a peek toward Salt Creek
Peekaboo Spring is the end of the road. And I suppose I could have driven there, save for the fact that my truck was heavily loaded with belongings. Instead, I took a walk from Squaw Flat Campground and five miles later found myself at a trailhead, complete with parked trucks and loud visitors.
The biggest attraction of Peekaboo Spring is the rock art that graces a point of rock that sticks out into the drainage and forces Salt Creek to make a large U. A line of painted dots and two white shield figures partly obscure older, faded, and more sinister figures painted in brown. People have been here a long time.
rock art at Peekaboo Spring
note the faint brown figures
A few hours later I found the perfect camp in a side drainage off of Salt Creek. Rain was predicted for the night, and I found a huge boulder with overhung space beneath it… large enough for my tent and I, and remarkably free of packrat tracks or droppings. There was a an arch high on the distant redrock horizon. My legs were tired and there was hours until sunset. I wished I’d brought a book. Life was good.
shade and rain shelter
morning view from camp
The next day was one of memories. At the top of the side canyon, I found the spot where, years ago, I found my first spotted owl. Well, in truth, she found me–whistled at me in full daylight. But that’s another story. But still, I found the tree and the exact spot where I had been standing. Fifteen years and nothing looked that different. I wouldn’t have been surprised to have found my boot prints.
And further down the canyon, another spot where I watched a mother owl feeding two fluffy owlets as morning light painted the canyon walls orange. A magical moment. I found that juniper, too. But no owls.
At one point in my wanderings, I noticed a line of white dots on a rock face… much like those at Peekaboo Spring. Further investigation yielded a couple of figures on another panel. One was a faded, white snake, and the other was a sheep or goat. This was one of my favorite finds of the trip. What does this Anasazi art mean?
a pointilist goat... sheep?
The end of my day was a reconnaissance mission to the very top of the side canyon to see if maybe, just maybe, I could find a route that would cut through back to Salt Creek Canyon. The map suggested the possibility, but I have been in this country enough to know that the contour lines can hide many a impassable wall. But it was worth a try.
Turns out there were several impassable walls. I studied the benches carefully, and saw a few places that might lead a seasoned climber/scrambler up, but in the end decided that backtracking was the better option. So much for a loop hike. I would have been doing my climbing with a fully loaded pack, and no one knew where I really was. Still, it was pretty country there–soaring red cliff faces and spires. And the attempt made me feel alive.
Day three found me hiding my big pack in Salt Creek Canyon and strolling up canyon carrying some water, food, compass, and the map. The higher parts of Salt Creek, just north of the Angel Arch side canyon, twist back and forth like a snake in the rock art (maybe there’s a connection…) and is beautiful to walk. Furthermore, the area around Angel Arch is full of Anasazi ruins and rock art. It makes for fantastic investigation. I climbed up to several rock art panels, and by glassing and re-glassing one rocky point, just caught the dark square of a doorway–this little site was amazing…little cobs of corn still in the granary, and five hand outlines above the structure.
granary and hand outlines
1200 year old (?) corn cob
On my way back down, I scrambled up to a white outline of a hand and forearm. I was a little disappointed that there weren’t any other panels or rock art near it… but then I noticed some piled, flat rocks that looked like a collapsed structure, and in among these I found some pottery shards. I’ve never found pottery shards before, and it was pretty cool. Laying in the dust, little pieces of something made by those same hands that I see outlined in white paint in secret places in these canyons. How many years old?
pottery shards
The last day is always hard. Tiredness is a factor, of course, but the brain also tends to wander. Thoughts of real food, cold drinks, and other facets of syphillization intrude on the part of you that is able to appreciate the present. You are still outside in beautiful country, the mountains still shine with snow, and red rocks reach toward and endless sky, but somehow the mind wanders. It’s inevitable. But even though it is a relief and joy to see the truck at the trailhead, it still saddened me to leave the canyon country. Good memories, good adventures. It’s funny how a place can feel like home.
Sad to part, but I’ll be back.
What the Owl Knows 