Back at the Tacoma, and after consuming breakfast a smidge late, I packed up the tent and hit the road immediately. I'd hoped to tackle a top-secret hike - to some allegedly amazing rock art - for much of the afternoon, but my late arrival back at camp left no time for such activities. Instead, I needed to turn on the afterburners to reach my next camp site; even then, I'd was almost certain I'd be arriving in the dark.
Rolling out of Snake Gulch.
Amazing how places can look so different from the air.
It took a couple hours of highway travel for me to reach the dirt that would deliver me to a camp site I wouldn't see until morning. This place was a little out of the way - and by a little, I mean, in exactly the opposite direction that I needed to go for my next rock art scavenger hunt - but I was reasonably sure it'd be worth it when I climbed out of the tent in the morning.
As the sun was setting on Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, I emptied a couple jerry cans of fuel into the Tacoma while I still had a bit of light.
An hour later - with no light left in the sky - I arrived. It wasn't just dark, it was eerie. No matter the direction, my flashlight revealed nothing. Flipping on the Diode Dynamics SS5 lights - essentially, two small suns - on the bumper of the Tacoma, I was rewarded with blackness.
Had I finally done it? Had I reached the end of our flat Earth? Would I be the one to prove science wrong?
During the night...
I was very careful when I rose in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Didn't want to fall of the edge (of the Earth).
Carry on.
The following morning...
I knew immediately that this spot wasn't going to be the discovery that made me famous. Science was still science. The Earth is round.
I did, however, revel in my location. It'd looked amazing when I'd discovered it on satellite imagery, and in person it was only better. Grabbing every bit of photographic equipment I had in the Tacoma, I realized that I was - sort of - capturing the edge of the Earth. An edge that stretched out - as a narrow finger - into the Grand Canyon.
"Found a nice camp site."
(might be the understatement of the year, and it's only January)
For the next hour, I scurried around with the camera and burned through batteries with the drone as the sun rose toward - and then crested - the horizon. Here's a bit of what I was able to enjoy.
Watch your step.
I don't usually chock my tires, but it seemed like a good decision as the landscape lightened.
A long way down.
Capturing a place like this is nearly impossible. Differences in scale are so large that people - and trucks - are completely lost in the resolution of it all. Still, I did my best to try to capture how grand this place - just a finger into the canyon - actually was. I was a blip, and nothing more.
Looking over swaths of red, orange, and blue.
From a distance.
Road to the rim.
Private paradise.
My time behind the viewfinder - and fumbling around with the controls of the flying camera as though I'm in my 40s - meant that it was nearly 9:00am by the time I finally changed out of my pajamas and got myself on the road for my final day of the trip. My flight out of Las Vegas would be wheels up in 12 hours, but I had a lot to accomplish before I was on my way home.
Headed off the rim, I finally got a look at the colorful landscape I'd missed the previous evening.
Patches of sun, through a mostly cloudy sky, made for a dramatic drive.
Back on the highway, I retraced the entirety of the route I'd driven the evening before, delighted with my decision to venture the wrong direction - for what is undoubtedly one of the top 10 places in which I'll ever camp - even if it meant I'd spend a few extra hours driving to my trailhead for the day.
Technically, my trailhead was a series of parking areas and pullouts below the Vermilion Cliffs of the Moccasin Mountains, where I told myself that I could spend no more than an hour searching for rock art.
Quickening my pace, I hurried toward the first site.
High sun panel, under cloudy skies.
Man with a Tan.
Lower corner petroglyphs.
Sharpening grooves.
These interesting grooves were above the sharpening grooves.
Of course, I knew - even as I made up the self-imposed time limit - there was no way I'd be done in an hour. And, after the climb to the first panel consumed 30 minutes, I reminded myself of the miscalculation I'd made the previous day. Surely, I couldn't allow that to happen again. Probably. Or maybe there was a good chance I would.
Overthinking it would get me nowhere, I realized, as I spotted this inaccessible panel high on the sandstone wall.
Sheep and deer.
Working my way to the second site on my list was much easier than the first, and as I completed my climb, a duo of short round walls - perhaps the remnants of a kiva - caught me off guard. This was a site I'd known was special for its petroglyphs, but in all my research, I'd not caught wind of the ruins.
Round ruins.
Glass half full.
Big Foot, Many Toes. (left) | Look Mike @mk5, it's another Cactus! (right)
Basket Panel.
Basket Panel closeups.
Hunter.
Pregnant coyote?
Making my way along the base of the cliffs, the petroglyphs weren't the only view to soak in. Even with cloudy skies, the red rock of the Arizona Strip made for beautiful surroundings.
Canyon view.
Rainbow sheep.
I spotted this figure and knew I needed to take a closer look, since something looked a little off with the body.
Was the body missing and appendages added by artist, or did the body fall out as the rock as chipped? Whatever the case, it was neat!
Big Hand panel.
Trolls.
Does this pen chisel work?
So far, everything I'd found had been on one side of the wash. Wandering my way to the other, I quickly discovered a couple more panels, including one of pictographs, high in a sheltered alcove!
I really liked the water staining and relief of the sandstone alcove itself.
Red Scepter.
By now, more than two hours had passed since my personal resolution to spend only an hour wandering through the red rock washes. It was time well spent as far as I was concerned, but my stomach wasn't so sure. As with the day before, I'd deprived it of breakfast, though this time I'd done so purposefully.
I wanted to have plenty of room for nachos. Specifically, those from Tacos Plaza in St. George.
I needed an empty stomach if I had any chance of finishing this two-serving-size-trough of nacho goodness.
With more food in my stomach than I'd had all week, it was finally time to head into Vegas. There were some logistics I wanted to take care of, and my later-than-usual flight home was the perfect opportunity to do so!
Didn't expect to see an entire train of these roll by, but I wasn't complaining when it did!
Arriving in my little corner of Sin City four hours before I needed to be at the airport, I spent the time tending to the truck. A good wash and vacuum, some fuel, and an inventory that was long past due were the order of the evening. I'd also hoped to measure the climate control blower motor for a custom cabin air filter, but that would have to wait for another (warmer) time.
The Whole Story
Wow!
Well said. 😁 👍
The camp spot on the rim should be at the end of the article. Jumped to Google Sat views to search for it, covered a good bit of where I thought it might be, but no luck, so back to the search later. Which meant it was quite awhile before I got back to finish the rock art part of the story. Jealous of you down there enjoying the scenery and rock art.
Home projects keeping me here for a bit longer. Will have to add Taco Plaza to my list, my go to place is Alfredo's A Mexican Food in Hurricane, but nice to have another choice.
I'll put Alfredo's on the list for the future; always nice to have a backup as you mention. Burritos are good at Tacos Plaza as well (or at least, with Carne Asada is good).
I'm sure you'll find the spot. Couple clues in the story as far as general location go, and there are only so many fingers into the canyon. Great place to spend the morning, for sure!