There's a House on Fire in Mule Canyon | R&R 4

Just as I was nodding off after a peaceful day of hiking Road Canyon, I realized that it was Friday night - a fact that was interesting only in that it meant that the following day was Saturday. Now, bear with me because I'm going to spend entirely too much time making this point. You see, Saturday itself wasn't all that interesting, rather, it was the fact that it was a weekend. And even the fact that it was a weekend wasn't very interesting, except for the fact that I'd planned to hike the South Fork of Mule Canyon - in search of the plentiful ruins there, including the popular "House on Fire." Of course, like the weekend, the notability of the South Fork of Mule Canyon wouldn't normally keep me up at night, except for the fact that the trailhead is less than half a mile from the highway. And therein lies the rub: I'd planned a popular trailhead, near the highway, on a weekend.

Dang.

It was a situation I could have easily avoided by rearranging my itinerary in any number of ways. None of my other trails were nearly as accessible or popular, and any of them - with the exception of The Citadel - could have been executed on a Saturday morning with little risk of seeing another human.

There was only one solution that I could see, and that was to set my alarm so early that I could complete the entire 11-mile hike by noon, in the hopes that I'd only run into throngs of people as I was returning.

Of course, I'd planned for the hike to take most of the day, so I wasn't sure what I'd do after lunch, but I could deal with that when the time came, and if I was somehow able to pull it off.

Less than fully rested - and not all that happy to be climbing out of the tent at 4:30am - I set about my usual morning chores of eating donettes (more enjoyable) and putting away the tent (less enjoyable). With sunrise at 6:00am, and what I estimated to be one hour between my camp site and the trailhead, I pulled out at 5:02am, making my way east on Poison Springs Road towards the pavement of UT-261 and ultimately UT-95.

Naturally I'd forgotten to take into account the making of my lunch prior to embarking on my impossible conquest of the South Fork of Mule Canyon, so it wasn't 6:15am that I actually got onto the trail. Still, I was the only one parked at the trailhead, so that was a plus.

As I mentioned, there are a series of ruins and rock art along the 11-mile route, and the first of these is the House on Fire about a mile into the trek. This one is best visited - at least this time of year - around noon, in order to capture the reflected light that sets the ceiling ablaze, which is part of why I hoped to be back here in just a few hours. Still, if I've learned one thing over the years, it is that it's always better to take photos when you can; you never really know what the conditions will be like later or even if some other opportunity will change your plans/route altogether!

And so, I stopped for a few minutes to capture the House (not) on Fire.

It was nearly another mile from the House on Fire to the second ruin. Nestled into a long, shallow, curving alcove, it was a small structure with two walls, a window, and a striking, water-stained sandstone cliff towering overhead.

By now, the sun had risen off the horizon and given my generally westerly direction, was illuminating the canyon in front of me - without blinding me in the process - a brilliant orange. I continued as quickly as I could, knowing that every minute counted in my race against time.

Before long I arrived at the third major set of ruins. One of the larger sites, I scrambled up the steep slickrock to the bench just below the ruins before reaching an unassailable overhang that prevented entry to the actual site.

As I spotted the next ruin, even moving as quickly as I was, it was already nearing 8:00am. This was both good and bad news - good in that I was a little more than halfway through the 5.5-mile "out" portion of the trail, bad in that it meant that the masses were likely waking up and wondering what they'd eat for breakfast before heading my direction.

Just past more distinctive vertical black streaks down the sandstone walls, I once again scaled a steep section of slickrock slope to the shelf just below the ruins. Unlike the third ruins, a small pine offered a single point of access up the final cliff face, allowing access to the collapsing kiva and its cracked tower granary above.

After retracing my steps to the wash, I headed upstream. As with the other canyons I'd visited, the South Fork of Mule Canyon was flush with water - pools more than four feet deep contained thousands of gallons and portions of the creek trickled between pools, spilling over usually-dry falls.

Set back into an alcove on a bench, only my pre-trip research enabled my discovery of the next set of ruins. Like the rest, this first required a trek to the uppermost Cedar Mesa sandstone layer - a longer and longer climb as I progressed up the canyon - before the final push up a steep, slippery crack to the ruins and a special treat!

This site turned out to be more extensive than most of the others, the upper level overlooking a second level of ruins below, and each level containing petroglyph panels and mortero.

it was about this point that I began to get a little anxious about the time.

To the kiva ruin there'd been a reasonably clear - if slightly fading - trail, but beyond that I struggled to follow a well-defined path. Likely this was due to a combination of the early spring flow, which was quite obviously well above the level of the trail - given the detritus piled up against the tree trunks - and the fact that there's always an inverse ratio between the length of a trail and number of people who are willing to continue to any given point.

Unfortunately for me, that meant that my pace slowed dramatically, as I had to pick my way through underbrush and weave my way back and forth across the wet-and-muddy wash. Still, the lure of the next two ruins were enough that I never seriously considered turning back - even if it meant that I'd miss the late morning light at the House on Fire.

Eventually, I peeled out of the main canyon in favor of a half-mile detour up a tributary wash. Here, any semblance of a trail was but a figment of one's imagination, and it was only by following my GPS that I eventually found my way to the base of a nearly vertical wall and one of the most unusual ruins I've ever seen.

Unlike most ruins that are built into reasonably large alcoves, Wall Ruin is built on narrow ledges and amongst fantastic mosaics of tafoni. Posts protrude from the structures - and sandstone wall itself - once the support structure for an elaborate series of scaffolding and ladders that allowed inhabitants access to each of the levels.

Today, with the scaffolding gone, only the lower level is accessible, an only via a reasonably tall crack climb. Having gotten this far, I unloaded most of my camera gear and scooted my way up.

Though only the lowest level was accessible, it was amazing to see how far the rooms of the ruin extended into the wall. Apparently, there are a series of passageways that lead even deeper, but - as we all should - I refrained from entering the inner rooms, as doing so can accelerate their deterioration. Please - if you visit - do the same.

As I emerged from the side canyon, it was 10:45am. Having covered nearly five miles from the mouth of the canyon, I'd decided that I needed a little more than an hour - as I wouldn't be stopping to investigate ruins on the way back - to cover the four miles back to House on Fire, which I wanted to reach by noon.

That was all well and good, except for the fact that the final ruin - one I knew I couldn't reach, but that was interesting even from the wash below - was another third of a mile away.

I wouldn't say I was jogging - there were way too many branches and bushes to dodge - but I certainly wasn't dawdling. And then, I spotted it!

This ruin - known as Doorway Ruin - is intriguing for the wooden slats that still hang in its door. These weren't the primary method of closure - a more typical stone is also visible through the opening - but perhaps they provided additional shade in the heat of the afternoon sun, or allowed for airflow as a breeze drafted through the canyon. Whatever their purpose, I found myself glad that this site was inaccessible, as surely the temptation to touch the slats would be too much for most to resist.

I only spent a few minutes below the Doorway Ruin, but nonetheless I was sure that I'd blown my chance at catching the reflected light of House on Fire. Too stubborn to admit defeat, I pulled the second sandwich from my pack - I'd eaten the first as breakfast as I embarked on this crazy adventure - and consumed it in rapid fashion as stumbled my way down the overgrown wash.

I saw only two pairs of hikers in the 62 minutes that it took me to cover the distance between the Doorway and House on Fire. Stopping for a couple minutes each time - to share greetings and marvel at the beauty of our surroundings - both pairs volunteered their displeasure at the crowds they'd encountered - and left behind - at the House on Fire.

I braced myself for the worst, glad that I'd modified my schedule to avoid the mayhem.

And then, I arrived. And I was the only one there.

I don't know if I missed the best time of day or if the plethora of people showed up to early, but somehow my timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Smiling as I snapped a few shots, I realized that my good fortune now presented a new problem - what the heck was I going to do with the rest of my Saturday? And with that, my smile grew even larger - because there's no better problem to have when you find yourself in the canyons of Cedar Mesa.

 

 

The Whole Story