had another spectacular view of Hondu Arch.​

Planning to turn back at this point, we noticed that the road seemed to continue around Tomsich Butte - and given that a loop is always more enjoyable than an out-and-back, we continued forward. The road itself didn't end up being all that interesting along the north side of the butte, but it did spit us out at a junction where we planned to turn north for a run up through Reds Canyon on our way back to the center of the Swell.

Old mining sites the world over have one thing in common: abandoned vehicles. Anyone need an engine?​

Perhaps an old pickup cab?​

With the sun still behind us, we headed north, the iron-rich soil and sheer walls of the Wingate formation rising up to our west. It was a spectacular trail to say the least, and it seemed that as we rounded each bend in the road, I found myself wanting to stop for more photos.

This is what I was expecting from the San Rafael Swell.​

Mineralized layers.​

Wingate Formation panorama.​

As we headed north, we made one - perhaps our only - navigational mistake of the trip. Reading about the area in a book that she'd downloaded for her Kindle - Hidden Treasures of Utah's San Rafael Swell - @mrs.turbodb assumed that a spur road I'd marked on the map wound up toward the Lucky Strike Mine. With an old cabin to coax us in, we soon found ourselves off the main route and walking around the base of an old ore bin - a sure sign that we were getting close to the Lucky Strike.

This old ore bin had seen better days, and like the Dirty Devil Mines to the south, its uranium mine shafts were sealed with a combination of rebar and concrete.​

Continuing to follow the road, we eventually found ourselves at the head of the canyon, but the cabin we were looking for had evaded us. No worries, there were a few spur roads, and we assumed that it must be along one of those, a bit higher on the hillside. It wasn't until nearly an hour later - still empty handed - we finally decided to cut our losses and give up the search.

Somehow the amazing views at the end of the canyon - which we'd gladly have come to see on their own - lost a bit of their flare as we struggled to find the cabin.​

Stone and wood.​

Not five minutes after exiting the canyon spur, we found ourselves passing another spur road. Leaning heavily into the brakes, we immediately realized our mistake as we looked at the GPS to see this one labelled as Lucky Strike Mine - we'd been in the wrong canyon!

More Reds Canyon glory.​

A cabin and two fridges at the Lucky Strike.​

A second cabin and loading ramp used to fill trucks with uranium rich material that would be transported to processors.​

In the end, we spent significantly less time at the Lucky Strike Mine than we had in our search for the same, just a mile or two south. Looking back now, I think I actually enjoyed the empty canyon - and it was definitely more visually appealing - than I did the one where we found what we were looking for.

Back on the Reds Canyon Road, now trying to make good time given the rest of what we had planned for the day.​

As we passed Family Butte it was just after noon - about the time I'd hoped to finish up the loop and head back to the north side of I-70 as we continued our adventure through the Swell.​

The remainder of the route - travelling the opposite direction on Temple Mountain Road than we'd done the previous afternoon - was a high-speed experience as we passed several of the RVs and toy-haulers making their way home from a weekend tearing up the roads and terrorizing the terrain in their UTVs. Before long we were headed east on I-70 for a few miles, descending much of the eastern flank of the Swell as we took an unmarked dirt road off the side of the highway and looped back under the pavement to enter Black Dragon Wash.

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At the head of Black Dragon Wash, the San Rafael Reef was looking strikingly similar one of my favorite geological formations: Comb Ridge.​

Having not yet eaten lunch, we decided that we'd push past a hike that I had planned in the area - to Spirit Arch and Petroglyph Canyon - and save them for after we visited the Black Dragon Pictograph Panel and filled our bellies. It was only a few miles to the parking area, and even stopping to enjoy a water-streaked sandstone bend in the wash we arrived within fifteen minutes.

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Nature's rock art.​

Did the striped walls draw in the Native American Indians in the same way it draws us in today? I'd like to think so.​

Pulling up to the panel just a few minutes after 1:00pm, I grabbed the camera as @mrs.turbodb grabbed the plates - a familiar prioritization of activities for the two of us, and one that seems to work well, since I'm the slower one when it comes to gazing at the images plastered on they rocky canvas. Plus, I can't really complain one bit when I hear our whistle and know that lunch is ready for consumption!

The Black Dragon looks remarkably red to me.​

Unique because of the unusual modernistic style, the Black Dragon looks so much like something out of a fantasy book that it is startling to realize it was painted centuries ago. Interestingly, this pictograph has - for the last couple decades - been the subject of a great deal of controversy. Creationists - who believe that the earth is less than 10,000 years old, interpret the image to be of a pterosaur, a winged reptile that went extinct some 66 million years ago. This, they say is proof that humans inhabited the earth at the same time as dinosaurs - in a much more recent time. Scientists, however, believe that the Black Dragon is an example of Barrier Canyon style of rock art, likely painted by the Archaic Peoples that lived in Utah some 2000 to 4000 years ago.

The roots of this controversy can be traced back to the late 1940s, when a man named John Simonson traced what he thought were the edges of the faint pictograph in chalk, thus revealing what appeared to be a winged monster. Recently, however, the painting has been studied using x-ray fluorescence technology, and it now appears that the winged monster is actually a compilation of five separate, more mundane images. Unfortunately, the technology still does not allow us to determine how old the painting is.

Hidden Treasures of Utah's San Rafael Swell​

A man and his (howling) dog.​

Howling at a sunstar.​

A second nearby panel with more traditional Barrier Canyon Style figures.​

Besides the BCS panels around the Black Dragon, there is a very long Fremont Style panel nearby. Its use seems to have been primarily for counting various things as there are thousands of marks, high up the canyon wall, which would have required a ladder for access.

Fremont ledger.​

Feather and lollipop detail.​

Arch detail.​

Necklace and hand detail.​

Not realizing that there was another - albeit more modern - panel a little further up Black Dragon Wash, we returned to the truck after enjoying these older panels and soon we were on our way back towards I-70 and the trailheads to Spirit Arch and Petroglyph Canyon. As we arrived, we noted a van that we'd seen earlier in the day as we'd arrived at the Black Dragon panel. Apparently, someone else had the same good idea we did!

It was nice to set off on foot after what had largely been a day of driving so far. And, as we worked our way along the trail, we soon rounded a corner with another great view of the San Rafael Reef.

San Rafael Reef anticline. The cool thing is that - since the entire San Rafael Swell is a bulge in the earth's surface, both sides of the formation angle up toward the center.​

Spring runoff.​

After about a mile, we reached the shared mouth of the two canyons we were after. With no real preference for which to investigate first, we simply chose the one on the right - to Spirit Arch - because we happened to be approaching from the right. You could say that we made the right decision.

I always love the anticipation that comes with entering a canyon like this. Somehow, the colors on the walls and the form of the sandstone are always so fascinating.​

To our surprise, we didn't see many spring flowers on this trip - but this cactus, getting an early start on his buddies, was definitely showing off!​

After winding our way up the canyon, we found eventually found Spirit Arch. Note the second arch just below the first.​

My favorite part of the hike to Spirit Arch was actually the water staining along the walls of the canyon.​

I think Spirit Arch was a little underwhelming for both of us, so we didn't spend long gazing up at it before we beelined it back to the convergence of canyons and headed up Petroglyph Canyon, hoping for something a bit more interesting. Almost immediately we were rewarded with a little bit more spring color - this time in the form of new growth on a Cottonwood tree.

Brilliant!​

A bit more walking and soon I spotted the panel for which the canyon was named. Not large, it was in great shape - the figures pecked into the darkly patinaed surface, as bright as could be.

I wasn't sure whether I should call this panel "Footprints" or "Echo."​

The left side of the panel with a sheep, man, and dog. I've never seen a panel before where the figures were trailed by footprints.​

The right side of the panel, an echo of the left.​

We didn't find any more noteworthy art in Petroglyph Canyon, but we did explore our way a little deeper into the reef to a - too narrow to navigate - slot canyon, and we also admired another display of water stains on sandstone where a spillway must have existed above.

Narrow passages and wide waterways.​

Eventually of course, it was time to go. We'd enjoyed this short stroll into the eastern edge of the Reef, and as with every other place we'd visited so far, I'm sure we only scratched the surface. With countless canyons and washes, this is a place we could wander the weeks away, poking our heads around corners and climbing our way up slickrock surfaces.

Headed back down the trail to the well-concealed Tacoma.​

For now though, we knew that there was plenty more to see before the day came to an end. And it was then - at the end of the day - that I hoped we'd find ourselves at the most dramatic camp site of the entire adventure. High over the Swell, looking down from the Wedge over Utah's Little Grand Canyon.

 

We visited this panel in Nov 20 during the pandemic. We noted the panel being high too but noted the modern vandalism. Then noted the rock below the panel wasn't weathered. It appeared the BLM (or somebody) removed the lower dirt so we dumb hoomans wouldn't further vandal the panel.

 

Some of the panels have been marked by holding candles up to them. In many caves for example, early visitors used candles to leave soot graffitti. Makes you wonder--the names on these panels are from an older time (or seem to be) but still glad some protection was afforded them.

 

Buckhorn Wash and The Wedge - Swell #6
Part of the Oh, So, (San Rafael) Swell (Apr 2022) trip.

Having modified our itinerary a bit to visit the Black Dragon Pictographs, we popped back onto I-70 and retraced a few miles of freeway through the fins of the San Rafael Reef to one of the more popular areas in the San Rafael Swell - Buckhorn Wash.

Hiking to the top of the fins seems like something that's in our future.​

Entering from the south - which seemed to be the less common way, given the 20-miles of gravel road to access the location - we made good time under an increasingly cloudy sky. Naturally, we stopped a few times along the way as views presented themselves, and once when we heard a thunderous clunking sound under the Tacoma. I knew immediately what it was - one of the D-rings on the front bumper had worked itself loose and fallen to the ground, hitting the skid plate along the way. Luckily, @mrs.turbodb spotted the pin after a bit of searching along the roadside, and we were back underway.

At the base of the cliffs runs the San Rafael River, and beyond that, we'd find ourselves winding our way through a maze of canyons.​

After crossing some 20 miles of flat desert, approaching Buckhorn Wash from the south is rather dramatic.​

A side view of Bottleneck Peak.​

While the main attraction of Buckhorn Wash was rock art - something we were definitely getting our fill of on this trip - our first stop was an old "swinging" bridge that hangs over the San Rafael River. The only suspension bridge remaining in Utah, it was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps between 1935 and 1937 using wood cut from the Manti-LaSal National Forest by Company 959.

The San Rafael River wasn't rushing when we were there, but apparently it was treacherous when the bridge was built, and can be a fun float when the water level is high enough today.​

Into the wash.​

Ten minutes after entering the canyon, we made our first stop - we'd reached the large Buckhorn Wash Pictograph Panel. Likely one of the most well-known panels in the San Rafael Swell, the 130-foot-long panel also contains a few petroglyphs - probably pecked into the sandstone by the Fremont People who lived in the area between 700 and 2000 years ago - but the most interesting renditions are the Barrier Canyon Style pictographs that were made by the Archaic People some 2000 to 4000 years ago.

Whip it! A classic example of Barrier Canyon Style figures with elongated bodies.​

Striking Snake.​

Jazz-hands, a Snake, and a Flute.​

Comb Under a Rainbow.​

Common Roots.​

Detail of the top of the Common Roots panel.​

Rain Angels.​

The Center Stage panel.​

This site has seen a lot of visitation over the years, as Buckhorn Wash was part of the Old Spanish Trail. Much of the damage done to the panel was done in the 1800s, before Theodore Roosevelt signed the 1906 Antiquities Act, but there's also plenty that's taken place since that time.

W.R. Stolworthy, Blackfoot, Idaho, 1938.​

From the main panel, it was a simple matter of meandering our way north. In and out of the truck on a regular basis, we explored panel after panel - some marked by roadside signage, others indicated by social trails leading away from road-side pull-outs. The key - as is often the case - is to keep an eye out and drive slowly, otherwise you're liable to miss something cool!

I can only imagine what it was like to travel this canyon thousands of years ago. Was there a similar sense of wonder and awe?​

A classic Fremont Style scene at Big Panel, with an emphasis on the animals that the Fremont People focused on in many of their carvings.​

Tug-o-War. I also thought it was interesting to see both evergreen and deciduous trees!​

Different renditions of sheep and deer, likely by different artists.​

I really liked texture of the rocky formation on which these sheep were pecked.​

From Big Panel, it was onto the nearby Black Panel, a much smaller work that seems to see less visitation than some of the more popular panels along the route.

Common elements overlooking Buckhorn Wash.​

Not far from the Black Panel sits the TKG Panel. Nestled high on the canyon wall, this one has two very cool petroglyphs, but has also been the recipient of quite a lot of vandalism. In fact, the name of the panel - TKG - stems from the moron who used a 50-caliber rifle to pound their initials into the panel from a distance.

Talk about the ultimate in disrespect. (TKG outlines enhanced for easier comprehension.)​

The most prominent figure at the TKG panel is the Bird Man who has a human arm on one side and a wing - encompassing a concentric circle - on the other. Closer inspection also reveals a less conspicuous trait - one human foot and one bird foot! I think this might be one of my favorite panels, if it wasn't for all the scratched marks of more recent visitors. :frown:

Bird Man.​

Sara and Anton Nielson visited in 1922... and violated the 1906 Antiquities Act.​

Figures drawn upside down are thought to represent death, so... Death by Scorpion.​

Nearing the northern end of Buckhorn Wash we only had a couple more stops on our agenda, and neither of them were petroglyphs! In fact, one was much older and the other much newer than the rock art we'd been enjoying along the rest of our journey.

First up was the live long and prosper symbol that Vulcan's left on the earth's surface when they first visited long ago. Or maybe a dinosaur track.

Spock was here.​

A circle of stones has been placed around the track to protect it from those wandering to find it.​

Our last stop was at the Morrison Knudsen (MK) Tunnels (wikipedia) (Cold War Tourist). Named for the United Stated Department of Defense (DoD) contractor that constructed them, there's not all that much to see at the site today - except for an information panel and a short hike to one of the tunnels that is relatively close to the road.

"Top secret" MK Tunnel.​

In 1948, when the DoD was looking for naturally occurring defenses from air-delivered explosives, the western flank of the San Rafael Swell became one of the testing grounds. Several horizontal shafts were created, after which varying amounts of explosives - ranging from 320lbs. to 320,000lbs. - were detonated at varying levels above them no fewer than 19 times. The relatively soft rock of the Navajo Sandstone probably didn't perform as well as the hard granite of Colorado where NORAD and other military facilities were ultimately located, and predictably, no military installations were developed here.

It would most definitely be interesting to see where the tunnel leads, given the nature of the experiment.​

And with that, our adventure through Buckhorn Wash came to an end. In fact, as it neared 6:00pm, so too were we nearing the end of our time in the San Rafael Swell. Our plan - as it were - was to loop around to The Wedge, where we'd enjoy a birds-eye view of the canyon through which we'd travelled, spend the night, and head north the following morning. That is, if we could find a spot to call home for the evening that wasn't too windy!

I have to say that as we looped south into The Wedge - designated as a special recreation area by copious signage - I started to get a bit nervous. Nearly all of the area is designated as day use only, and there are so many signs that alert visitors to camping in designated sites only that I found myself racing a bit to ensure that we stayed ahead of any vehicles that might be behind us on the road.

But before we could find a camp site, one thing was for certain - we were going to check out the Wedge Overlook of Utah's Little Grand Canyon. This was a spot that a fellow explorer - Randy Langstraat - had suggested to me as something that I really shouldn't miss when we visited the Swell, and given his preferences, I knew it would be spectacular.

I'd say that Little Grand Canyon is quite an apt description.​

More zoom.​

More more zoom.​

More more more zoom.​

In the end - as usually happens - everything worked out just fine. Even though there were several other folks who had the same idea we did, there turned out to be plenty of camping, and we were able to get a really nice spot right on the edge of the Wedge where we could air up the tires and fill up the tank for our trip north the next morning.

Our final camp site.​

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the clouds started to clear - just a bit - and it peeked through along the horizon, casting a really nice light over the Swell.​

Lenticular clouds suggested that there might be a bit of moisture on its way. We just hoped it held off until we got camp stowed the next morning.​

We decided that we'd change up dinner a bit on our final night, and rather than having our usual tacorittos, we broke out some Ramen (with additional fresh veggies) to heat up on the stove. Our thought was that in addition to being a nice change from a taste perspective, it would also be easy.

Let me tell you, it was not. Boiling the water - and keeping it hot - at 6300' turned out to be strangely difficult. In the end, my water was luke-warm and the noodles were overcooked, and we emptied the propane bottle while cooking @mrs.turbodb's, so hers came out crunchy!

You win some, you lose some, and at least our view helped to make up for the tribulations with dinner!

Sunset sunstar.​

The Following Morning...

Thankfully, no wind picked up overnight, rendering our spot at the head of the Wedge both calm and cool - the perfect way to snuggle into down comforters for a pleasant night sleep. Plus, the morning brought clear skies - though they wouldn't hang around all day - and more fantastic views out over the Little Grand Canyon. It most definitely was a great way to end our adventure.

Just a few steps away, a several-hundred-foot plunge made for the perfect morning views as color crept across the landscape.​

One of our final looks at the buttes of the San Rafael Swell.​

Soon, breakfast was made, and the tent was put away for the final time. After a final check of the tires and gas, we headed north - towards Castle Dale - to pavement and fuel that would send us in the direction of home. There, before us, the seemingly omnipresent towers of the PacifiCorp Hunter Coal Powerplant.

Looking north to Huntington, a second powerplant - also run by PacifiCorp - chugged away in the distance.​

A landmark from beginning to end of this trip.​

It'd been a great trip to the Swell, and it was still hard to believe that this was the first time we'd visited. The best part? We can always come back for more!

 

Rock Art Overload - Nine Mile Canyon
Part of the Rock Art Overload - Nine Mile Canyon (Apr 2022) trip.

I didn't discover Nine Mile Canyon in my own research. Rather, after posting a story of one of my trips to some fantastic place in the western United States, a reader - Tim - reached out to me to suggest a few places he'd discovered over his years of exploration.

At the top of his list was Nine Mile Canyon, and a photo he shared with me was enough to make me add it to my list without any further information. Under a blazing blue sky, a panel of petroglyphs overlooked a green valley surrounded by the patinaed red rock; this photo captured precisely what Utah is so well known for, it seemed to encompass everything I could hope for in a single image.

Tim's photo of a petroglyph panel in Nine Mile Canyon.​

That was nearly 18 months before we headed south. In that time, I'd compiled a plethora of information, and dozens of sites along the not-exactly-nine-mile-long route (it's more like 45 miles, but who's counting) to check out as we wound our way along the canyon floor.

Unlike some of my other trips, this isn't some crazy backcountry drive in the middle of nowhere - the entire trip can be had on paved roads if one pleases - but the sheer quantity of Native American Indian rock art is unbelievable.

​

It was mid-morning when we entered Nine Mile Canyon from the southwest near Wellington, Utah. Our plan for the next couple of days was to immerse ourselves completely in the dozens of waypoints I'd found along the route, ultimately exiting to the northeast via Franks Canyon Rd, Wrinkle Rd, and Sand Wash to Myton, Utah before heading home.

But - as often happens - we were easily sidetracked. Even before we got to the first rock art site, a (newer) old mine along the side of the road caught my attention and we stopped to take a look.

The Soldier Canyon Mine is currently inactive.​

Owned and operated by Canyon Fuel Company, LLC, prospecting at the Soldier Canyon Mine took place here as early 1906, though actual mining did not commence until 1935. The limited production from the mine was initially sold as home heating coal in Carbon and Emery counties. Over the years, production increased, reaching approximately 1.2 million tons per year before the mine was idled in 1999.

This ventilation fan was still spinning freely in the morning breeze.​

After a little more poking around than I think my cohort was comfortable with, we carried on our planned route, winding our way into the Book Cliffs and to the first of our galleries for the day. Sort of. I hesitate to say we were sidetracked - because then it would seem like I was just repeating myself - but we did make a couple additional stops before seeing our first panel.

Good to know we're in the right place.​

Most of the Nine Mile Canyon valley is privately owned and has been used for natural gas production and ranching for many, many years. As such, old cabins and corrals abound.​

Shortly thereafter, we did finally explore our first petroglyph panel - at Brundage Cove, tucked away behind a stand of pine trees along the side of the road. Poking around for 10 minutes, we'd soon realize that we'd spent about eight minutes too long if we wanted to see everything the canyon had to offer!

Long-necked sheep of Brundage Cove.​

From Brundage Cove, we were in-and-out of the Tacoma on a regular basis for the rest of the day. Describing our exploration at each panel would probably be the most boring story I've ever put together, so I'll mostly just share some of the more interesting - historically or personally - panels, along with a few little events that happened throughout the day.

Don't worry - if you were here for material to put you to sleep, I'm sure you can find something that meets your needs. If not in this story, then in another.

First Panel. Named because it's the first panel on some self-guided driving tours.​

Cottonwood Glen - now a day use picnic area - was once the home of George Carlos “Don” Johnstun. Settling here from Iowa in 1896, an old cabin, chimney, and well are still (barely) standing.​

Clearly the sheep in this area have gone extinct, or the giraffes have lost their horns.​

Cheerleader panel.​

A larger view of the Cheerleader panel, which also sported a long-necked sheep. Interestingly, we really only saw these longer necked sheep at the western end of the canyon.​

There were a few places along the route where we deviated from the meandering flow of Nine Mile Canyon Proper and found ourselves in a side canyon or wash for a particularly interesting bit of art. The first of these was at Sheep Canyon, where a couple-mile trek across a currently-inhabited cow pasture was the order of the day. Luckily for us, it turns out that I'm a cow-whisperer, able to shoosh the terrifying beasts with a lowly rumbled "mooooooove" command.

The pictograph panel in Sheep Canyon was one of the cooler panels we'd see, as it was well sheltered and well framed. This artist must have been an experienced one!​

Also in Sheep Canyon, a petroglyph panel with several interesting elements. Sheep watching a father-son thumb war, and a rancher's initials from 1818.​

Making our way into - and here, back out of - Sheep Canyon required a little bridge building and Olympic-level balance beam work.​

Back at the Tacoma, we were both getting hungry, so we decided that at the next good pull out we'd have lunch. I quickly revised that plan - after realizing there were pullouts every 100 feet or so - and suggested that we hold off until we reached a panel that I'd been looking forward to seeing more than any other in the canyon: Coyote Places the Stars.

(very ) Happy man leading a horse.​

This was a very cool Ute panel of a man leading a horse under a tree. The pronghorn at the bottom, and bird at the left were likely added later, by a rancher/cowboy.​

Balanced Rock.​

As expected, a balanced rock attracted artists. I especially like the walking-chicken-man-with-a-long-tail in the middle of this panel, though the juggler to the left is probably more prominent.​

A large snake dominated this well-patinaed panel.​

Just before reaching our lunch spot for the day, we rounded the corner to the Winn Ranch. Like so much else in the canyon, it has been abandoned over the years, but it was obviously quite elaborate when it was in full swing. The rock house was well built, and there were several outbuildings along both sides of the road.

Winn Ranch rock house.​

Toll of time inside the rock house.​

View out of the bedroom.​

Shortly after leaving the ranch, we arrived at Coyote Places the Stars. Well, we arrived at the viewing location anyway. I had mixed emotions when I discovered that the actual panel was several hundred feet up the side of the canyon, and reasonably inaccessible. On the one hand, this was good because it meant that it was protected from the grubby mitts and bullets of those who so often deface these cool bits of history. On the other, it meant that - given our timeframe - I wasn't going to get to hike up and around the 2 mile trail - to check out the panel more closely.

My favorite panel - Coyote Places the Stars.​

One legend has it that the Coyote liked to impress the girls by juggling his eyeballs. One day he threw one so high that it stuck in the sky to form the star Arcturus.

According to another Hopi creation myth, Old Spider Woman provides Coyote with a sack filled with stars. After climbing to the top of a mountain he begins to distribute them neatly in the heavens, creating the well-known constellations. Soon, he grows tired of this work and picks up the bag to throw its contents into the sky. This is the reason why many of the stars are not arranged in an orderly fashion.

Coyote from a slightly different angle.​

Nearby Coyote Places the Stars is the Four Kings (sometimes called Five Warriors as there is a fifth figure below these four) pictograph panel.​

After visiting the Coyote and eating an enjoyable - but windy - lunch, it was time for another short hike up a side wash on the north side of the road. We were in search of owls, which I thought would be really cool, since I've never seen an owl as a petroglyph before.

The Owl Panel.​

Close up of the three owls.​

The Owl Panel had two other interesting elements: my favorite as this really cool bear claw; the other was that all the human figures had (male or female) genitalia.​

As we walked back from the Owl Panel, I glanced out into the valley and had a flash in my mind of Tim's photo that got me started on the idea of coming here to Nine Mile Canyon. Even as I look back through the panels that I photographed for the trip, I don't know exactly where he took his picture, but this one still reminds me of it.

Dramatic skies over brilliant green grass.​

This panel had two cool birds at the top that we really liked.​

I don't know what it is about this panel, but for some reason I really like the pattern of the dots on the right.​

Pictographs are less common in Nine Mile Canyon, and this one used two colors of pigment.​

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Another panel. The head outline on the left reminded me of the heads at the Sand Island Petroglyphs that we'd visited on our way to the New Mexico BDR.​

Of course, the rock art wasn't the only thing we were enjoying as we descended through Nine Mile Canyon. The canyon itself is quite beautiful, and I can imagine that if we'd come through a few weeks later - or in early summer - when everything was blooming and green, it would have been even more spectacular!

A leisurely drive through a lavish canyon.​

Were the rectangles created to keep kids drawing within their lines? If so, it seems they simply chose to go elsewhere to chip into the rock; not much here!​

High on the cliff, a nearly inaccessible granary still has some of the wood framing - perhaps from the roof - intact.​

The Fremont and Ute were not the only ones to leave their mark in this canyon. Axle grease was the favorite pigment of later travelers like Myron Russell.​

Two-thirds of the way through the canyon is Rassmussen's Cave. The cave - which was excavated in the 1930s - contained many artifacts in addition to the rock art on the cave walls and the metates (worn areas in the rock where corn was ground). Rassmussen's Cave is also home to the famous "No Tresspassing" graffiti which is used in many brochures and pamphlets as an example of how not to treat rock art sites. Apparently, the landowner became frustrated with visitors trespassing on his land in the 1980s that he enrolled the help of local boy scouts to go to the cave and write "Keep Out" and "No Trespassing." Not realizing where they would write the warnings - or that they would misspell trespassing - he didn't accompany them and was a bit surprised at the result. Today, after a land trade with the owner, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) now owns this property.

Good work Boy Scouts. So glad to be associated with your organization.​

Some more nice antlered men in the back of the cave.​

Nearby, the first buffalo that we found along the canyon was in a small alcove.​

Relatively near Rassmussen's Cave is Daddy Canyon. There are tons of great panels in and around this canyon, and a mile-and-a-half hike is all that's necessary to see them all. We started in the corrals at the western mouth of the canyon and followed the loop clockwise, wrapping up the rock art extravaganza about a quarter mile east, down the paved Nine Mile Canyon Road from the parking area.

Sheep and sheep-men.​

I'm not usually a fan of panels with tons of figures layered on top of each other, but for some reason, I like the crowded nature of this panel.​

Some huge buffalo, which rival the buffalo we'd see later at the Buffalo Panel!​

Daddy Canyon was a great place to walk through, just to admire the towering walls.​

A hunter panel.​

This very interesting pictograph panel has one red and one green buffalo. It was the only pictograph buffalo we found.​

Hunting log. How many deer have we seen? Or maybe killed? 98. So close to 100!​

This panel has so many elements - water, rainbow, sheep, counting. rivers, snakes, Kokopelli Man.​

Man with a Hawk (on His Head).

Perhaps my second favorite panel next to Coyote Places the Stars.​

Another great sheep panel.​

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We weren't exactly sure what this panel was about, but it reminds me of the sundial petroglyphs that I've seen in the Volcanic Tablelands, so these likely have to do with the phases of the sun and moon.​

By the time we wrapped up our hike in Daddy Canyon, it was about 3:30pm I think it's safe to say that we were both entering that point that I suppose I always knew existed, but hadn't ever really experienced myself - rock art overload. We were to the point where - at some of the panels along the side of the road - we'd peer at them out the windows of the Tacoma and declare "panel achieved."

There were two more major sites along the route - that we knew of at the time - so we pulled up our big kid pants and set off on foot for the first of them - the Big Buffalo Panel.

The Big Buffalo at what turned out to be a pair of buffalo panels. This one was about four feet long.​

The other buffalo was the only one I've ever seen with a baby buffalo in its womb, so we'll call this the Baby Buffalo Panel.​

Near the Baby Buffalo Panel, several colorful pictographs decorated the stone face.​

And with that, we headed to the final - and perhaps most widely known - panel on our planned itinerary. This one - located in Cottonwood Canyon - has been recognized as a nationally significant and has used in publications around the globe.

The Great Hunt.​

Known as The Great Hunt Panel, this is an incredible display of Fremont petroglyphs. One theory about this panel is that the horned, anthropomorphic figure at the top center represents a hunt shaman. Around the shaman, is a herd of bighorn sheep during a migration; the lines connecting all of the sheep, representing a common ancestry.

Retracing our steps out of Cottonwood Canyon, we rejoined the Nine Mile Canyon Road, which from this point on was unpaved due to low(er) levels of traffic.​

Meticulous stone work.​

Spirals and snakes.​

A small panel with a wavy line through it.​

As we were slowing making our way east, we ran into a fellow explorer who we know only as Dana, for - as I introduced myself - he mentioned that I was just "missing an 'a'." Dana's been visiting this area for more than 40 years, and he wanted to make sure that we'd stop at the Family Panel on our way out of the canyon. We hadn't known of any panel by that name - though when we arrived, we realized it was already on our list of waypoints - but thanked him profusely as we left him to his hunt for panels he'd never before seen.

The Family Panel, @mrs.turbodb's favorite of the canyon.​

The Spiral Horned-Snake Panel isn't far away from the Family Panel. Careful, family!​

The views around us continued to impress.​

I couldn't resist a photo of my roaming gnome in its natural environment.​

We spotted a number of anthropomorphic figures with triangle-shaped (or maybe hourglass) torsos as our final panel of the canyon.​

And with that, we'd completed our whirlwind tour of the most densely packed rock art we've ever encountered. It was overwhelming, really, and something I'd recommend spreading out over more than one trip - just to keep yourself sane. Even having seen more than five dozen panels, there are surely hundreds more that we missed - tucked behind trees, high on the canyon walls, or just a little further up a side canyon than we ventured.

On our way out.​

From Nine Mile Canyon we needed to find a way to the top of the Tavaputs Plateau on our way to Myton, UT, and Franks Canyon Road seemed to be the perfect answer to the question of how to gain elevation. After winding our way up the wash for a few miles, we found ourselves in a warm, dusty - and perhaps foggy - abyss as Winkle Road worked its way east toward Sand Wash.

It was the strangest feeling to drive across the plateau with temperatures in the 70s °F, and yet the appearance of fog, but what was - I think - blown dust.​

Both of us once again hungry, we found a spur that overlooked the deep canyon to our south and broke out the kitchen for a quick meal. Having learned our lesson on the last trip, this time we skipped the Ramen Noodles, opting instead for our staple: taco-rritos. Full of guacamole, of course.

A meal with a view is always more pleasant.​

As @mrs.turbodb set up the camp kitchen, I snapped a couple photos of the eerie environment.​

It almost looked as though it was snowing...​

Eating dinner, it was time to make a plan for the evening. Our options were obvious - look for a place to camp, or make the 1000-mile push towards home. A quick check of the weather forecast suggested that - even though it was currently a balmy 67°F - our present location would see snow around 10:00pm that evening; with that, the decision was made.

​

Headed along Sand Wash Road towards Myton, there were oil derricks everywhere!​

It was only just a bit after 6:00pm - and we were a few miles from Myton - when the snow started. Significantly ahead of schedule, it'd snow on us all the way from Utah to Washington, making our already long trip home, that much longer.

But you know what? I'm ready for the next trip!

 

Absolutely in awe of your ability to document both visually and in text what you experience and share it with us. I attempted to do it once in a long (30day) motorcycle trip... Lost motivation about 20 days into it... The stopping for photos, the notes, everything that is overlooked in creating such great stories... I just couldn't keep it up. I really wish I had because the vividness of the memories are already starting to fade, and it's only been 10 years.


I also just picked up some yellow SS5's for my rig, (also already had the SS3pro fogs and LOVE THEM) did you ever test them out with the yellow lenses? I picked up some SS3 max driving for my dutch lights(they'll be angled out to supplement my high beams). Really love diode dynamics lights(also really struggle with not being able to see ).

 

Thanks! I have to admit that it is a lot of work to document trips - not so much during, since I love getting out and taking photos and enjoying where I am (I find that stopping all the time and looking at things you're passing really helps to "be in the moment," which I enjoy) - but after the trip, photo processing and writing can sometimes be a slog.

For me, the 3-day (4 night), trips are the best, because I can write those in 3 parts and only have ~200 photos to process once I've whittled out the ones I don't like. Longer trips can feel overwhelming both when I'm writing as well as when I'm posting - I feel like people will get "bored" reading about the same trip over the course of a couple weeks.

But going back and reading the stories is something I find myself enjoying already, and I know my family really loves them, since it gives them some insight into what I'm doing, so I hope I can keep it up for a while...

For the SS5s - I never tried the yellow lenses, mostly because I was going from clear Hella lenses to the SS5s, and I was already worried about that transition (in retrospect, I had no reason to be, the SS5s are so clearly a leap - or several - ahead). Also, I wanted as much throw as possible - that was the point of these lights - and I know the clear lenses allow for a bit more distance. I thought about putting my yellow lenses on after the fact, but since I got a different lens pattern on those (driving or combo - I forget) as opposed to clear spots, it wouldn't be a fair comparison anyway. So yeah, that's my story on that one.

They are fantastic lights, and I'm super happy to have them.

 

I think the collected stories paint an amazing picture about an area and quite possibly, inspire others to visit. And if they cannot, hopefully, they gain a deeper understanding of what makes places important.

 

Shop Day at Zane's - Timing Belt and Clutch Replacement

I guess you can say that I'm a little gun-shy after having two trips to Death Valley cut short due to mechanical issues. The first one - when my transfer case started making noise - was a surprise, but the second trip - when the main leaf of my leaf pack broke - was something I could have easily avoided with preventative maintenance.

And so, I think it's time to stop putting off a bit more preventative maintenance work that I've been procrastinating: changing my timing belt (and the other associated components) and replacing my clutch.

I've done the timing belt work before, so there wasn't anything all that intimidating about the job, but I've been procrastinating because of the weather. That's meant that I missed my 100K mile interval - I'm now up to 128K miles on the current components - but I've been telling myself that it's OK since the actual age of the components is a bit under four years.

Of course, I played the same game with the leaf springs - waiting to replace them until I replaced my rear axle housing - so I know this is not really a valid approach.

Unlike the timing belt, I've never replaced my clutch before. With 218K miles on the truck, I knew I was probably approaching the service life of the original. And, while I knew I didn't have to worry about getting stranded by my clutch - since it'd start showing signs of wear as opposed to failing catastrophically - I realized that I'd much rather replace it at my leisure and with the help of some buddies, rather than feel rushed when it started to slip on some trip.

And so, it was time for a shop day. Lucky for me, Zane had just moved into a new house with a fabulous shop, and he graciously accepted after I invited myself to visit. Excited that we might turn it into a bit of a get together, I invited Ben @m3bassman, Mike @Digiratus, and Monte @Blackdawg as well. Stupidly, I forgot Dan @drr, but luckily Mike forwarded on the invitation.

I may have procrastinated the actual wrenching, but I sure seemed to excel at inviting a bunch of dudes to Zane's place! (thanks again Zane!)

Unfortunately, Monte and Dan were unable to attend, but the rest of us worked out the dates - a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday - when all the work would get done, and I started gathering parts. The plan was to do a different job each day - assuming each would take a day - though Zane assured me that I was allocating too much time! Still, the work I wanted to achieve was:

• Friday - Timing Belt Day
• Saturday - Clutch Replacement
• Sunday - Rear Axle Housing Replacement

Friday - Timing Belt Day

Friday rolled around and I set off for Zane's early. I wanted to arrive by 8:00am so I could get started on the timing belt while he and Ben were at work, and while Mike was still making his way to eastern Washington. To prep for the job, I'd purchased another 100% OEM Parts Timing Belt Kit from aircabinman on eBay, knowing that the parts I'd gotten from him the last time - and that many other of my friends have used - were genuine and high quality. I'd also rounded up all of the tools and special service tools (SSTs) that I'd used the previous go around and packed those into the Tacoma.

All the parts I'd be replacing, conveniently provided in a high-quality kit.​

For a full list of the parts, tools, and SSTs - as well as a step-by-step guide on replacing the timing belt, water pump, thermostat, drive belts, idler pullies, and seals - this page has links and photos for everything you'll need: Step by Step Toyota Tacoma Timing Belt Replacement for 3.4L V6 5VZFE (also 4runner, Tundra, and T100)

​

The SSTs needed for the job.​

As I pulled into Zane's shop, I was blown away. Jealous, really, of all the space he had to work. Thankful too though - that he was nice enough to have me (us) over, invading his space, for a full weekend. I set about unloading and getting ready for the job.

What a space! Even with the garage door closed, there was room to move around and work!​

All the stuff I'd brought along for three days of fun.​

I set about working through my Step by Step Toyota Tacoma Timing Belt Replacement guide, draining the radiator, unbolting fasteners, and setting parts aside as I made my way toward the timing belt itself. Having done it before, and working by myself, this was a relatively boring straightforward process, but there were a few things that went differently than the first time I'd performed this service.

The first was the removal of the crank pulley from the crankshaft. Last time, it had just slide right off, but this time it wasn't budging. Luckily Zane had two (2), 100mm long M8x1.25 bolts that I used with my OTC 4518 puller to work the pullies off.

When reinstalling these pullies, I used a bit of antiseize to ensure easy removal in the future.​

The second change was to a part of the process that had troubled me the first time - installation of the camshaft seals. I'd prepped this time by getting extra seals, but as I started to push the first seal into place, I ran into the same problem - the seals starting to bulge.

This tool is problematic for camshaft seals. I don't recommend using it.​

Initially, I figured I'd just keep pressing the seal in, but in an unusual twist, I took a step back and reevaluated the situation. After giving it a bit of thought, I figured I might was well try tapping the seal in the more traditional way - tapping around the circumference with a brass punch. It worked splendidly!

From that point on, it was mostly just reassembly of the things I'd already removed, and some way through that process I got a nice break when Mike showed up in the driveway. Or at least, I think it was Mike; it might have been Zane. At any rate, someone showed up, and soon everyone was hopping around the shop. With such good company, the entire afternoon was much more enjoyable!

The new timing belt went on without a hitch, since I knew the routing trick from the previous time.​

I don't know what time it was exactly when I wrapped up the job, but it was something around 8:00pm when I started the last step - filling up the radiator with new coolant. Once again, I'd lucked out - I'd forgotten my Toyota Red Coolant Concentrate at home - but Mike had been able to bring some along, keeping me from re-using what I'd drained earlier in the morning!

This no-spill funnel is one of the best tools ever!​

The job done, it was time to relax. Mike had brought along his propane fire ring, which we promptly deployed in the center of four camp chairs that materialized as pizza arrived. As usual, we chatted late(ish) into the night, about this, that, and the other, before heading off to our respective sleeping areas - mine being the tent, which I'd deployed in Zane's driveway.

Saturday - Clutch Replacement

It was just below 30°F overnight. Under down comforters and with earplugs in, I got a great night sleep, and was ready to go the following morning when everyone climbed out of bed and the day got underway. Today, we'd be working on my clutch. It was a job that Zane suggested - to my disbelief - would only take us a few hours. Technically - in that a few is more than two and less than ten - this would be true, but we'd be a lot closer to ten, than two!

To prep for the job, I'd picked up all the necessary parts:

• A Marlin Crawler 1,200lb Heavy Duty Clutch Kit. This kit came highly recommended by everyone I talked to, and while it is often out of stock at Marlin, I signed up for notifications when it came in stock and jumped on the kit when I got an email notification. It contains:
  • Seco clutch disc with a robust double-spring design, excellent heat and wear resistance, and circumferential grooves & nickel coated splines
  • Aisin 1,200 ft-lb heavy duty clutch cover/pressure plate with a heat treated diaphragm spring, smooth pedal pressure for those long days on the trail, and a high torque rating for a sure engagement every time.
  • A new pilot bearing
  • A new throwout/release bearing
  • A clutch disc alignment tool
• A Marlin Crawler Heavy Duty Shifter Seat & Socket - to replace the shifter seats for the transmission and transfer case shifters, since they had to be removed anyway.
• A new Rear Main Seal (90311-A0027) - not strictly necessary, but if the transmission is being separated from the engine anyway, now's a good time to replace the rear main engine seal.
• A new Toyota OEM Clutch Flywheel (13405-62030) - because whenever you replace the clutch, you should resurface or replace the flywheel. Since I didn't want the hassle of resurfacing in the middle of the job on a weekend, I bought a second flywheel, and well resurface my original for the next time I have to install a clutch.

For a full list of the parts, tools, and SSTs - as well as a step-by-step guide on replacing the clutch and associated components - this page has links and photos for everything you'll need: Step-by-Step Replacing the Clutch on a 1st Gen Tacoma (or 3rd gen 4Runner)

​

A comparison of the old and new parts for a clutch job.​

Working on the clutch was a ton of fun - at least, for me - since we all set about doing various bits of the job in order to make the whole thing take "a few hours." Starter removal, electrical harness disconnection, removing the shifters from the interior of the truck - Zane's shop was hoppin!

I took care of the work inside the cab, while everyone else was working outside.​

Not too many tools strewn across the floor, yet!​

Ultimately, there were only a few things that held us up for any amount of time, but they were doozies. First, was accessing the six, 17mm bolts that secure the transmission bellhousing to the engine. The top two of these are a real bear to remove, but after what felt like a struggle, we got all the right wobbles and extensions onto the ratchet in order to access them.

You know, just your standard, 40" long extension.​

Make sure to keep these in order, they aren't all the same length!​

The second - and by far largest - roadblock was the removal of the crossmember that supports the transmission and transfer case. Secured by four, 14mm bolts, we thought this would be an easy task. At first, it was - the two outer bolts came out as though they were brand new. Unfortunately, the two inner bolts did not. These are the two bolts that the @RelentlessFabrication mid-skid mounts to.

​

I've had trouble with this mounting location - with the 3/16" steel ears of the skid plate breaking off a few times until I finally found a different mounting mechanism.​

I think having the skid mounted to these bolts allowed water to penetrate the space between the bolts and sleeves of the crossmember, hopelessly rusting them into place. Zane and I ended up spending the better part of two hours with an air hammer, torch, and plenty of penetrating oil before we were finally able to work them out. Then, we drilled out the remaining rust and slathered on plenty of antiseize before reinstallation!

Neither of us could believe that the air hammer didn't just pound these puppies out!​

Yeah, a bit of corrosion.​

Drilling out the sleeves on the crossmember.​

With everything apart, we were well into our "few hours," but we finally got a look at the original, 218K mile clutch disc. "Looks like you've still got about a third of the life left," said Zane. Which of course mean that I probably didn't need to do this at all.

Still, I was glad I did, since now I don't have to worry about the clutch at all.

Even with much of the day behind us, we didn't let that stop us from pushing forward - hoping it would be mostly clear sailing from here. For the most part, it was. Like disassembly, there were two exceptions.

First, was a mistake - or maybe just lack of knowledge - on my part. I got the new flywheel installed, the clutch disc inserted with the special alignment tool provided by Marlin Crawler, and the pressure plate torqued down to spec in record time. At which point, we realized that the clutch disc wasn't perfectly centered in the pressure plate. I'd assumed the special tool would do a better job than it had, so I backed everything off and centered the clutch disc. Just as I finished torquing to spec, Zane asked if I'd used any brake cleaner on the pressure plate.



Once again, I backed everything off, cleaned the pressure plate, and for the third time, torqued everything to spec using the crazy modified-star torque pattern specified by the FSM.

Forty-five minutes instead of fifteen, but hey, I've got plenty of experience for next time.​

The second issue was predictable for anyone who's done this job in the past. This time, Ben was helping to get the six, 17mm bellhousing bolts all lined up and started as we mated the transmission and engine back together. If I'd thought the separation was hard - well, then this was certainly a test of patience!

The transmission must have been on the jack for more than an hour as we fiddled it around to get everything lined up. The biggest problem - the only problem, really - was getting our hands into the tight spaces above the transmission for the top two bolts - and then getting a socket on them to torque them to spec!​

Ultimately, it was close to 9:00pm when we wrapped up work on the clutch. It'd been a long day, and one that I'd been extremely glad to have three good friends around to help. From hands-on wrenching to muddling through problems, it made the job a lot less stressful - and a lot more fun - for me, having those guys around.

Dinner and more chit chat followed, but unlike the previous evening, we were all just a bit more tired, and by 11:00pm, we were headed to bed!

Sunday - Rear Axle Housing Replacement (...or not)

Well, Sunday morning rolled around a lot like Saturday - but with one major difference: we're all getting older. That of course means that we were sore from rolling around under the truck for 10 hours the previous day, and that none of us were all that keen to do it again.

So, we didn't!

After a bit of discussion, we decided that there wasn't any real rush to replace the rear axle housing - my patch had been working just fine and wasn't showing any signs of fatigue - so, we lazied around a bit and chatted some more. I spent a bunch of time putting away all the tools we'd spread out across the floor. I whined about the fact that I'd have so much less room when I got back home.

I'd say it was right around noon when Ben, Mike, and I bid farewell to Zane, each of us headed home at our own pace and in our own directions. It'd been a fabulous weekend, and I felt great about the work we'd accomplished.

Thanks guys!
@Speedytech7, @Digiratus, @m3bassman​

 

How is the new clutch feeling? Gotten used to it?

 

I have gotten more used to it. Here are my impressions so far...

• It's got a very light feel - at least compared to the original OEM clutch. Where the original engaged in the lower half of the pedal throw and took - let's just say for argument - 20lbs of force to push down, the new clutch engages in the upper half of the pedal throw and takes 10lbs of force. I don't know that the forces are correct, except for their relative nature - it's about half the pressure. So, for those two aspects:
  • At first I didn't like the lighter feel at all, but now I'm starting to like it as it's easier on my leg. Go figure.
  • I still don't really like the engagement position, but I only really notice it when trying to do something where I'm feathering into the clutch - like climbing a ledge in 4Lo. I'm sure I'll get used to it over time, but it was nice previously to be able to push the clutch to the floor, and then have engagement happen quickly on the way back out.
• Grab - like the force needed to depress the clutch, the grab feels light. I don't have any slippage or anything once it's engaged, so it's gotta be working correctly, but it doesn't have the same "grab and stick" feel that I felt like existed on the OEM clutch.

Also, I was worried for about 3 weeks after the install that one of the bearings (throwout or pilot) was no good b/c I heard a squealing. The frequency would vary with RPMs, and definitely changed when going from in-gear to out-of-gear. Strangely, it also frequently changed when my batteries were linked or unlinked via the ML-ACR. I was worried I was going to have to pull everything apart to swap out the bearings.

But then, I realized that the problem could actually be something else entirely - the new belts I installed as part of doing the timing belt. Having the alternator belt too tight could have led to some squealing from the alt bearing, for instance. Anyway, I realized this on my second trip after doing all the work, and was going to re-check tensions when I got home. But, by the time I got home from the second trip, the noise was gone. ...likely for exactly the reason I suspected - it was due to new, tight belts in the engine bay, and I just thought they were coming from the clutch b/c that's where we'd done the work and I hadn't had any issue with belts the first time I did the timing belt.

So anyway, I'm generally quite happy at this point. Mostly I'm happy to have learned how to do the job, and to have had you guys there for help and reassurance, since apparently I didn't really need a new clutch!

 

Ha, that reminds me of doing the clutch on my '92 pickup years ago. I could not for the life of me get a wrench on those top bell housing bolts. I eventually called my mechanic friend, and he told me to go buy 2 of the longest extensions that Sears sells, and a wobble. Plus, put a jack under the front of the engine and jack it up a little. It was ridiculously long, but that did the trick!

And yes, getting that dang thing back on and lined up was the worst.

 

I'd urge you not to use that belt tension gauge and just do it the old fashioned way by hand, killing bearings with over tight belts is much more expensive than just tightening the belt again. Only time I've needed a belt tension gauge is on the drive belt of my Harley... which makes sense given the extreme forces and it being a cogged belt.

 

It was a fun time.

 

There's something in our brains that the more muscle it takes the better it is going to grab and hold, yet I don't think that's always the truth with what is going on down in the case of metal. I'll bet it's fine for another 200k, hopefully the rest of the truck is too!

 

Yeah, the muscle and grab aren't things I'm concerned with at all. I just liked being able to "pivot on my planted heal" for clutch engagement with the original. Now, the engagement point is high enough that my heal is off the floor. At least, until I get used to it and "readjust" my heal position through the entire throw of the pedal, I suppose.


OK, I have a question about the clutch disk. Specifically, this photo:

​

I hadn't really noticed it, but someone pointed out to me that the springs on the Seco are much longer than on the OEM clutch disk, and that longer springs could be more of a liability than shorter springs. I'm not all that worried about it since the Seco disk in the Marlin kit seems so highly regarded, but I'm curious - for those who know more than me:

1. What does the spring length "control" or "affect"? i.e. why different length springs?
2. Is a longer or shorter spring more prone to failure?
3. What happens if a spring fails?

@Speedytech7