Mines and Missiles for the Malfunctioning

Moab has long been one of our favorite places to hike and bike. What if hiking and biking weren’t an option? Would it still be a favorite? Read below, and you will know.

Before I can tell our story of visiting Moab last November, I need to go further back in time to when I found out my talus bone was fractured on my right ankle, and I had an associated bone lesion. By the way, this fracture happened six months before I became aware of it. (Why yes, I do have an exceptionally high pain tolerance. Why do you ask?). I had been wearing a walking boot for six weeks prior to our Moab excursion due to that discovery. My doctor originally told me I’d likely be able to ditch the boot after a month, but I was still in pain at that point, so the boot remained.

When we first learned that I’d still be dealing with ankle limitations in Moab, we almost canceled our trip. Wouldn’t it be sad to be there and not participate in our usual activities? Eventually, we concluded being in Moab is never sad though we’d have to be creative about ways to occupy ourselves. Luckily, our trip happened to fall right when my doctor said I could try taking the boot off again for a couple days and ascertain pain levels, though I was not supposed to do anything but normal walking during that interval. We decided a short, easy hike would be close enough to “normal walking” to be acceptable, and that’s how we ended up on the Pinyon Interpretive Loop.

Pinyon Interpretive Loop
The Pinyon Interpretive Loop only gains 68 feet making it a perfect trail for the recently bootless to test their calf prowess.

The Pinyon Interpretive Loop, just one mile, tells of the desert’s creative and symbiotic survivors including the pinyon jay, the pinyon mouse, biological soil crust (cryptobiotic soil)… and me. Okay, maybe there wasn’t a sign about me, but that day I felt like there should be. We took this trail unhurriedly for my ankle as it was my first nonessential walking in over six weeks and my first time without a boot for that long as well. It was an absolute delight! Forty-two degrees felt warmer than expected between the radiating rock, sunny skies, and lack of wind. Frankly, I would have found a blizzard acceptable.

Later that day, we investigated some history and rocks by visiting the Yellow Cat Mining District just north of Arches and searching for agate and jasper nearby. Online, we’d read accounts of the road to Yellow Cat being rough. It is not. I’m sure if you jumped on one of the route’s many offshoots you would be in for a rougher ride. However, the main path is appropriate for almost any vehicle.

Yellow Cat
In 2002, 171 openings in the Yellow Cat Mining District were closed as part of the Abandoned Mine Reclamation Program while the historical appearance of these portals was largely retained.

The extraction of radioactive ores (uranium and vanadium) at the Yellow Cat Mining District began in the early 1900s and ceased in the mid-1960s. The area was placed in the Grand County Register of Historic Places in 1998 due to its significance. While we didn’t have enough daylight to fully explore all the mines’ leftover structures, machineries, and crevices, we checked out a two-story building, the hillsides’ many adit openings, and the remnants of some ancient vehicles. We noticed many vent pipes dotting the landscape, a testament to just how far and plentiful the network of tunnels extended in the region.

historic holes
Of the district’s many mine sites, 27 of those at Yellow Cat were eligible for nomination on the National Register of Historic Places.

When daylight began to dim, we commenced rockhounding operations without further delay. As we are not serious enough rockhounds to be particularly picky about specimens, we found some agate and jasper we were thrilled over with about half an hour of searching.

The next day, the high was just 41 degrees, yet we were undeterred. We did a mild, self-guided walking tour around the historic center of town as a compromise for my ankle, which was about 0.75 miles. On that we made thirteen stops to view structures like Star Hall, which was built in 1906 and is on the National Register of Historic Places, the Neals Olson Home, and the Old Courthouse and Jail Building. Most of these were constructed between the mid-1880s and the first decade of the 1900s, with a few newer outliers. The stroll was a fantastic way to slow down and appreciate noteworthy structures we may not have fully noticed before.

Hurrah Pass
Hurrah Pass separates Kane Creek Canyon from the Colorado River Canyon at an elevation of 4,780 feet.

Since my feet couldn’t take me far, later that day we relied on a vehicle. We did the T-Rex 4×4 U-Drive Experience to Hurrah Pass tour. With an elevation of 4,780 feet, Hurrah Pass divides the Colorado River from Kane Springs Canyon. As the name of this tour suggests, we got to drive. Well, Jason got to drive as I didn’t want to with a weak peddle foot.

To get to Hurrah Pass, you take Kane Springs Road until it becomes Hurrah Pass Road. Then, you head up through the Moenkopi Formation, followed by Navajo Sandstone, and finally the Wingate Formation to the pass’ apex. The whole trip from Moab is around 30 miles, but the last section starting at Hurrah Pass Road is the only tricky bit. That concluding part is not terribly technical. However, it rides along cliffs with the base of Kane Springs Canyon hundreds of feet below, so a problem with heights is the main problem. I just had to advert my eyes. We had done some of this route before, but we were in new territory beyond Hunter Canyon.

From Hurrah Pass, potash evaporation ponds, Canyonlands National Park, Dead Horse Point State Park, and Kane Creek Canyon all surround you. It isn’t as scenic as some places around Moab but still impressive.

Athena control center
The central blockhouse bunker at the Athena Launch Complex was constructed of concrete and buried in a hillside.
conduit boxes
These may look like some sort of crazy conveyor belt system, but they were above-ground conduit boxes that connected each launch pad to the control center.

On our way home the next day, we made two stops of discovery. The first was the Athena Launch Complex that was part of the Utah Launch Complex near Green River (also called the Green River Test Site). This Cold War-era compound became active in 1962 as part of the Air Force’s program to test its Advanced Ballistic Re-entry System (ABRES). It was used by the Air Force until 1973. During that time, 141 Athena missiles were fired. The Army also used the site starting in 1971 to test their nuclear-capable Pershing missile. Their operations halted in 1975 after the launch of 61 missiles. After employing hundreds of Green River residents for nearly two decades, the complex was decommissioned in 1979. We learned this information following our visit. Hence, we knew little about what the site was used for or what we would find as we explored it. Would you like to know what you can find? Then, read on.

unprofitable scraps
Anything of value, like copper wiring, was plundered from the Green River Test Site decades ago.
junction dome
The site contains tunnels that go straight into the ground. These are housed in metal and accessed with ladders. They once served as junction domes.

You can freely wander this site’s three launch pads and other assorted structures. The high fences and bright lights that once deterred the unwanted are now warped and broken. We spent hours examining the equipment and buildings trying to figure out what we were looking at. It definitely satiated our curiosity craving!

blockhouse bunker
The inside of the central blockhouse bunker, while a mess, still holds tidbits of interest.

The repetition of the site’s three launch pads allowed us to gradually piece together purpose and design. Portions missing on one endured on others. The TCEE tracks were gone on Pad 3, the first one we encountered. We thought we might be looking at a helicopter pad, but the grooves that seemed like they once held some sort of rail line confused me. Pad 2, our second pad, still had its rails. So, I realized I was right about there once being tracks. Pad 1, the most intact pad, was the last one we visited. After we had puzzled over and imagined how things worked on the other two, it was gratifying to see a much more complete TCEE (Temperature Controlled Environmental Enclosures) system.

Pad 3
Pad 3 launched 49 missiles. More of its infrastructure is missing than the others.
Pad 2
Pad 2 had 41 launches. Sections of its gantry still remain.

Other mysteries didn’t entirely get solved until following our outing. The first pad we inspected had a building nearby with only one wall standing. We thought the other three might have just fallen down until we came across another of the same type of structure at the next pad. But why buildings with only one wall? They appeared to have HVAC components in them. We were puzzled. It was only after some online research that we ascertained ultra-high quality (UHQ) blast shields were used to protect cooling ducts at each launch pad. That’s why those edifices only had walls on one side; they were blast shields. Duh!

blast shield
Each launch pad had its own blast shield. The purpose of these one-walled oddities mystified us at first.
pad vault
Each pad included a concrete ring. These vaults served as part of the gantry platform and allowed for venting.

The gantry equipment used as scaffolding around the missiles, some of which was lying around Pad 2, also perplexed us. We had no idea what it was and thought it might have slid on the tracks running along the concrete, but it seemed too long to do so. This was another enigma internet information elucidated. Historical puzzles are a blast!

Pad 1
Missiles were loaded onto the launch pads from buildings on rails called Temperature Controlled Environment Enclosures or TCEE. These were rolled away before launch.

After that enthralling afternoon, we visited the Prehistoric Museum in Price. We’d passed this museum countless times going to Moab. It had always intrigued us, but we had never taken the time to stop. We arrived there one hour and 20 minutes before closing. While we were told the average person spends 45 minutes to an hour at the museum, I am not the average museum guest. I didn’t even make it through one of its two wings, but we did hurry through most of the Horns and Tusks section, the museum’s current temporary exhibit, shortly before closing. It covered the outlandish and whacky evolution of frills, tusks, antlers, horns, and other headgear. Cool!

TCEE grime
Nearly 50 years of desert exposure has given every surface of the only remaining TCEE a thick and crusty layer of muck.

I loved that this museum focuses on Utah from the beginnings of the Earth and includes many rock and fossil specimens specifically from the state. Jason and I will certainly be heading back to check out what we missed.

The verdict on Moab sans hiking and biking? A broken foot can halt certain activities, but it can’t halt adventure. Our Moab trip was atypical in pastimes but typical in that we had an amazing stay.

From Scandinavia to the Nethers Part III: Skagen

Jutland, the only non-island portion of Denmark, connects the country to mainland Europe. Skagen sits on its tip, Denmark’s furthest point north. Skagen is both beautiful and abrasive with pristine white sand beaches and a roaming desert called the Råbjerg Mile, the largest moving sand dune in Europe. The Råbjerg Mile was formed during the 1500s and has been inching along for centuries at a pace of 50 feet per year engulfing landmarks and infrastructure in its path. In another 100 years, it will cover the road to Skagen. This unusual place was our last Danish sojourn.

Day 6

We set out in the morning in search of Det Grå Fyr, Skagen’s famous grey lighthouse. Instead, we ended up on North Beach at one of the town’s many other lighthouses, Skagen Fyr Vest (West Lighthouse). Why the plethora of lighthouses? The Skaw Spit, a sandy underwater feature that changes with currents and weather, makes the waters around Skagen particularly dangerous and in need of a legion of lighthouses apparently. Our confusion worked out alright for us though as we found piles of captivating rocks on that beach and hit Denmark’s most northern point.

The Gray Lighthouse
The Gray Lighthouse has been warning ships away from Skagen’s turbulent shores since 1858 and is still active.

Eventually, we did make it to Det Grå Fyr. Det Grå Fyr was built in 1858 and is Denmark’s second-tallest lighthouse at 131 feet. Visitors can take 208 steps to the top where they are greeted by impressive shoreline views and gusts.

Nazi holdouts
It was odd to find the vestiges of Nazi aggression on a quiet beach.

Next, we walked out to Grenen, a journey that requires about three miles of stepping round trip on a breezy beach. What is Grenen? Grenen is a sand bar north of Skagen where the North and Baltic Seas meet in a never-ending dramatic display of ramming waves and turbulent sprays. It was trippy to watch violent breakers coming from competing directions there.

coastal heathland
Grasses and shrubs pepper the expanses of sand on Skagen’s beaches.

The natural setting at Grenen, dominated by coastal grasses and silvery sands, is at odds with the austere relics from Nazi occupation during WWII dotting the shores, concrete bunkers. Some of these structures are now partially submerged as the sand supporting them has been leisurely crawling back to the sea over decades.

Grenen
At Grenen, waves collide from opposite directions.
sinking scraps
Although the Germans built their bunkers to withstand, many have slowly been succumbing to sea and sand.

Our last outing of the day was to the Den Tilsandede Kirke (Sand-Buried Church), originally called Saint Laurence after the patron saint of sailors. The 148-foot-long and 72-foot-high structure was built between 1355 and 1387 and abandoned in 1795. Why was it abandoned? The name should give a clue. The Råbjerg Mile, that traveling mass of sand, started to submerge the building around 1600. Every week the door would have to be dug out just so worshipers could enter. Eventually, this became an unmanageable task, and Skagen’s oldest building and once largest church was forsaken and left to its gritty demise. While the structure was later largely demolished, the foundation, floor, alter, baptismal font, nine feet of the walls, and cemetery wall remain underearth along with all the cemetery’s headstones. I guess even God is beholden to nature. This discarded house of worship inspired the Hans Christian Andersen tale A Story from the Dunes.

The Sand-Buried Church
The whitewashed tower of the Sand-Buried Church is all that remains above ground.

That evening, we had a lovely dinner at Café & Restaurant Kokkenes. We laughed over childhood memories and recent vacation recollections while indulging on fish soup and orange sorbet. It was a satisfying end to our last night in Denmark.

Day 7

The next morning, we went on a rushed quest in the rain on the shores of the North Sea for lucky adder stones. Adder stones are rocks with naturally occurring holes in them. In ancient times, they were believed to be made from the hardened saliva of serpents (hence the name adder) and have magical properties. For some reason, there are a larger than normal quantity of them on the beaches around Skagen. After only a few minutes of searching, Jason got particularly good at spotting them. He found seven total and our niece located one. I found nothing. Good thing my husband believes sharing is caring.

After our hasty beach search, we departed for the Aalborg airport with a stop in the old center of the town. Though we were in a bit of a hurry, we enjoyed a walk around the Budolfi Church and the Helligåndsklostret (Aalborg Kloster), which was built in 1431. We also stopped in the Historiske Museum’s shop where we spent all our remaining kroners.

On a final Danish note, the pastries in Denmark were dependably the best we’ve had in Europe. Sorry France, you were inconsistent. Kobenhavner Tebirkes, which are comprised of a couple layers of laminated dough, a thin filling of marzipan, and a generous topping of poppy seeds were my favorite. Yum!

Amsterdam, our last destination, will be the final focus of this long-worded journey through our European exploits.

From Scandinavia to the Nethers Part II: Møn to Middelfart

Day 3… Continued

After the lag to procure another rental car, we were all off to the island of Møn. Møn is about an hour and 45 minutes from Copenhagen. It is supposedly a popular tourist destination, but it didn’t feel like it. The island is known for its white cliffs, colorful church frescos, and Stone and Bronze Age burial chambers. We thought we’d sample a bit of all of these starting with Fanefjord Church.

On the edge of Møn, atop a lonely knoll overlooking the Baltic Sea, the island of Falster, and grazing cattle sits a petite whitewashed structure, Fanefjord Kirke. While the charming surroundings of this edifice may attract some visitors, the main pull is the bright and eccentric works of art inside the building.

tales of the Elmelunde Master
Evil doers are identifiable in the Fanefjord frescoes by their short statures, open mouths, crooked noses, red hair, or faces shown in profile.

Fanefjord was built in 1250. It contains a handful of frescoes dating back to around 1350. However, its most famous ones were created by the Elmelunde Master about 1500. The identity of the mysterious Elmelunde Master has been lost to history, but it likely was more than one person.

Fanefjord Kirk
The Fanefjord Kirke isn’t located at the center of a town, like most churches, but on a solitary hill leading to legends of trolls moving the church every night during its construction.

Fanefjord’s Medieval frescoes are bizarre by modern standards. Some panels highlight important points in Jesus’ life, his circumcision for example. Others portray big no-nos sure to merit hellfire and damnation like Careless Words During Service, which depicts the devil Tutivilius recording the names of women not paying attention during church. Much of the art was meant to provide a pictorial sermon for an audience that may have been largely illiterate. Other imagery was designed to imbue magical properties to keep evil from entering the church through the apertures in the vaults.

Intriguingly, the church’s frescoes were painted over during the Reformation in the 1500s and not rediscovered until 1929 when water damage at one end of the building hinted to a colorful layer under the whitewash.

Klekkendehøj
Klekkendehøj is a twin-passage tomb with two long connected stone entrances. The terrace around the mound served an unknown purpose.

After appreciating and wondering at ceilings, we went underground to Denmark’s oldest man-made stone structures. Møn was a happening place in the Stone Age. Starting around 6,000 years ago, the island was intensely farmed. Evidence for this comes from its 120 mound, passageway, and barrow burial grounds, which represent a cult of ancestry. These tombs were constructed at a rate of one per year but were made so well that little work was needed to restore most of them even after thousands of years.

Sprove Dolmen
Sprove Dolmen sits just 500 feet from King Asgers Høj.

We crawled inside Klekkendehøj, which dates to the Neolithic period about 4,500 years ago. Inching along its twin passageways wasn’t comfortable but curiosity won, as it usually does. King Asgers Høj, the largest gallery grave in Denmark with a passageway 32 feet long, was our next stop. This 4,000-year-old mound is located close to Sprovedyssen (Sprove Dolmen), a barrow tomb with a Stonehenge feel. These Stone Age spectacles rise randomly out of fields, surroundings probably not too unlike when they were assembled.

Møns Klint
Møn was designated a biosphere reserve in 2017 by UNESCO.

Stepping further back in time, we took the Graaryg Fald Trail to Møns Klint (cliff). Møn’s cliffs are the tallest in Denmark at 420 feet. Their bleached appearance comes from their high chalk content, the leavings of the prolific marine life in a shallow sea 70 million years ago. These marine deposits were crushed and folded by the glaciers of the last ice age. Eventually, when those glaciers receded, the cliffs of Møn were revealed.

We hiked about three miles through a beech forest filled with trees more than 400 years old down to the beach at the base of the cliffs. When 500 stairsteps are required each way to reach a beach, it better be glorious, right? Don’t worry, it was. The shore was pebbled with dark flint that contrasted with the lofty ashen walls. We didn’t make it too far along the coastline as it was getting dark, and the remnants of landslides made some areas more difficult to pass with the current higher tide. Instead, we returned via the same half a thousand steps we had descended. Incidentally, signs indicated landslides are a common phenomenon along these cliffs due to heavy rain and frost erosion.

Day 4

Although there was much more to see in Møn, a picturesque castle awaited us, so the next morning we didn’t linger. Our destination was Hindsgavl Slot in Middelfart, which is on the far side of the island of Funen. Our route passed through Odense, where Hans Christian Andersen was born and spent his youth. We paid homage to this imaginative and prolific writer by visiting his childhood home (HC Andersens Barndomshjem) and birthplace (HC Andersens Hus). Odense and Hans Christian Andersen carry special meaning for my family since we are direct descendants of ancestors who lived around the corner from Hans while he resided in Odense.

Han’s childhood home
Hans Christian Andersen spent his childhood years in this home down the street from some of my ancestors.

Hindsgavl Castle, which we reached late that afternoon, was a favorite of our entire trip. Hindsgavl stands on a peninsula of the same name. It is separated from Jutland, the peninsula that connects Denmark to the rest of Europe, by the Little Belt, a twisting straight of extraordinary beauty and concentrated mist. The current castle was built in 1784 to replace another palace, which had stood since the 1200s and was the site of a peace accord between a Norwegian and a Danish monarch before it was destroyed during the Swedish War in the 1600s.

a novel estate
Since it was built in 1784, Hindsgavl’s neoclassical design could be mistaken for Pemberley or Mansfield Park.
palace adaptations
Hindsgavl Castle was revitalized in 2003.

Hindsgavl would fit perfectly in a Jane Austen novel with magnificent libraries and imposing entrance halls. As if the enchanting buildings and vast grounds weren’t enough to inspire dreams of Mr. Darcy, our dinner that night was right on brand. With berries and apples from the castle’s garden and local smoked cheese, chicken, and cured ham, our meal was as elegant as the surroundings. And yes, the boiled potatoes were excellent.

Day 5

The castle’s extensive estate features a deer park, vegetable garden, and many trails that finger out in all directions and crisscross frequently. Jason and I wanted to experience some of these, so we woke up at 6:30 to go on a walk before breakfast and our checkout. It was magical. We started on a randomly selected trail and at each intersection we took the route that seemed most likely to lead to the Little Belt. Through this method, we ended up walking along the coast as walls of fog climbed up the land like vaporous fingers intent on squeezing the tree branches. We came to a hill that looked unnaturally constructed yet seemed too large to be a burial mound. At the top we found a sign and discovered it was the remains of the medieval Hindsgavl Castle. Its once moat had narrowed to more of a ditch after almost four centuries.

mist of the belt
Morning mist both obscured and revealed the landscape along the Little Belt.
Hindsgavl’s first place
That mound, a few stones on its apex, and a narrow ditch that was once a wide moat are all that remain of the first Hindsgavl Castle.

After a delightful breakfast, there was more to explore. We visited the Little Belt again and found many bright starfish and pink jellyfish near the shore. When asked if she needed to go back to her room to take a shower, our niece responded, “Who needs hygiene when there are starfish.” We wandered the castle gardens and may have helped ourselves to a berry or two. Then, we climbed lookouts in the deer park. Although we were reluctant to leave Hindsgavl, we were beckoned on by a schedule and more awaiting marvels.

webs of the belt
Our early morning down by the Little Belt produced my favorite pictures of the entire trip.
Oh deer!
Deer were added back to Hindsgavl’s deer park in 2011, and the area was designated a nature reserve open to the public.

These marvels came in the form of Lindholm Høje and the Vikingemuseet Lindolm Høje at Aalborg. Lindholm Høje was used as a burial ground between 400 AD and 1000 AD. During those 600 years, 700 people were cremated and 41 buried there making it Denmark’s largest Iron Age and Viking burial site.

Lindolm Høje
Everchanging sand, up to 13 feet deep, has covered Lindolm Høje since ancient times.

How would anyone know how many people were cremated at a site since there would be no remains remaining? Cremation pyres of that period were often surrounded by large boulders. The shape of these encirclements was dictated by the gender of the deceased. Men’s were typically triangular or ship-shaped while women’s were oval or circular.

the beasts of the burial grounds
Lindolm Høje was used as a burial and cremation site from about 400 to 1000 AD. Now it is used for grazing goats.

The hefty stones strewn on this hillside aren’t the most remarkable piece of its history. About 1000 AD, a shifting sand dune covered the area so quickly that the type of plough used in an adjacent field was decipherable upon excavation. That sand kept the stones from being removed for farming over time. The burial grounds were rediscovered in 1889, but the site wasn’t excavated until 1952 to 1958. Nearby Vikingemuseet Lindolm Høje displays artifacts found at the site and summarizes what has been learned about Viking village life from those artifacts.

Høje hilarity
Sometimes a little silliness is in order.

Later that evening, we arrived at the wild and craggy town of Skagen (pronounced skain), which will be the subject of my next segment.