My family arrived in the Goblin Valley area in a staggered fashion. After Jason and I concluded our short exploration of Bell’s end, we met up with some of them and took a trip to the temple.
Some of the figures on the Temple Mountain Wash Pictograph Panel are over six feet tall.
The group checked out the Temple Mountain Wash Pictograph Panel in route to Temple Mountain. This panel was originally more than eight feet tall and over a hundred feet long. It includes pictographs in both Fremont and Barrier Canyon Style making sections of it over 1000 years old. So, naturally, some numbskull decided to use it for shooting practice. The bullet marks scarring sections of its surface were a testament to the irresponsible stupidity of humans, but they weren’t the only reminders we received that afternoon.
The names of the mines at Temple Mountain have become lost over time, but through extensive research we discovered this one was likely called Lopez Incline.
At 1,200 feet, Temple Mountain is the highest point in the San Rafael Reef, the eastern edge of the San Rafael Swell. It has two peaks divided by a saddle. While the mountain is beautiful, its most intriguing components don’t lie above but beneath.
Some of the shafts and mine openings on Temple Mountain smelled of sulfur. Hydrogen sulfide, a common gas encountered when mining, can cause explosions and asphyxiation.The kids found the mining debris scattered about fascinating and brought a metal detector to find it more readily.
Miners sought out vanadium, radium, and uranium at Temple Mountain beginning in 1914. Extraction continued off and on until the 1920s. Then, with the nuclear boom during the Cold War, mining recommenced and escalated. Between 1948 and 1956, the Temple Mountain area produced 261,000 tons of uranium ore containing 1,287,000 pounds of triuranium octoxide, AKA yellowcake, and 3,799,000 pounds of vanadium pentoxide. Mining decreased after 1956 but continued until at least the mid-sixties.
By weight, iron, vanadium, uranium, selenium, arsenic, chromium, and zinc were the amplest components of Temple Mountain ore. It was about 1.75% triuranium octoxide and 4% vanadium pentoxide.
What became of those mines and their associated shafts? Apparently, nothing. The Utah DNR has closed 203 mine openings at Temple Mountain in the Abandoned Mine Reclamation Program since 2002. Even with those efforts, some cavities clearly remain as we came upon an unmarked shaft that dropped about 30 feet. We also encountered one intact steel tower that appeared to be patiently awaiting a reopening as it slowly deteriorated. It stood over an exposed shaft with only sparse bars to prevent a human from stumbling in. We dropped a rock down, and it took 2.5 seconds to hit the bottom. That’s a fall of about 100 feet if my calculations are accurate.
This steel frame, part of the Calyx (AEC) Mines, was the only one we encountered that appeared fully intact. The rusting cage over its shaft did not rouse any confidence regarding its upkeep though.
Over the course of nearly three and a half hours, we only made it about four miles because we stopped to examine so many things. We were amazed how much mining equipment and miner’s junk were just left to rot and rust. Besides headframes and other mining standards, we came across ovens, fridges, mattress springs, building foundations, vehicles, shoes, piles of oxidized cans, and even tubes of electrical paste. Since these leftovers were more than 50 years old, they held historical interest and captured our curiosity. However, it was impossible to ignore the carelessness involved. Obviously, mining companies abruptly departed leaving hazardous holes perforating the ground and unsightly scrap everywhere. Sometimes I’m disgusted by my species!
We could not find this mine on any government maps, which all predated 1967. Perhaps it was built slightly later.
Afterward, we stopped by Goblin Valley State Park and let the kids run around in hollows and on hoodoos for about an hour. It was only a preview of what they would be enjoying the next day. Even with that sampling, no cranny or alcove was repeated at any point during our visit. In Goblin Valley, it’s difficult to return to a precise spot even when you aim to.
The Calyx 8 Mine was the biggest producer of uranium at Temple Mountain followed by Calyx 3 and Vanadium King 1. This adit is none of the above.
The final day of our outing was all about exploring Goblin Valley’s misshapen rock stubs and spacious caverns that were certainly no mistakes of Nature. I will cover these perfect oddities next time.
Jason and I are Moab junkies. Last spring, we decided to create an outdoor outing extravaganza by combining a visit to Moab with a visit to Goblin Valley. We also opted to invite some family members to join us for the Goblin Valley portion. All the above were excellent decisions. Others made regarding this vacation were perhaps less prudent, and some of humanity’s missteps witnessed during these travels even more so. I’ll get to those soon while covering the trip’s plentiful, mysterious slots and silhouettes.
Sorrel Ridge Trail starts at the Sorrel River Ranch and is appropriate for even the moderately lazy.
Moab was the first stop on our destination circuit. Jason and I made it into town with just enough time to complete the short Sorrel Ridge Trail before dark, which is 1.8 miles in total. Sorrel Ridge, unsurprisingly, is a ridge overlooking the winding Colorado River. We found the views lovely in all directions and the desert wildflowers prolific on this easy trek. As I had injured my knee snowboarding only five days earlier and had an acute case of patellar bursitis, my knee was not in agreement with the rest of my body about the difficulty of this activity. Stepping up or downhill was not pleasant. Of course, patellar objections didn’t deter me in any way.
Mary Jane Canyon is not technical but is splashy.
After getting some overdue sleep to counteract a couple crazy weeks, we headed into Mary Jane Slot Canyon the next day on the Professor Creek Trail. Professor Creek originates in the La Sals and travels to the Colorado River passing through Mary Jane on its way. The Professor Creek Trail follows that stream’s flow through Mary Jane. The majority of the canyon isn’t too constricted, but a section of it narrows to just 10 feet with walls towering over 100 feet. Amidst these confines, a 30-foot waterfall drops over a bulky chokestone. That waterfall was our destination and is the end of the hikeable portion of Mary Jane.
While the Professor Creek Trail is reportedly extremely popular, such was not the case on the spring Thursday we encountered it.
Reviews of this 8.4-mile route said hikers should be prepared to get their feet wet in multiple creek crossings. If by “multiple” the writers meant exactly 180, they were correct. Am I exaggerating? No, I literally mean there are 90 crossings each way adding up to 180 in total. Since temperatures reached the low 80s that day, those dips were mostly welcomed, except near the waterfall. There, we lingered too long relishing the echoing surge while the shade from the lofty walls and chill from the cool water dropped our internal thermostats to uncomfortable levels.
Professor Creek tumbles off a chokestone four miles, and 90 creek crossings, from the trailhead.
It took us about 5.5 hours to complete this trek. Apparently, most people take less than four, but we didn’t mind achieving slowpoke status, especially with injuries considered. For though it handled this long, flat hike better than our quick climb the night before, my unhappy knee turned bright red in patches from the activity. I thought maybe I had somehow found some poison ivy, but Jason theorized the blotches were related to the swelling. As the rest of my body showed no hints of a toxic interaction, Jason was probably right.
The water flowing from the falls wasn’t as frigid as snow runoff can be, but it did numb over time.
The next morning, it was time for a change in scenery and weather. Instead of 82 degrees, we got 61 degrees and 28 MPH winds. We left Moab in a rainy state and headed to Farnsworth Canyon near Goblin Valley State Park. Unfortunately, the storm did the same.
We didn’t see even a single person in Farnsworth Canyon. Was it the tricky access road or the foolhardy day?
We chose Farnsworth Canyon because its slot section is limited, unlike many other trails in the area. With the rest of the canyon a low flash-flood risk, we believed we were selecting a path wisely. As the precipitation was supposed to stop by the time we started our hike, we assumed slot thoughts were only a secondary precaution. However, neither the timing nor terrain went as expected.
The Farnsworth Narrows pass quickly, but they are indeed slim.
As anticipated, the clouds cleared, and the sunshine returned as we neared Farnsworth’s trailhead… and then the clouds came back about half an hour later. Just minutes after their arrival, thunder began regularly interrupting the tranquility with demanding crashes. Did I mention that this whole hike travels through a wash? While only a small section is confined enough to be potentially deadly during a flash flood, the wash looked like it had seen an outpouring mere hours before. I wasn’t keen on being caught in a surprise gush of water, fatal or otherwise, or, alternatively, serving as a lightning rod. Thus, what would have been a peaceful ramble turned into an unnerving march.
The Sunrise and Shadow Panel is tricky to find even with GPS, especially if you are simultaneously surveying for rushing water.
Constantly watching for signs of an approaching flood proved tiring. We thought about turning around several times but pressed on to see the Sunrise and Shadow Panel. One section of this panel doesn’t get nearly as much sun exposure and is therefore much better preserved than the other part. It gives you an appreciation for UV’s capacity to erase over time, but it does require some rock scrambling to see well. By the time we returned to the main route after viewing the pictographs, the thunder had dissipated. With the threat level reduced, we decided to go a little farther. We ended up doing the whole stick of the trail’s lollypop but not the lollypop itself.
We hiked 4.15 miles with me nervous for about four of those. Farnsworth’s slot section only lasts about 0.2 miles. Most days, we would have lamented its brevity; on this occasion, we praised Hephaestus. During our return, the weather being what it was, we practically ran through that segment completing it in four minutes. Clusters of tree branches perched high on boulders testified of the power of water as we hurried through, a power we were not keen on immersing ourselves in. Our omnipresent anxiety did nothing to keep us warm though. Despite the fretting, we had to wear two jackets most of the time and ended up with beanies and gloves on as well. I’d love to do this path again without overflow and amperage on my mind.
The next day, Jason and I hiked a small portion of Bell Canyon while we awaited the arrival of family members. We did about a mile and a half total, just enough to get into the real beginnings of Bell, wind around a bit, and appreciate what we wouldn’t have time for. We will certainly be going back to Bell and Little Wild Horse Canyons, which connect to form an alluring loop.
That concluded the confined portion of our trip. Afterwards, the landscapes expanded, at least above ground, and all the risk went below the water table. Likewise, our scrutiny of questionable human decisions expanded beyond those made by our group. Be privy to that scrutiny as we visit the holey temple in my next post.
Last spring, in a total last-minute whim with less than a 24-hour notice, we decided to join my sister and a couple of her kids on a weekend getaway to Capitol Reef National Park. Brief but beautiful could adequately sum the whole thing up… but I’ll go for completely average with my slightly lengthier account of the excursion.
The Golden Throne is over 7,000 feet high.
We arrived in Capitol Reef late in the afternoon. That gave us just enough time to complete the Golden Throne Trail, 1.8 miles each way, before the arrival of night transformed the throne into more of an obscure sofa. The Golden Throne, an imposing dome, rules 1,400 feet above Capitol Gorge. Although it is comprised of Navajo Sandstone, a Carmel Formation topping supplies its characteristic yellow stain. From the Golden Throne Trail, much better views of this geological curiosity can be observed than from Capitol Gorge below. Getting to the trailhead does require a drive through part of that gorge, a surreal experience in of itself along a gravelly water-carved slot that coils between immense sandstone cliffs.
In 1952, Capitol Reef National Monument, not yet a national park, was officially opened to uranium mining in the interest of national security. It was not conservation sensibilities that ultimately halted this scarring work but low uranium concentrations.
The next day, we strode three miles to the top of Cassidy Arch and back. Cassidy Arch hangs 400-500 feet above Grand Wash. Its trail gains 550 feet in roughly half a mile, which I suppose makes it somewhat strenuous, but it just felt like a steady climb to us.
From further back, the extreme gaps beneath Cassidy Arch are strikingly apparent.Cassidy Arch, named after outlaw Butch Cassidy, defies conventions like its namesake.
The craziest thing about this arch is that you can walk out on top of it, which isn’t usually allowed these days in national parks. Further, the terrain around the arch slopes down into a sheer alcove with pocked walls that drop hundreds of feet. The setting makes the tummy tingle and the bladder want to tinkle, but it also makes for some intriguing pictures and memorable incidences.
A decline down to certain oblivion isn’t usually something you skip to your lou over.
Aside from some excellent conversations and a few fantastic meals at Capitol Burger, Curry Pizza, and Chak Balam, that’s all we had time for. Our trip was less than 36 hours from start to finish and less than 72 hours from ideation to completion. As it was short and sweet, I’d like to imagine this post was too.
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