RETIREMENT TRIP #7

City of Rocks Really Rocks

                                                                     Although temperatures hovered in the high 30’s this morning in Burley, Idaho, the wind had subsided.  It was going to be a lovely day.

We headed for City of Rocks, a place known for extremes in temperature.

“I read that it can be freezing there on July or August mornings and reach more than 100 degrees by afternoon,” said Andy.

In Declo we passed a group of high school age kids carrying bright orange bags. They were cleaning the highway at 9:00 a.m.

“Community service,” said Andy. “It must be part of school here.”

“That’s good,” I said.

Old Conestoga wagons remind visitors to City of Rocks
that this was one of the original trails West.

“Yes, but it shouldn’t have to be,” said Andy.  “States spend millions and millions of dollars needlessly every year to clean up highways when thoughtless people are to blame!  If they only stopped tossing garbage out of car windows!”

“Hopefully these kids who are cleaning up will come to understand that and pass it on,” I told him.

We went by Pomerelle Ski Area.  It was certainly high enough and mostly treeless.  Huge new homes graced the slopes on adjoining mountains.  They all had sprawling fields of rich grassland, herds of Black Angus and arching entry gates to the properties:  Mountain Aire, Grand View, Little Cove, Aria.  Even the cemetery was called Sunny Cedar Rest.  We chuckled.

Rocks in the background typify the
scenery ahead.

Two Conestoga wagons marked the Visitor Center entrance to City of Rocks National Reserve.  They were reproductions, but they looked real enough.  We went in to watch the nine-minute introductory film.  This area was a key landmark on the California Trail.

Andy checks out Camp Road, now
gravel, that served as a byway
 for early pioneers.

At the entrance the road turned to gravel, but it was well packed.  We stopped at the sign and then headed for the first overlook, a mile uphill.

Camp Road winds uphill into the
rocky outcroppings.

“I’d sure hate to meet someone coming the other way,” said Andy.  Luckily, we didn’t, going up or down.

Two campers were parked at the overlook, even though a sign at the turnoff suggested, “No trailers.”



From the entrance we can see the
jumbles of rocks in the distance. 

A cottonwood tree still thrived in front of the ruins of a house.  “There are still in-holdings here,” said Andy.  “The equipment is current.  That’s why the gate is pad-locked.”

Early pioneers imagine a city here with granite intrusions
from ancient times.

The granite outcroppings at Camp Rock were magnificent.  In every direction, there was a picture.

At Camp Rock we met Archeologist Tara, Chief of Integrated Resources.  “If you look over here,” she pointed to the back side of the granite outcropping, “you’ll see a profile of a man.  Next to it he carved ‘Wife Wanted.’  He was advertising!” 

We all chuckled.

The ruins of an old farm house add
to the rocky jumble in City of Rocks.

“And over there,” Tara continued, “is the signature of Ida Fullinwider.  She was only 16 when her family came through here as pioneers.”

Pioneers leave their mark but not for
eternity, as signatures slowly erode
from the face of Camp Rock.

In 1930 there were hundreds of names recorded on Camp Rock by emigrants as thousands of them headed to the West.  The historic records are disappearing rapidly--some due to nature and some due to malicious and careless human beings.
Tara and I talked about the ancient graffiti.  Some of it was done with axel grease, since the granite is so hard to carve.

“I am concerned about Register Rock,” said Tara.  “There is no fence there, so people are tempted to touch, and the oil on their fingers can’t be good for the rock.”

“Maybe they are tempted to touch history,” I suggested. 

From Camp Rock every direction offers a picture of scenic
beauty. No wonder the pioneers were fascinated
by the Twin Sisters.

“Could be,” she agreed, “but most probably don’t even think about that.  Those old ones are starting to fade.”  She pointed to a couple signatures nearby.  “The older ones are probably being worn away by the salt from Great Salt Lake in Utah.  And we have cows roaming here as well.  We do have some thoughtless modern graffiti on the other side.  We have tried to wash off the newer ones.”

“So can you sandblast the modern stuff?” I asked.

“Not really.  It’s too close to the old ones.”  Tara sighed.

I knew how she must feel to see such treasures fade away.

Twin Sisters represent granite intrusions from two different
but similar geologic intrusions millions of years apart.

We drove on to Twin Sisters, two gigantic granite peaks.  The movie had explained the left sister was one hundred times older than the right one, but both were formed the same way.  Molten lava had intruded other rock layers deep beneath the surface.  It hardened, remained under pressure and metamorphosized into granite.  Later, the whole layer uplifted and the softer surrounding rock eroded away.

Twin Sisters represent different geologic times but the
same geologic formation process. 

The younger sister was Almo Pluton granite.  The older one is from the ancient Green Creek Complex.  While only the tops of the plutons are visible, these ancient granites are like an open window into the earth’s crust.

Once exposed, granite is subjected to weathering by wind, freezing and thawing water, salt, and other naturally corrosive chemicals.  These forces work to create pinnacles, pan holes, honeycombs, windows and arches.

Register Rock was our next stop.  I snapped a picture of swallows’ nests clinging to the rock crevices.  The swallows were long gone.

The imaginations of pioneers created
names for the unusual formations
as they camped at Register Rock.

The 14,407-acre City of Rocks Reserve exhibits what some scientists call a biogeographic crossroads, where many plants and animals are on the edge of their habitat range.   More than 750 species of plants and animals have been documented within the Reserve.

Names are still visible from the 1800's
when pioneers traveled West in search
of new opportunity and better lives.

Pioneers through here on the trail West left their marks between 1843 and 1882, the year of the first pioneers on the Oregon Trail and the year of the completion of the Short Line railroad when Conestoga wagons became obsolete and a thing of the past.  Many signed their names on the rocks.

In 1843, those who came sought land, but once gold was discovered in California in 1849, thousands were enticed to hit the trail seeking their fortune.

The first emigrants followed the landmarks described by fur trappers and early explorers.  Others soon followed wagon ruts and published descriptions. 

High above the world but an easy climb,
Andy sits in the sky at Window Arch.

More than 200,000 emigrants followed the California Trail through City of Rocks, a name coined by James F. Wilkins, emigrant and artist, in August of 1849.

The area served as a stagecoach way station after the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869.  Homesteaders moved in to graze cattle in the 1870’s.  Today it is a popular mountain climbing destination, with more than 700 developed routes, ranging in height from 30 to 600 feet of textured rock surface.

“There are some climbers,” said Andy.  “This area is said to be as challenging as Yosemite for rock climbing.”

A climber scales the face
of Elephant Rock.

“Oh, stop,” I said, looking up from my writing.  I hopped out to capture a girl scaling the lower part of Elephant Rock and a guy just mounting the crest of the giant formation.

Sue tries her hand...and
foot at rock climbing
at Window Arch.

Window Arch was a 300-foot walk from one of the campgrounds.  What a gorgeous place to camp.  We walked out to the arch.  The aspen trees were almost all bare, and a chilly wind gusted through when the sun slipped behind a cumulus cloud. Yellow rubber rabbitbrush accented the outcroppings.  We peeked through Window Arch.  Other monoliths and aspires soared behind us.

Parking Lot Rock had a .6-mile trailhead.  But the four other cars in the lot were probably climbing.  Immediately, I saw a guy scaling the side.  It looked like he was free climbing.

“I can’t watch,” said Andy.  “I can’t stand to look at it even if he has a rope.  And I don’t think he does.”

Parking Lot Rock attracts climbers because of its
difficult, challenging crevices and smooth top.

We watched in awe for a while, as the climber found footing in the tiny crevices of the granite.  Just then a female voice called up to him.  His partner started the climb as he neared the top.  We left the spectacle and headed down a .6-mile trail to Creekside Towers.
Small patches of prickly pear cactus grew by the trail under junipers and cedars, all dwarfed by the cold.

At the base of Creekside Towers, Andy grabbed my hand and said, “You can do this.”  Together we climbed about 25 feet.  “And I had to work to get you that high!” he teased.

In spite of rock outcroppings and rock jumbles, the
panorama spreads before us.

 

From Creekside Towers, every direction
offers spectacular views.



From our 25-foot high perch,
we photograph the granite
face of Creekside Towers to the left.

Clouds had started to move in.  In spite of the chilly breeze welling up, we waited for the sun to clear the clouds for better pictures.  The climb back out called for a little energy.  We had driven up to 6,830 feet so elevation mattered!

Back in the Parking Lot Rock parking lot, we watched the climbers again.  She had reached a precarious ledge, and he waited patiently about ten feet from the top.

Climbing partners scale the cliff wall
at Parking Lot Rock in City of Rocks.

“It must take nerves of steel to do that!” I thought out loud.  And here I had made it a whole 25 feet!

The next turnoff took us to Bread Loaves, two very boxy formations.  Now clouds predominated, and only small patches of blue poked through.  We stopped again for pictures.  The trails here were all long ones, and the sign read 6,900 feet.  Higher meant colder.

Our final stop at 7,200 feet was The Finger. “I don’t know which one though,” said Andy

Jumpers in body suits and with parachutes legally "fly" from
Perrine Bridge, the only legal bridge launch site in the U.S.

Turning into the uphill cutoff, he said, “I think we could get rain.”   Huge grey clouds had covered the sky overhead and blanketed the formations.   “It’s ten miles out, once we leave the junction, and this road wouldn’t be good once it got wet.”

We met a truck on the way down, but it wasn’t until the road had widened.  “I’m sure glad I didn’t meet him a while ago,” said Andy.

The Snake River continues to carve the land around Twin Falls.

The road out was hilly.  For miles we didn’t see a house.  “No one lives here,” said Andy.  “There are cows, and I saw a fence, but it’s not as lucrative as the other side.”

The pamphlet said that many pioneers were forced to lighten their loads at City of Rocks.  They left behind precious items before embarking on the most dangerous part of their trek ahead—Granite Pass, Forty-Mile Desert and the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Water pours from the cliff
side in downtown Twin Falls.

We only had to drive to Twin Falls.  And that was far enough!