More Travels 4-Island in the Sky

High on an Island in the Sky

Saturday morning in Moab, Utah, there are bikes everywhere--along Main Street, in the bike lane next to the highway, on the backs of camper vans, on the tops of automobiles. And at 66 degrees at 8:30 a.m. with bright sun, it's perfect biking weather. We headed towards Canyonlands for another day at Island in the Sky. Only we'd be walking, not biking.
In May of 1869, Major John Wesley Powell set out with nine men to explore the Colorado and Green River systems. He wrote in his journal, "What will we find?"

From Green River Overlook visitors see the cutting action
of the Green River as it meanders across the Colorado Plateau.

As we looked out from Green River Overlook at 9:30 a.m., we knew our perch was one of the sights he saw from below so many and yet not so many years ago. In the far distance we could see the candy-striped rocks of The Mesa. Down below us the Green River wound between red canyons. And off to our right the Henry Mountains, one of the last explored ranges in the U.S., rose dark in silhouette. Andy said, "I think a remnant buffalo herd lives there, one of the only remnant herds in the country."

Climbing along the white sandstone
ridges of Aztec Butte, we follow
the footsteps of ancient people.

Ancient pueblo people scrambled up and down Aztec Butte to store their grain in the protected caves of the sandstone cliff. These granaries, out of reach of animals and high enough to protect the caves from flooding, were near the small dry-land fields of the Anasazi and half a mile from the living quarters. We climbed around the small storage areas on the sloping rock ledge, trying to imagine how they could maneuver in such tight quarters.

Well protected under the sandstone
cliff, Anasazi granaries remain intact.

From the top of Whale Rock, we could see in every direction.

Whale Rock, a huge sandstone butte,
offers a fun climbing challenge for kids.

Just outside of Upheaval Dome, we took the half-mile, one-way trail to the top of Whale Rock. From the butte we had a 360-degree view of the entire area. Now high dessert, it must have been rich country once.

Upheaval Dome from Midpoint
Overlook on the inside
shows the vastness of the crater.

But the climb was nothing compared to the climbs to the Midpoint, the second Overlook at 5,760 feet, and the First Overlook at Upheaval Dome. Every bend offered a different picture, but the mile-long, one-way primitive trail was so steep and in places so rubble-covered, that it was more important to step carefully and keep up with the leader than to stop and take pictures.
At Second Overlook we were pretty much alone to admire the jagged spires and bright green minerals inside the massive depression.

From Second Overlook, we gaze inside Upheaval Dome.

Ancient evaporated salt deposit or out-of-this-world meteor crater?  Scientists still argue the question.
That's the mystery of Upheaval Dome.
Until some geologists can fund an expedition to bore into the inner crust, we will probably never know.

High up on Second Overlook, the
world below looks small indeed.

Up on top the warm gusts of more than 20 m.p.h. whipped our hair and challenged our balance. High puffy clouds sailed by. "What a gorgeous day," exclaimed Andy. And he was absolutely right... in an area that is so beautiful and so desolate.

Scientists question what created this unusual geographical
feature in southeastern Utah.

As we meandered along the main road of Island in the Sky, Andy stopped at graveled, underdeveloped pullouts. "They ought to mark a few of these," he said. "This is probably the best view we've had yet of the whole valley. I think it rivals the Grand Canyon in expanse."
A couple other cars lined the road behind us. These visitors too appreciated the unspoiled vastness. They gasped and nodded and snapped pictures.

Roadside tourists to Island in the Sky all agree that the views
are breathtaking.

"Do you want to try the settlement leg of Aztec Butte?" Andy asked around 2:00 p.m., as we retraced the road along the Plateau. When we hiked the mile in to the Pueblo Indian granaries, we didn't realize the settlement was another half mile to the right from the split in the trail.
"Sure," I said. "I'd like to see it if it's not all uphill."
"That trail was level through heavy, powdery sand until we reached the split," he reminded me.
What we didn't know was that this small Anasazi family group lived at the top of the next butte. Gingerly, I climbed the sandstone cliff, trying to balance with the 20 m.p.h. wind in my face. I held rock juts and grabbed branches of Utah juniper that clung to the cracks. Almost at the top, amid a few scattered boulders and a whole lot of loose pebbles on the steep slope, with less than a foot width of trail and only a few haphazard rock cairns for guidance, I had had it.  Andy climbed on over the rim to find a small pueblo house nestled in the rock wall on the back side of the butte.

Hundreds of years ago this view greeted some Anasazi family
every afternoon, just like it does for modern hikers at Aztec Butte.

When he came back a few minutes later, he said, "You really wouldn't have liked that last stretch. In fact, if I got you over it, I'm not even sure I would have gotten you back."
I guess then I would have become a modern Anasazi on my own island in the sky. And for however long I lasted, I would have had this gorgeous view of the world.