The route back to Bozeman
After I got off the river at the Grand Canyon, I drove to Moab, Utah, where I have a friend from my days working outdoor education in southern California. Pete and I went swimming in Mill Creek (water + slickrock = awesome plunge pools) and checked out the sunset from the top of a dome of the Navajo Sandstone north of town. We had dinner at the Moab Brewing Company, which was delicious. The next morning, I checked my e-mail and got an oil change, then went up to Arches National Park to pay homage to Edward Abbey by taking a hike to Delicate Arch. They even have a small exhibit in the visitor center about Cactus Ed -- a nice acknowledgment on the part of the park that his book Desert Solitaire piqued interest in the park for many people.
After my hike, I got back in the car, and headed north to the interstate, then east into Colorado. Past Grand Junction and Delta, to the little town of Montrose, where I got final supplies for a couple of days in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. I pulled in relatively late in the day, so just settled into the campsite. It felt good to be camping at high elevation, with cool temperatures, again. The next day, however, July 4th, I spent in exploring the park. I was surprised to learn that there is no trail down to the bottom of the canyon from the rim, but they do let people descend via "the Gunnison Route," a steep-ass ditch full of loose scree and talus. It was pretty sketchy, and pretty exhausting: not much fun. I kept thinking "there has to be a better way to do this." The reward was at the bottom, where the Gunnison River runs cool and fast. The Gunnison has carved an incredible gorge here: steep, deep, and with a steep river profile. It's a classic case of steam superposition over a buried Laramide uplift. During the recent episode of uplift, the Gunnison cut down through overlying sedimentary strata (including the Entrada Formation's pink sandstone, visible on the north rim) and into the underlying Mazatzal-aged (~1.7 Ga) igneous and metamorphic complex. This resistant rock is what makes up most of the canyon. It looks a lot like the Grand Canyon's inner gorge, with pink ribbons of granite leaping through the amphibolite-grade metamorphics. Anyhow, the river was very refreshing. I rested there for a while, and ate some lunch (tortillas from nearby Olathe, Colorado, wrapped around mozzarella and turkey pepperoni.) The hike back up was a big slog, and about as enjoyable as the hike down ("There has to be a better way of doing this!") Up top, I drove the road along the south rim, admiring the various viewpoints into the chasm and taking small hikes.
The following morning, I packed up camp early, and drove all day. I went west back to Grand Junction, and took a cool little road (Route 139) north over Thompson Pass and through some cool BLM land, replete with pictographs. I got some GREAT gas mileage after Thompson Pass, basically crusing downhill at 100 m.p.g. for over an hour. Awesome! Then through Dinosaur, into Vernal, Utah, and then into Wyoming at Flaming Gorge.
At Rock Springs, Wyoming, I went north on 191, through Pinedale (nearby Fremont Lake is the type location for Pinedale Till, the Rocky Mountain version of the Wisconsin Glaciation), and up to Jackson. Man, Jackson's a tourist trap! Yikes! Not as bad as Vegas, but I definitely didn't linger with the sunburnt hordes there. I had a date with the Gros Ventre landslide. Just northeast of Kelly, Wyoming, this is a classic location in the study of mass wasting events. I camped on the lake created by the 1925 landslide, and spent the next morning photographing the scar and debris pile which dammed the Gros Ventre River. Unlike the Madison River's landslide and resulting "quake lake," no one was killed with the initial earth movement at Gros Ventre, but when the dam failed two years later, the resulting flood drowned six people in Kelly. I first learned about the Gros Ventre slide as an undergraduate, and I teach about it today, so it was a real pleasure to see it firsthand.
Next morning, a ho-hum commute through Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks and up into Bozeman.
After my hike, I got back in the car, and headed north to the interstate, then east into Colorado. Past Grand Junction and Delta, to the little town of Montrose, where I got final supplies for a couple of days in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. I pulled in relatively late in the day, so just settled into the campsite. It felt good to be camping at high elevation, with cool temperatures, again. The next day, however, July 4th, I spent in exploring the park. I was surprised to learn that there is no trail down to the bottom of the canyon from the rim, but they do let people descend via "the Gunnison Route," a steep-ass ditch full of loose scree and talus. It was pretty sketchy, and pretty exhausting: not much fun. I kept thinking "there has to be a better way to do this." The reward was at the bottom, where the Gunnison River runs cool and fast. The Gunnison has carved an incredible gorge here: steep, deep, and with a steep river profile. It's a classic case of steam superposition over a buried Laramide uplift. During the recent episode of uplift, the Gunnison cut down through overlying sedimentary strata (including the Entrada Formation's pink sandstone, visible on the north rim) and into the underlying Mazatzal-aged (~1.7 Ga) igneous and metamorphic complex. This resistant rock is what makes up most of the canyon. It looks a lot like the Grand Canyon's inner gorge, with pink ribbons of granite leaping through the amphibolite-grade metamorphics. Anyhow, the river was very refreshing. I rested there for a while, and ate some lunch (tortillas from nearby Olathe, Colorado, wrapped around mozzarella and turkey pepperoni.) The hike back up was a big slog, and about as enjoyable as the hike down ("There has to be a better way of doing this!") Up top, I drove the road along the south rim, admiring the various viewpoints into the chasm and taking small hikes.
The following morning, I packed up camp early, and drove all day. I went west back to Grand Junction, and took a cool little road (Route 139) north over Thompson Pass and through some cool BLM land, replete with pictographs. I got some GREAT gas mileage after Thompson Pass, basically crusing downhill at 100 m.p.g. for over an hour. Awesome! Then through Dinosaur, into Vernal, Utah, and then into Wyoming at Flaming Gorge.
At Rock Springs, Wyoming, I went north on 191, through Pinedale (nearby Fremont Lake is the type location for Pinedale Till, the Rocky Mountain version of the Wisconsin Glaciation), and up to Jackson. Man, Jackson's a tourist trap! Yikes! Not as bad as Vegas, but I definitely didn't linger with the sunburnt hordes there. I had a date with the Gros Ventre landslide. Just northeast of Kelly, Wyoming, this is a classic location in the study of mass wasting events. I camped on the lake created by the 1925 landslide, and spent the next morning photographing the scar and debris pile which dammed the Gros Ventre River. Unlike the Madison River's landslide and resulting "quake lake," no one was killed with the initial earth movement at Gros Ventre, but when the dam failed two years later, the resulting flood drowned six people in Kelly. I first learned about the Gros Ventre slide as an undergraduate, and I teach about it today, so it was a real pleasure to see it firsthand.
Next morning, a ho-hum commute through Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks and up into Bozeman.
Labels: colorado, montana, national parks, travel, utah, wyoming
3 Comments:
Ironic...No doubt ole Ranger Abbey would be disgusted with the new visitor center and the paved roads and the visitors who do a drive through without ever leaving their cars.
I live in Montrose and can tell you that there are no easier ways into the inner canyon. However, the little talk by the ranger when you get your inner canyon permit sure cuts down on visitation.
On your way north from Grand Junction, Colorado I strongly suspect you passed over Douglas Pass (not Thompson Pass) on your way to Rangely, CO and Dinosaur NM. We go that way on our field camp each summer. Here's a GigaPan I shot just south of the summit this year; see if it looks familiar: Douglas Pass GigaPan.
Do your plans still take you through Kansas on your return trip back East at the end of the summer? I think I'll be around this time to show you some chalk badlands and host you if you need a place to stay overnight.
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