Eight Days at the “Edge of Nowhere”

You aren’t going to the middle of nowhere; you are going to the edge of nowhere.” –Older river guide extraordinaire I know

For my whirl around the sun, I like to go somewhere away from cell reception, online resources, and any possibility I’ll be online in any way, shape, or form.

Joan and I want to revisit a place I’ve seen before, but know there’s always more to see. And see places new to us.

We went to a place that’s a five-hour drive from us with three hours on dirt roads, but not very far away by that metaphorical crow.

When I told a very well-known river guide in this area that we planned to go to the “Middle of nowhere,” he corrected me gently about where we were going, which was the “Edge of nowhere.” It later occurred to us, via another friend, that we drive to the edge of nowhere so we can get into the middle of nowhere.

We reviewed maps, delved into guidebooks, consulted historical information, and plotted out an eight-day trip that would be a mix of backpacking and camping.

From Joan

We’d walk to the wild places, only spoke to someone the first day, and a couple of vehicles drove by our campsite otherwise.

Our first night found us leaving work, driving up the mountains for an evening, and then returning to the desert, where we enjoyed the quiet of this land of pines.

We had a leisurely morning the following day and slept in a bit, enjoyed the cool, mountain air, and I savored the simple joy of coffee while reading a book.

With no rush to cram things into a day or two, we could savor our gift of time.

We then drove to the desert area, found a campsite, and set up our base for a longer day hike the following day.

Some cold drinks, an enjoyable meal, and a desert sunset greeted us for the cooler evening.

Oh, and the first of my birthday cheesecake for this night in camp!

One of the other evenings in camp. The cooler kept us flush in cheesecake for camping nights!

The following day, we drove to the mouth of the canyon, where there was no definable trail, and used a map, compass, and GPS to navigate our way to a potential break in the canyon cliff that would lead us to what we sought.

Long before we encountered an old, lichen-covered cairn, we spotted other signs that we had found the correct path to the canyon floor.

The desert in spring brought about many delights as well.

We worked our way down the levels, spotted a series of old cairns, and made our way to the shade, water, and the bottom of a side canyon that fed into the main canyon.

Meandering down the canyon, we came to a pour-off, looked up, and saw what we had come to see—a cliffside complex tucked up on the canyon wall.

We saw an amazingly intact kiva, and I only went as far as my zoom lens would allow me to get a photo. To my untrained eye, it did not appear to be any obvious reconstruction. I could not easily peek in and wondered what might be inside. To quote a favorite song, “I’ll just let the mystery be..”

I walked around a bit on the cliff wall, found a granary, and saw some 80-year-old rancher glyphs from those who also enjoyed this remote spot.

No doubt they enjoyed the views from above the canyon floor.

We left the complex and worked our way back out of the canyon and to our waiting truck.

We took a slightly different way back and, not far from our truck, noticed a mound of stones, sherds, and a specific alignment.

The nearby dirt road existed as a travel path in one form or another for generations before we came through this area.

We got back to our campsite, had more cheesecake (of course!), and packed up for some backpacking.

We planned to walk up a mesa top to reach a spot overlooking the Colorado River and the well-known Cataract Canyon.

Due to the location of our campsite, we found it quicker and easier to walk back along the road rather than drive.

The lack of tracks and well-established plant life, as well as the biocrust, indicated how infrequently this road is traveled.

As before, we had ample evidence of how long these paths had been traveled, whether in ages long ago….

…or in somewhat more recent times.

We ambled along and found the break that would lead us to a lower part of the mesa with its views both familiar yet different.

Not even a cairn or faint footprints led the way.

The winds picked up, and rain appeared to be moving in on the horizon.

And in the nooks and crannies of these mesa top formations, we found, as usual, that the lesser-known places had people here long ago.

The masonry seemed more than just functional and struck an aesthetically pleasing form, which remains so hundreds of years later.

We continued in the rain and the wind but enjoyed the rugged scenery of this part of the Colorado Plateau.

The clouds lifted not long before we reached our goal and saw the mighty Colorado below and “The Maze” in the near distance.

A view well worth the effort to get there, and a memorable place to call home for the evening.

A large pinyon provided some suitable duff for our home for the evening.

I had to get one last look towards the river, “The Maze”, and other familiar places.

We made our way back, walked to our waiting truck, and had another relaxing night at camp.

The following day, we embarked on another backpacking trip to a place I had recently visited and one that Joan also wanted to see.

We made our way down the old stock trail that led to the creek bottom below.

We wandered and visited places I had seen before, as well as places I had not spotted on my previous visit.

We then made our way to a place that loomed large in my memories from a previous trip, and one I wanted Joan to see.

The structures in the alcove revealed details I had not noticed before during that first visit.

I enjoyed revisiting places I had previously remembered.

We continued our journey and looked at the images along the cliff walls.

Joan noticed some images I had not seen previously as well –

And a panel that I had wanted to see again –

We continued hiking along, and I scrambled up to some structures I had not seen previously –

We continued along and came to an overlook of another canyon, and then onto a wider area.

A different type of structure, but also impressive.

As before, the structures were located in places that offer views over the general area.

We camped out another night in the pinyon for another peaceful evening.

We headed back the same way at a less meandering pace but continued to enjoy the views.

We made our way out, spotted places we’d need to check out on a future trip, and headed back to the truck.

We had one last night of camping at a higher elevation.

We made one last comfortable camp, took a sponge bath, enjoyed the last of our cold drinks, and took it all in among the pines. We had pancakes and coffee as another leisurely breakfast the following day.

On our last morning, it told us how easy it would be to go into town, shower, resupply, and do it all over again. We did not feel the pull of heading back to Moab, but wanted to stay out longer as there is always more to see, ramble around, and savor.

In a post online, I made this comment to my friend on her observation on how nice it is to leave reality behind –

“Many years ago, when my beard was all black, I saw an AT thru-hiker not much older than I am now while on a weekend in New Hampshire. It was my first year of backpacking.
..
I was perhaps 30 minutes from the trailhead. I spoke to the AT traveler, resignedly said, “Back to reality.” He looked at me, pointed his hiking stick towards the nearby Kinsman Mountains, and said, “THAT’S REALITY.” He then pointed down the bike path that led to the trailhead and said, “THAT’S CHAOS.” He then continued north to Maine.”

Joan and I always look forward to reality.

Here’s an interesting and short video about the T-shaped doors and the Pueblo world in general. Some of the footage from the excellent Edge of the Cedars State Park Museum in Blanding, UT –

A bonus, here’s one from the same gentleman on the museum itself –