napatony13
Member
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2021
- Messages
- 200
I’ve wanted to visit the Harvest Panel in Canyonlands for a number of years, but seeing videos of the drive out there made me shy away. I have a 4x4 Tacoma with a bit of lift in it, but that road still worried me. I’d even considered driving as far as practical from Hite and mountain biking the rest of the way, but lacking a bike put a crimp in that idea. But earlier this year when I saw that it was possible to get as far as Spanish Bottom via jet boat I knew that was my opportunity. I drafted my youngest son to accompany me and started making plans.
I contacted Tex’s Riverways and got their schedule, then was online the minute October permits became available to snag my backcountry pass. My backpacking experience is pretty limited, so I only reserved for 2 nights. In retrospect with all the trouble getting there I should have made it for longer, but I’ve never learned to slow down and relax and don’t take a lot of time off, so my MO is usually get in, hit the highlights as quickly as possible. and get out.
We made a number of stops on our drive to Moab, and in many places the after effects of tropical storm Priscilla were evident. The weather reports were constantly changing, but for our window it generally showed mild temps and just a chance of showers. The evening before our boat ride we were treated to a late night thunderstorm, and awoke to a light rain that morning. We stopped for a cup of coffee in Moab, and the locals were all talking about all the rain they’d been getting...more in the last 5 days than they usually get the entire month. Hmmm, this might be interesting.
We got to Tex’s a few minutes after 7 and got checked in. My ill-planned idea was to make our lunch and finish up packing while the other clients checked in and had their equipment weighed and loaded. That all went to hell when I was informed we would be the only ones on the boat that morning and they were ready to go! I told them we’d need a couple extra minutes and then went into a slight scramble mode. Before I knew it we were aboard the bus and heading for the launch ramp. We had our lunch supplies with us, but it wasn't long until we started compiling a list of the things we'd forgotten to pack in our haste. For me it was coffee, sunglasses, and the cord to recharge my phone. Nothing absolutely critical, but still an uneasy feeling.
“Why are we the only ones on the boat" I thought as the bus rumbled along...is it that bad out there?” I didn’t ask if they’d had cancellations so I’ll never know. All I knew is we were now committed. The rain had let up by the time the boat launched and we started down the River. The scenery was stunning and the first 30 minutes were enjoyable.
By the second 30 minutes the scenery became old hat and the wind chill from being up front in the boat and going 30mph began to take its toll. Then the rain started...not heavy but enough to make it miserable. I unpacked my crappy emergency rain poncho and held it up in front of me like a shield. It helped—-but not much. That second hour seemed to last a lifetime...damn I hate the cold!.
Finally we passed the confluence with the Green River and I knew we were getting close. I soon saw what looked like the Doll House atop the steep cliff on our right. "We can't be going up THAT" I thought to myself.
But as the boat idled up to the riverbank at Lower Spanish Bottom my fears were confirmed. "What did I get us into?" I don't know if it was standard operating procedure or the look on my face, but the boat driver gave us instructions on what to do if we wanted to bug out early.
I'd done a fair amount of hiking on some of the steeper trails in the Grand Canyon and made better time than most, despite being over 60. So I figured the 1000' of vertical here was going to be a piece of cake. Boy was I wrong. It was rough and I was dying. Should have done some weighted step-ups to prepare for the tall steps winding up this boulder field masquerading as a trail. Every time I sat down to try to recover (which was often) my son looked back at me with a "what the hell is wrong with you" look of concern on his face. It probably didn't help that my unexplainable, unseen, and unremembered fall 4 years earlier on our last Grand Canyon trip together resulted in an unplanned helicopter rescue.
Eventually we reached the rim, and took the short side trip to see the nearby granaries.
By now the sun had come out, and the brightness of it reflecting off the white slickrock was searing my retinas. I had grown completely dependent on my sunglasses following my Lasik surgery many years ago and was never outside without them. Just a few weeks earlier my wife was chiding me about this, telling me I needed wean myself off them and toughen up. Apparently that was going to happen now.
After visiting the granaries we headed through the Doll House. The trail took us through a slot so tight we needed to remove packs to continue forward.
A short distance later we reached the jeep trail. After caching a couple liters of water for our return trip we began hoofing it down the road towards Chimney Rock, You could spot it from miles away (one pic shows me at the base of it). Once there we took a few pictures and had our lunch break. Fortunately my eyes seemed to indeed be toughening up. I can't say the same for my shoulders. For some reason my pack was feeling very uncomfortable. But temps were mild and all the rain had helped firm up the sand, so we were now making good time.
There had been signs marking the trails around the Doll House, so I assumed we'd see the same as we headed into The Maze...no such luck. Our plan was to take the Pete's Mesa trail in, and we quickly found what we thought was the correct foot path. But after following it a short distance I got the feeling we were heading the wrong way so I checked my GPS. Yep, we were on the Plug Trail. So after a quick course correction we got atop the Mesa and began following all the cairns that marked the route. From up here it was easy to see how The Maze got its moniker...the labyrinth of deep gorges had carved through the sandstone like it was soft butter. I also began peaking over to see what the canyon exit looked like if we chose to exit via Petroglyph Fork. It didn't look easy.
Eventually we reached the point where you break off Pete's Mesa and drop into the Maze drainage. More a scramble than a trail, cairns guided the way down the steep slope via a series of switchbacks. My respect goes out to whoever first charted that route...there had to be a lot of trial and error. Once we reached the bottom there was a trickle of rainwater flowing in the upper reaches, and plenty of potholes with water as we hade our way downcanyon. By now it was late afternoon and we set up our camp near the mouth of Petroglyph Fork. After a futile search for the spring that's there we opted to filter water out of the nearby potholes. That seemed easier than hiking around to the reliable spring at the base of the Overlook Trail.
We then cooked dinner and settled in for the night. Around 2am I was awakened by raindrops, and since I had gambled and left my tent in the truck, I began quickly stashing my gear under my tarp. Just as I was preparing to squeeze into my son’s tent the rain let up and quit. I spent the next hour or so watching dark clouds pass by, blocking out sections of the breathtaking starfield above. Fortunately we got no more rain, and after seeing a couple of brilliant shooting stars I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning we ate, packed up, early and headed into the canyon towards the rock art. Facing east with no overhang to protect them, the centuries of sun exposure has resulted in some fading, so seeing the Harvest Panel before the sun hits the wall was important. We first passed the towering Chocolate Drops on the mesa above us.
Then rounding a corner, the panel came into view. There was no missing it, it projected off the sandstone wall like a roadside billboard...giant, ornate figures only a few feet above the canyon floor.
On one end the artwork's namesake...a shaman/spirit with edible rice grass growing from a finger, and seemingly controlling small animal figures. On the other, a group that included a stylized snake figure. In between dozens of others, including what we determined must be a bear, and many figures elaborately painted with great attention to detail. One of my favorites was a smaller one, with goggles, antennae, and long white toenails. It was a real privilege to see this pristine work of art, and definitely worth all the effort it took to get here.
After enjoying our time with the rock art it was time to start heading back. After the tough first day we abandoned plans to take the longer South Horse Canyon route out, and instead continued up the snaking Petroglyph Canyon towards Chimney Rock (once again spotted from miles away). At the head of the canyon we made the slow, steep climb out, (it was tough, but not quite as bad as it had looked from above the day before).
Once back on the mesa we headed back towards the Doll House. Once there we retrieved our water stash and hit a trail on the mesa top that ran parallel to the River. After following it a ways we stopped near Beehive Arch and started on some lunch.
A few minutes later my son’s curiosity got to him and he strolled off to see if he could find an overlook of the Colorado River. Not wanting to miss anything I soon headed off in the same direction. Eventually we found a good spot that showed where our boat had dropped us off and even sections of the steep trail we'd taken to the top.
When we got back to where we'd left our gear we discovered our lunch (salami and Ritz crackers) had disappeared, likely pilfered by ravens. After a nap we made our way to Teapot Arch and hung out there for a while, forgoing a long hike to an overlook of the Green and Colorado Rivers confluence. Turned out to be a good decision, as a bit later a brief storm passed over and dumped buckets of rain. So instead of being soaked we enjoyed the protective cover of the wide arch, and then were treated to a nice double rainbow.
We enjoyed dinner under the arch, then made camp and hoped we’d seen the last of the rain. After an uneventful last night in the wilderness we awoke to clear skies and a chill in the air. Today would be easy, just a couple miles and all downhill to get back down to the River where we'd catch our jet boat ride back to Moab as 10am. Due to the cold I wore my jacket, and for the first time in 3 days my pack felt comfortable. Frustrating for sure, but it sure made it more pleasant. We passed thru the Doll House area and dropped over the rim and made our descent towards the River. The trail was just as rough and steep, but going down was a piece of cake compared to climbing it.
Yes, there's a trail in there:
With the sun out and plans to wear my rain poncho as a windbreaker I expected a less chilly ride back, but I was sorely mistaken. Between the cooler temps that came with the clear skies and the 30mph wind chill I nearly froze to death. I learned my poncho worked better doubled up and held as a windscreen…when wearing it the cold cut its single layer like a knife. The only respite was when we pulled over to pick up canoers...we made multiple stops where we loaded up about 20 people, a dozen canoes, and a ton of gear. I quickly learned canoers and backpackers definitely have widely different ways of packing...they lacked for nothing, and I was sorely in need of more warm clothes! I planned on taking lots of pictures as we motored up the River, but trying to stop drafts in my poncho became my sole purpose.
I was sure happy to set foot back on shore and get on that bus. The periods of discomfort are already fading from memory, and I’m left with a profound sense of gratitude that I got to have this experience and share it with my son.
I contacted Tex’s Riverways and got their schedule, then was online the minute October permits became available to snag my backcountry pass. My backpacking experience is pretty limited, so I only reserved for 2 nights. In retrospect with all the trouble getting there I should have made it for longer, but I’ve never learned to slow down and relax and don’t take a lot of time off, so my MO is usually get in, hit the highlights as quickly as possible. and get out.
We made a number of stops on our drive to Moab, and in many places the after effects of tropical storm Priscilla were evident. The weather reports were constantly changing, but for our window it generally showed mild temps and just a chance of showers. The evening before our boat ride we were treated to a late night thunderstorm, and awoke to a light rain that morning. We stopped for a cup of coffee in Moab, and the locals were all talking about all the rain they’d been getting...more in the last 5 days than they usually get the entire month. Hmmm, this might be interesting.
We got to Tex’s a few minutes after 7 and got checked in. My ill-planned idea was to make our lunch and finish up packing while the other clients checked in and had their equipment weighed and loaded. That all went to hell when I was informed we would be the only ones on the boat that morning and they were ready to go! I told them we’d need a couple extra minutes and then went into a slight scramble mode. Before I knew it we were aboard the bus and heading for the launch ramp. We had our lunch supplies with us, but it wasn't long until we started compiling a list of the things we'd forgotten to pack in our haste. For me it was coffee, sunglasses, and the cord to recharge my phone. Nothing absolutely critical, but still an uneasy feeling.
“Why are we the only ones on the boat" I thought as the bus rumbled along...is it that bad out there?” I didn’t ask if they’d had cancellations so I’ll never know. All I knew is we were now committed. The rain had let up by the time the boat launched and we started down the River. The scenery was stunning and the first 30 minutes were enjoyable.
By the second 30 minutes the scenery became old hat and the wind chill from being up front in the boat and going 30mph began to take its toll. Then the rain started...not heavy but enough to make it miserable. I unpacked my crappy emergency rain poncho and held it up in front of me like a shield. It helped—-but not much. That second hour seemed to last a lifetime...damn I hate the cold!.
Finally we passed the confluence with the Green River and I knew we were getting close. I soon saw what looked like the Doll House atop the steep cliff on our right. "We can't be going up THAT" I thought to myself.
But as the boat idled up to the riverbank at Lower Spanish Bottom my fears were confirmed. "What did I get us into?" I don't know if it was standard operating procedure or the look on my face, but the boat driver gave us instructions on what to do if we wanted to bug out early.
I'd done a fair amount of hiking on some of the steeper trails in the Grand Canyon and made better time than most, despite being over 60. So I figured the 1000' of vertical here was going to be a piece of cake. Boy was I wrong. It was rough and I was dying. Should have done some weighted step-ups to prepare for the tall steps winding up this boulder field masquerading as a trail. Every time I sat down to try to recover (which was often) my son looked back at me with a "what the hell is wrong with you" look of concern on his face. It probably didn't help that my unexplainable, unseen, and unremembered fall 4 years earlier on our last Grand Canyon trip together resulted in an unplanned helicopter rescue.
Eventually we reached the rim, and took the short side trip to see the nearby granaries.
By now the sun had come out, and the brightness of it reflecting off the white slickrock was searing my retinas. I had grown completely dependent on my sunglasses following my Lasik surgery many years ago and was never outside without them. Just a few weeks earlier my wife was chiding me about this, telling me I needed wean myself off them and toughen up. Apparently that was going to happen now.
After visiting the granaries we headed through the Doll House. The trail took us through a slot so tight we needed to remove packs to continue forward.
A short distance later we reached the jeep trail. After caching a couple liters of water for our return trip we began hoofing it down the road towards Chimney Rock, You could spot it from miles away (one pic shows me at the base of it). Once there we took a few pictures and had our lunch break. Fortunately my eyes seemed to indeed be toughening up. I can't say the same for my shoulders. For some reason my pack was feeling very uncomfortable. But temps were mild and all the rain had helped firm up the sand, so we were now making good time.
There had been signs marking the trails around the Doll House, so I assumed we'd see the same as we headed into The Maze...no such luck. Our plan was to take the Pete's Mesa trail in, and we quickly found what we thought was the correct foot path. But after following it a short distance I got the feeling we were heading the wrong way so I checked my GPS. Yep, we were on the Plug Trail. So after a quick course correction we got atop the Mesa and began following all the cairns that marked the route. From up here it was easy to see how The Maze got its moniker...the labyrinth of deep gorges had carved through the sandstone like it was soft butter. I also began peaking over to see what the canyon exit looked like if we chose to exit via Petroglyph Fork. It didn't look easy.
Eventually we reached the point where you break off Pete's Mesa and drop into the Maze drainage. More a scramble than a trail, cairns guided the way down the steep slope via a series of switchbacks. My respect goes out to whoever first charted that route...there had to be a lot of trial and error. Once we reached the bottom there was a trickle of rainwater flowing in the upper reaches, and plenty of potholes with water as we hade our way downcanyon. By now it was late afternoon and we set up our camp near the mouth of Petroglyph Fork. After a futile search for the spring that's there we opted to filter water out of the nearby potholes. That seemed easier than hiking around to the reliable spring at the base of the Overlook Trail.
We then cooked dinner and settled in for the night. Around 2am I was awakened by raindrops, and since I had gambled and left my tent in the truck, I began quickly stashing my gear under my tarp. Just as I was preparing to squeeze into my son’s tent the rain let up and quit. I spent the next hour or so watching dark clouds pass by, blocking out sections of the breathtaking starfield above. Fortunately we got no more rain, and after seeing a couple of brilliant shooting stars I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning we ate, packed up, early and headed into the canyon towards the rock art. Facing east with no overhang to protect them, the centuries of sun exposure has resulted in some fading, so seeing the Harvest Panel before the sun hits the wall was important. We first passed the towering Chocolate Drops on the mesa above us.
Then rounding a corner, the panel came into view. There was no missing it, it projected off the sandstone wall like a roadside billboard...giant, ornate figures only a few feet above the canyon floor.
On one end the artwork's namesake...a shaman/spirit with edible rice grass growing from a finger, and seemingly controlling small animal figures. On the other, a group that included a stylized snake figure. In between dozens of others, including what we determined must be a bear, and many figures elaborately painted with great attention to detail. One of my favorites was a smaller one, with goggles, antennae, and long white toenails. It was a real privilege to see this pristine work of art, and definitely worth all the effort it took to get here.
After enjoying our time with the rock art it was time to start heading back. After the tough first day we abandoned plans to take the longer South Horse Canyon route out, and instead continued up the snaking Petroglyph Canyon towards Chimney Rock (once again spotted from miles away). At the head of the canyon we made the slow, steep climb out, (it was tough, but not quite as bad as it had looked from above the day before).
Once back on the mesa we headed back towards the Doll House. Once there we retrieved our water stash and hit a trail on the mesa top that ran parallel to the River. After following it a ways we stopped near Beehive Arch and started on some lunch.
A few minutes later my son’s curiosity got to him and he strolled off to see if he could find an overlook of the Colorado River. Not wanting to miss anything I soon headed off in the same direction. Eventually we found a good spot that showed where our boat had dropped us off and even sections of the steep trail we'd taken to the top.
When we got back to where we'd left our gear we discovered our lunch (salami and Ritz crackers) had disappeared, likely pilfered by ravens. After a nap we made our way to Teapot Arch and hung out there for a while, forgoing a long hike to an overlook of the Green and Colorado Rivers confluence. Turned out to be a good decision, as a bit later a brief storm passed over and dumped buckets of rain. So instead of being soaked we enjoyed the protective cover of the wide arch, and then were treated to a nice double rainbow.
We enjoyed dinner under the arch, then made camp and hoped we’d seen the last of the rain. After an uneventful last night in the wilderness we awoke to clear skies and a chill in the air. Today would be easy, just a couple miles and all downhill to get back down to the River where we'd catch our jet boat ride back to Moab as 10am. Due to the cold I wore my jacket, and for the first time in 3 days my pack felt comfortable. Frustrating for sure, but it sure made it more pleasant. We passed thru the Doll House area and dropped over the rim and made our descent towards the River. The trail was just as rough and steep, but going down was a piece of cake compared to climbing it.
Yes, there's a trail in there:
With the sun out and plans to wear my rain poncho as a windbreaker I expected a less chilly ride back, but I was sorely mistaken. Between the cooler temps that came with the clear skies and the 30mph wind chill I nearly froze to death. I learned my poncho worked better doubled up and held as a windscreen…when wearing it the cold cut its single layer like a knife. The only respite was when we pulled over to pick up canoers...we made multiple stops where we loaded up about 20 people, a dozen canoes, and a ton of gear. I quickly learned canoers and backpackers definitely have widely different ways of packing...they lacked for nothing, and I was sorely in need of more warm clothes! I planned on taking lots of pictures as we motored up the River, but trying to stop drafts in my poncho became my sole purpose.
I was sure happy to set foot back on shore and get on that bus. The periods of discomfort are already fading from memory, and I’m left with a profound sense of gratitude that I got to have this experience and share it with my son.
