Mill Creek, Moab, Utah
How Old is Ancient?
While in Moab, Utah during April 2009, I had the pleasure of hiking with my friends, Tiger, Terry
and Leo. After taking an unmarked turnoff from the paved road, we
proceeded uphill for another half mile. Later, when AAA came to
retrieve our keys, which we had locked in our truck, Tiger described the
turnoff to our locksmith as follows: “You know, up on the north side,
where the Hanson boys used to live. Look for six poplar trees and then
turn between the two houses. You will see us at the top”.
Tiger Keogh is a native of Moab. In her youth, she
and her friends ran free in this area. Each summer, she and her friends
scaled the same ridge on which we stood, then camped out for a week
along Mill Creek,
in the canyon below. It was camping at its finest. If they wanted
something, like blueberries for their pancakes, Tiger could run the two
miles home, get what was needed and be back at camp before her
girlfriends began cooking without her. Only locals and a few Moab
aficionados know the area where we planned to hike. Until this
late-afternoon hike, we knew Mill Creek only by the Mill Creek Parkway,
which passes under Main Street within a concrete culvert.
After consulting our topographical maps, we discovered that Mill Creek has its origins deep in the La Sal Range, to the east of Moab. The stream originates high on the western col of Manns Peak, near Mt. Mellenthin and Mt. Tukuhnikivatz.
Chilled by snow-melt at that time of year, the creek water ran cold
through our canyon, half way to its confluence with the Colorado River.
At our location, behind the slickrock ridges, we
found a peaceful canyon containing the best of what Moab has to offer in
hiking trails. After a short, steep climb down to Mill Creek, we set
off downstream to locate some of Tiger’s favorite Indian rock art sites,
waterfalls and swimming holes.
Late afternoon is always a good time for a hike in Canyonlands. With its unique energy and light, the afternoon sun enhances any Moab
hiking experience. As the Sun’s rays glance in from a lower angle,
spirits unseen at noon, show themselves as light and shadow.
In quick succession, Tiger located several
previously undocumented rock art panels. Our first stop featured
several individual images of what we might call “little people”.
Were these images of children, with cute, pudgy bodies or did they
represent how the Ancients viewed themselves in the reflected light of
Mill Creek?
Next, Tiger pointed out a lone character that we
call “Starman”, for each of his appendages ends in a star burst shape.
Did his maker etch a man in stone or did the artist wish to document the
image of a constellation, visible in the night sky? We assume that
star-hands and star-feet do not indicate that the Ancients had webbed
feet. But then again, one man's lizard is another man's
extraterrestrial.
Next, we came to a prominent image, set close to the
trail. It was of a man and two dogs, out for a hike in Mill Creek
Canyon. A lone Ancient relieves himself from the canyon rim. His
depicted stream of urine arcs gracefully toward the bottom of the
canyon. The dogs appear to frolic nearby. Apparently, the Ancients had
a whimsical side, presaging comic book art and humor by thousands of
years.
Next, we encountered images so ancient and unusual
that we could not determine if they were human made or of natural
origin. Petroglyphs or not, desert varnish had re-glazed them since the
time of their inception. As with so many images that we come across in
the area, it is often difficult to determine the age or origin of what
we see incised in stone. As with beauty, this art was is in the eye of
the beholder.
Our next rock art visitor was a snake,
showing himself on a sunny wall. He appeared to be watching over his
own little Garden of Eden. His maker designed his ziggurat shape to
stand out along the trail. Was this an early signpost that warned of
rattlesnakes, or was it a celebration of nature, right down to the
serpent’s tongue, still wagging after all these years?
Our final rock art visitors on our downstream leg
were striking and unique. Like a child’s daisy chain of cutout paper
dolls, this group of Ancient friends posed, hand in hand. As striking
as their ageless gesture of friendship was to us, their setting was even
more awe-inspiring. Above their heads was a perfect image of the La
Sal Mountains, from which this stream arises. With its sun rays
showering down above our rock art friends, we asked ourselves again, did
humans create this part of the tableau, or did Mother Nature add the
mountains and sun rays in the intervening years? Either way, it is a
shrine to both nature and friendship.
After only a decade or two of cattle grazing, many
stream beds in the West have gone from pastoral to arroyo, meaning "dry
canyon". Kanab Arroyo,
near Kanab, Utah is a perfect example. After only a few years grazing
and wood gathering along Kanab Creek, an 1885 flash-flood created stream
terraces along the formerly flat canyon bottom. Once a stream becomes a
gully, it cannot repair itself.
Along our hiking path, Mill Creek has a slickrock
underpinning of hard Kayenta Sandstone. That solid foundation makes it
less likely that the inevitable flash-floods will dig any deeper into
the canyon floor. Thus, Mill Creek retains a timeless and idyllic look,
despite many years of cattle grazing in the area.
In terms of geologic time, the overlaying Navajo
Sandstone that forms the canyon walls in this area may erode quickly,
but during the lifetime of the average human, little changes along the
middle stretch of Mill Creek. Unlike Kanab Creek, which once had rich
deposits of alluvial soil, the stone floor of Mill Creek Canyon is too
tough to rip up and wash away.
Especially during each year's monsoon, flash-floods
do visit Mill Creek. The larger floods can wash away soil and plants,
but in this a desert watershed, mature plant communities coexist in deep
pockets of soil that often overhang the stream-bed, itself. In March
or April, snow-melt in the upper reaches of Mill Creek adds to the
lighter winter flow, yet our group easily forded the stream at several
points along the trail.
For us, this visit included views of cottonwood
trees leafing-out and wildflowers growing in sunny spots along the
trail. In the summer, Tiger told us, the snow melt increases and
creates natural water-slides, some of which become many yards long. One
natural water-slide ends near a swimming hole that would soon be five
feet deep. The warmer temperature of both the air and the water during
the summer, made this the natural place for Moab kids to play and swim.
The energy exuding from Mill Creek Canyon is of
tranquility and peace. It is a place to nurture the spirit and the
soul. If one stops there for a moment in the afternoon sun, new energy
coalesces. Sunlight refracts in the lens of our camera and through the
lenses of our eyes. Perhaps because of the glare, these energies are
difficult to see in nature, but easy to see in a photographic image.
Having previously experienced such anomalies near
Moab, we were not surprised to see Tiger, Terry and Leo each bathed in
new energy at Mill Creek Canyon. Intuition tells us that running water
facilitates the rejuvenation of many life forms, including humans.
Whether it is the crashing of the surf in Kaua’i, Hawaii or the burbling
stream that we call Mill Creek, the sound of running water is primal to
us all. If we allow the sun, wind, water and spirit to travel with us,
they will guide us on our path, as they did on that late spring day.
After scaling a talus slope within the canyon, we stood at least fifty feet
above
the stream-bed. Looking down, we saw only Leo. Tiger and Terry had
disappeared. Smiling, Leo looked back up at us. With his vast
experience in life, Leo’s look combined curiosity, concern and awareness
of his environment. Without words, he seemed to say, “How are you
doing up there? Could you take a picture so that we can remember our
presence here?” Since Leo asked so much with just a look, here in words
and pictures, I gladly document our visit to Mill Creek Canyon.
above
the stream-bed. Looking down, we saw only Leo. Tiger and Terry had
disappeared. Smiling, Leo looked back up at us. With his vast
experience in life, Leo’s look combined curiosity, concern and awareness
of his environment. Without words, he seemed to say, “How are you
doing up there? Could you take a picture so that we can remember our
presence here?” Since Leo asked so much with just a look, here in words
and pictures, I gladly document our visit to Mill Creek Canyon.
By James McGillis at 04:04 PM | | Comments (1) | Link
