Ruins of Cottonwood Canyon | Wanderings #2

High-tailing it out of Water Canyon - after getting turned around by a flash flood in the narrows on our first attempt to reach the White Domes - we had about half the day remaining and found ourselves in a predicament. As usual, I'd fully overbooked our time in Utah, so if we had any hope of returning to Water Canyon the next day - when it wasn't raining - we needed to accomplish whatever I'd planned to do then, now.

Or, not. We could decide to just skip something, like normal people.

Now, if there's one thing that's been beaten into my noggin over the years, it is that I am not normal. I won't get into all the ways that people have told me - or insinuated - this fact, but I can assure you that others often know you better than you know yourself.

And with that, we were headed east. Our destination - about an hour away - was one that I'd somehow stumbled upon while doing other research, and had piqued my interest immediately.

This wonderful site near Kanab, UT is one of the few cliff dwellings in the area. It is a difficult (approximately) 7 1/2-mile round trip hike and a person will likely only average just over a mile per hour. Well worth it!Maven

There were no photos of the site, and the remainder of the trip report seemed to be hard-to-follow directions, but after some significant time in Google Earth, I thought I had it mostly figured out. Sort of. At least in a "what could possibly go wrong?" sort of way. Hopefully.

It was still cloudy as we neared the trailhead, but the red rocks were still looking sharp against the dark sky.

The first bit of the instructions to achieve the ruins read as follows: "After wallowing around a while on the sandy track next to the highway, you will find the only place where you can easily 4WD across Kanab Creek." In fact, we found the crossing with relative ease, but I can assure you that there was no way the Tacoma was making it across. Much like the quicksand I'd encountered earlier in the day, this was a 50-foot wide quagmire. As I gingerly took my first step - and began to sink - I knew that our heavy beast was staying high and dry and out of the recently-flooded wash.

So, after parking the Tacoma, we wandered around for a bit, eventually finding a way across on foot, where we could begin the next step of our journey:

First priority is to scramble to the top of the rim on the north side of Trail Canyon. You will (as per usual) constantly be thinking "this must be the top", but it isn't. If you began to get vertical ASAP, you're on the right track. Eventually, find a tepee-shaped white dome rock formation and head for the deep red rocks directly above and northwest of the tepee. Shortly thereafter you reach a fence and the top.

You've covered only about 3/4 mi. from bottom to top, but it will take close to an hour.

On our way up.

We found bits and pieces of a trail, thankful for the stretches that broke up the "vertical."

Success! The white dome rock formation!

As we neared the top, a nice view through a step in the white sandstone ridge.

A great view of the Grey Cliffs, White Cliffs, and Vermilion Cliffs to the northeast.

Upon reaching the top of the plateau, I'd hoped that the going would get easier. Even though we'd be bushwhacking cross-country, we simply needed to follow the lip of Trail Canyon to the west. Of course, that's much easier to do in satellite imagery than it is on the ground, and our progress remained slow as we picked our way through sage, and kept an eye on the ever-changing situation in the sky.

There were plenty of seed pods (left), and lots of Narrowleaf Yucca (Yucca angustissima) (right) as we traversed the plateau.

We just happened to stumble on this survey marker.

After another hour - it was now a little after 3:00pm - we emerged from the juniper and sage, the rim of Cottonwood Canyon dropping precipitously before us. We were close, and the hunt was on!

Cottonwood spillover.

Picking a direction, we began working our way along the edge. This was much more difficult than our traverse of the plateau; there, we were able to keep our distance from the undulating edge, but here it was important to have a view over the rim at all times, lest the elusive alcove evade our search.

In fact, the going was tough enough that @mrs.turbodb - still feeling a bit under the weather - opted to wait at a landmark we'd seen on the outbound hike, while I crossed my fingers for a successful hunt.

I struggled over the terrain for half an hour or so before I spotted an alcove that looked extremely promising. The colorful foliage obscured most of the alcove floor, but as I worked my way along the adjacent rim, I finally got a peek at the secrets within!

Jackpot!

Bird's-eye view.

It was about this time that I happened to glance out over Cottonwood Canyon and noticed that the rain wasn't done for the day. Racing towards me - and surely @mrs.turbodb as she sat waiting for my return - was a deluge of water; wind driving the rain down in waves, sure to soak anyone in its path.

This is when I realized I had about two minutes to get into the alcove.

I didn't make it into the alcove before pea-sized drops of water - on near-horizontal trajectories - were pelting me as I raced off the rim, slipping and sliding down the rocky wall of the canyon along the only human-passable route I could see. Pushing through a grove of wet Oak trees, I eventually emerged at one edge of the alcove. I was soaked.

I didn't care. I'd found it!

Largest granary.

The back room.

Different door styles.

I really liked this circular granary.

Sharpening grooves.

Ribbed mortar.

Bones of the building.

Collected sherds.
(Don't do this, it's better to leave them where they lay.)

Knowing that my hiking companion was likely cold, wet, and ready to head back, I tried to keep my time in the alcove to a minimum. After about 10 minutes, I knew I'd probably wish I'd had a few more angles, but I began my climb back to the rim of the canyon and toward the rendezvous we'd agreed upon when we split up.

Parting view.

I found her - rather chilly and having constructed a campfire-sized lean-to - at the exact location we'd agreed upon, and soon we were warming up as we made good time, back toward the trailhead.

This little guy watched us approach for quite a way before bounding off. (Mule deer - Odocoileus hemionus)

Stormy view.

Vermilion Cliffs double rainbow.

We spotted this alcove far below us on the way back, but after some digital exploration - to save ourselves scrambling up and down - we determined it to be ruinless.

With just more than four miles to cover, it took us a couple hours to race our way back to the trailhead, and we arrived just as the sun was setting, its long rays reaching out under the still-cloudy sky, painting it a myriad of brilliant pastels.

Kanab sunset.

Now nearly 7:00pm - on a day we'd begun some 15 hours earlier, after 5 hours of sleep, and in an entirely different state - it was nice to climb into the cab, fire up the heater, and rest our weary legs.

But that didn't mean we were done. In fact, we were headed back to the place where we'd started the day, hoping the next morning would bring redemption in our quest to conquer Water Canyon and reach the White Domes.

 

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