Canyonlands Mega-Hike #2

I went on another mega-hike yesterday, this time to Lathrop Canyon: a 13.6 mile out-and-back trip to the White Rim...which means, of course that there are also 1,400 feet of elevation involved...it's a given. If there'd been a few more hours in the day, I might have tacked on a quick round trip to the Colorado River as well. There's a mountain bike trail that takes off from the bottom of Lathrop and would've added 8 miles and 600 feet. I had an abundance of energy yesterday and was itching to go, but sun sets at 5:00 these days, and the thought of searching for cairns in the dark brought me back to my senses. The hike I took was enough. Challenging, ever so slightly terrifying (I've still got occasional issues with steep drop offs...especially when descending), and stunningly gorgeous. Treasures for the eyes on a large scale...

...and on a small one. 

Here I stopped to BEG that these precarious sandstone pillars would stay standing for...at least a few more hours. (Check out the waning moon at bottom left)

I'm starting to become acquainted with the pacing of these hikes below the rim. Every rock layer has a character. There's a particular feel to descending the imposing Wingate cliffs by picking my way down a boulder field of Wingate, and Kayenta, and maybe a little Navajo Sandstone thrown in for good measure.  

There's the trail...see it? Yeah...me neither. It descends from the upper right of this photo and eventually straight down the middle in a tight series of switchbacks. I moved very slowly in this section. Cairn to cairn. Lots of sliding on my butt. 

Then there's the slightly more gentle Chinle, and (maybe my favorite) the chocolate-peanut-butter-ice-cream-layer cake of the Moenkopi.

And then I'm at the bottom--and its smooth sailing and lovely views all the way to the White Rim. 

Here's where the mountain bike trail continues on to the Colorado...a journey for another day. 

For now, there's lunch! 

And then it's back up those cliffs. 

I love how much things are different on the way back. Even though it's the very same trail--I can even follow my own footprints--by the time I head up after an all-day hike, the light has changed, the shadows have changed, I approach little nooks and crannies from a new angle and find old mining equipment...

The hoofprints I followed on the way down...

...reveal their creators on the way up. (Woo hoo! The first time I've EVER seen bighorns in the wild:)

And the evening light falling over this maze of canyons--there's just no good way to describe it. 

Check out the reflections on that bend in the Colorado...

Up...and up...and up...

And then looking down on my lunch spot. Right at that tip of that little canyon so far below. 

The colors of the Navajo Sandstone come alive in the evening light. And check out this crazy bush! It's angled perfectly to collect the most light it can in that one spot--roots and branches totally bare on the back side--flat as a pancake. 

Here comes Peter Cottontail...

Hoppin' down the bunny trail...looks like bunnies follow cairns too. 

And to cap it all off, the last mile of the trail crosses a big open grassland, punctuated by little bluffs and buttes, and just as I was coming up on my car, I heard the trilling wails of a flock of migrating cranes. A little V of them circled around a bit--maybe catching their bearings, maybe gaining altitude--and then they took off to the south east--straight toward New Mexico. 

Sunrise at Mesa Arch

Monday, November 23,

Here’s how my day began…

Grumpy, tired, visual migraine obstructing my vision.

No apples left (gotta go to the store tonight).

Shower.

Clothes.

Maybe watching sunrise will help.

6 miles of driving and ¼ mile of walking and I arrive at Mesa Arch.

Oh great…there’s a crowd.

Screw the arch. Everyone’s got a picture of that. I’m gonna find my own spot.

One drop of sunlight.

The world awakes.

I’m taken back to sunrises on the shores of Lake Michigan... 

...to sunrises at Bryce Canyon...

...and know from now on I’ll remember this sunrise in particular.

The crowds disperse, and I find my way to a vantage under the arch. 

When they said this may be the most perfect photo op in the desert southwest, they weren’t kidding. The way lit sandstone frames Washerwoman Arch and Monster Tower...like it was planned that way. 

Potholes on the White Rim sparkle.

Sandstone layers recall ice layers I’ve seen coat rocks on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

Interesting.

I only remember to look back in the other direction when I walk back to my car...

...but vow afterward to watch sunrise from many different vantage points. On the other side of sunrise I see new shapes and colors that are hidden in the shadows of afternoon and evening.

Morning shadows shrink away and reveal other treasures...

And I drive home through fields of jeweled grass.

In a place like this, big space, great distance, and deep time are on full display.

It’s sometimes easy to forget the small, the close, and the fleeting.

Somewhere along the way I also forgot that I was grumpy.

Thank you.

More Spring Ice

It's supposed to get up near 50 degrees today, but intricate patterns of frost and ice can still be found within the little nooks and crannies of shadow kept relatively immune to the day's increasing warmth.

I enjoyed getting some close ups of this puddle in particular. The swirly topo-map-esque patterns reminded me a lot of my own drawing.

Melting

The effects of a warm day on the iced-over Northwestern campus pond...

Mushrooms on ice

Not REAL mushrooms...of course...

Ice and snow

The weather this year has been odd to say the least. Last winter we were all forced to endure a relentless deep freeze, but so far in 2012 our temperatures have swung wildly between the sub-zero madness that is typical of Chicago this time of year, and eerily spring-like days where temperatures soar into the upper 40s and turn all the snow into vast puddles of muddy slush.

The lake has only recently frozen close to shore...

And I've missed seeing the masses of pancake ice that I was so excited about last year, though a few strays have occasionally floated in...


...I've still been able to find a few interesting ice-scapes during my daily walks...

...but today's one of those slushy days, and most of the stark icy beauty I've developed such a fondness for has been replaced by miserable masses of wet.

On the upside, my playing has been going quite well these days and I'm looking forward to the quarter's first orchestra concerts this weekend. In case I haven't mentioned it yet, we'll be performing Mahler's 3rd symphony. I'm playing 2nd trumpet, which means that I get a lot of cool stuff to play, but can also sit back and listen to our brilliant principal trumpeter sing away on all the solos...it's great! The concert will be broadcast live online through the Pick Staiger web page. Check it out if you've got a spare couple of hours on Saturday evening.