Moab Memories - The Gemini Bridges Road 2006

September 26, 2006 - Despite the threat of rain between Dead Horse Point and the La Sal Range in Moab, Utah, we decided to head home via the back-country road past Gemini Bridges. On paper, it would be a shortcut, but in reality, it was a real challenge. In those days, I thought my Nissan Titan truck could tackle any four-wheel drive road. One road was as good as another, or so I thought. I have since learned that nothing could be further from the truth. Some tracks are good for a full-sized truck, others for only a Jeep. As the roughness of a road increases, it takes a specialized rig or even a motorcycle to conquer some paths. As the afternoon wore on into twilight, we learned that this was a road fit for specialized vehicles not for a normal light duty 4X4 truck.

Identified on maps as the Gemini Bridges Road, those romantic sounding land-forms became the object of our attention. The road down from the high plateau at Dead Horse Point started smooth enough. The easy trail lulled us into thinking that this would be an easy jaunt. Soon enough, we spotted signs identifying the Gemini Bridges, just a bit to the east of our dirt track. As we approached the bridges, we could see that rampant use of four-wheel drive vehicles and motorcycles had torn up the land and created a dead zone of denuded rock. All safety barriers and informational signage had fallen prey to marauders.

In the wild, an arch is a continuous sweep of stone that allows passage beneath. A bridge is similar, but requires that a watercourse, either seasonal or permanent, flow beneath the land-form. The twin rock bridges (hence the moniker Gemini) are hard to photograph from up top, where the trail led us. In the accompanying photo, I am standing on the first bridge, shooting down through the arch of the second bridge and the dry watercourse below. If you visit there, watch your step.

After visiting the bridges, we realized that the light was fading, and that rain threatened. Still, the topography was so fascinating; we stopped often to capture photos in the late afternoon light. Strange, anthropomorphic shapes seemed to arise from the rocks. Far below us, standing in the late afternoon sunlight, was an enormous stone bird, standing erect by the trail. In the photo below, you can see it standing out against the landscape. More about "him" soon.

Guarding the lower reaches of the canyon was a cold-blooded looking serpent. Standing vertically against one wall of the canyon into which we were descending, it stood as a warning of the rough road ahead. By that time, we were traveling downstream in a long dry wash. Having heard stories of thunderstorms above creating flash floods in such canyons, we began to hurry along. Hurrying there was a relative term, since the terrain became rockier and harder to pass.

Soon we came upon what we later learned is “Gooney Bird Rock.” He, for I assumed it was a “he” himself, guarded the lower canyon. In all my research no one has mentioned how tall the Bird is, but he appears to be about 150 feet tall. Later, I learned that it is legal to climb this iconic piece of Wingate sandstone. With the over-climbed demise of the once famous Cobra, farther up the Colorado River, I am amazed that Gooney Bird Rock has not received proper protection from hordes of climbers.

Regardless of erosion and lack of protection, Gooney Bird Rock was a remarkable sight. As the late September sun shone upon its full height, the colors of the sandstone and the filtered light of the sun combined to make him glow in ethereal tones. Realizing that our own light would soon fail, we headed down the trail toward the highway far below.

As I have said before, scale is hard to judge in the canyons. As the Sun set, three Jeeps roared by, heading up canyon. Here, in the adjacent photo, the first Jeep is climbing the roughest and the steepest part of the road. To our astonishment, the Jeeps headed up trail as if on a Sunday drive. In 2006, Jeeps were smaller and simpler than the ones we now see in 2024. Those earlier models could easily glide over rough terrain and the small obstacles of the Gemini Bridges Road. In fact, Moab has been the proving grounds for new Jeep models for many years.

When the Sun finally set, the canyons became dark, and photography became secondary to getting safely down to the highway. Near the end of the trail, the road hugged the side of a rocky mountainside, clinging to a narrow rock-ledge. When I say “rock,” there was not a spec of soil or sand to drive upon. Only the shape of a single-track trail was discernible in the headlights of my truck. Since there was no turnout, we hoped not to meet any late arrivals traveling up canyon.

After an arduous end to what we thought would be a simple jaunt, we finally approached the gathering point near the railroad tracks at Seven Mile Canyon. By then, twilight had faded behind the massive redrocks canyon walls. By the time we started on the short highway trip back to the Moab Rim CamPark in Moab, nightfall surrounded us.

In those days, the Moab Pile was yet untouched by a massive removal project we now know as UMTRA. As such it completely hid the lights of Moab from our view. In 2024, the removal of the Moab Pile has once again created a full view of Moab as one passes by the entrance to Arches National Park.

From the red rock canyons near Moab, Utah in the year 2006, the Gooney Bird says, “Bye, bye.”

This is Part Two of a two-part article. To read Part One, click HERE.

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