This is the third winter we are spending in Las Vegas, Nevada. The benefits of spending the winter in the Mojave Desert are many: the temperatures remain fairly warm compared to the rest of the United States (important for even the best-insulated recreational vehicles out there); the campground at which we stay has a number of amenities that we appreciate; and the Entertainment Capital of the World has a lot to offer, extending far beyond casinos, theatrical entertainment, and concerts.
One of those attractions we’ve really enjoyed visiting is the Springs Preserve, a beautiful 180-acre piece of land just west of downtown Las Vegas owned and operated by the Las Vegas Valley Water District. True to its name, the Springs Preserve is the original site of the city’s water source – it has since dried up, for the most part, but the property continues to offer a number of different attractions: botanic gardens, several museums (including the Nevada State Museum), a recreated “boomtown” that shows what early Las Vegas was like, hiking trails through the desert, and much more.
We’d been to the Springs Preserve many times in the previous two years, but never to its Butterfly Habitat because it closes for the season, due to cold weather (cold for the Mojave Desert, anyway) in late November. Nancy and I made visiting the Butterfly Habitat a priority for the early part of our 2025-2026 winter in Las Vegas, and we’re glad we did.
You’re familiar with the lifecycle of a butterfly, which includes four distinct metamorphic stages: adults (the ones that fly around) lay eggs on the underside of plant leaves or along stems; the larval stage hatches from those eggs as a caterpillar; the larvae encase themselves in a cocoon or chrysalis; and the adult emerges after a few days or weeks to fly around and the females lay eggs once again.
Butterflies have four wings: two forewings and two hindwings. Some butterflies live only for a few days as adults, and others, like monarchs, can live up to a year. The average lifespan of an adult butterfly is a mere two weeks, which makes seeing them extra-special.
Incidentally, Clark County in southern Nevada is home to Las Vegas and about 135 species of butterflies. They visit the Las Vegas area year-round, heading up to the higher elevations of the nearby mountains to wait out the sweltering summers and some species find warmer microclimates in the winter months. The butterflies at habitats like that at the Spring Preserve, none of which are native to Las Vegas and few of which are even found naturally in this country, come from several suppliers in the United States as eggs or caterpillars.
Here’s a look at the twelve (12!) different species of order Lepidoptera we encountered at the Springs Preserve Butterfly Habitat.
Before entering the habitat, which is fully enclosed to keep the butterflies and their food sources warm, staff and volunteers speak about the rules. If you’ve been to a butterfly habitat before, you’re familiar: don’t touch the butterflies (the scales on their wings are incredibly fragile), don’t step on the butterflies (they sometimes land on the sidewalks of the habitat), and make sure no butterflies leave the habitat on your clothing or body as hangers-on (no one wants to see non-native butterflies loose over the streets of Las Vegas). Although the habitat is a fairly good-sized structure, once we were inside the building Nancy and I probably didn’t move more than 10 feet from the entrance for a good 10 minutes. There was just too much to see! One of the first butterfly species we saw was the zebra longwing (Heliconius charitonius), also known as the yellow-barred heliconian. There were many of these black-and-yellow butterflies flitting about the entire habitat. The species has a wingspan of between 3 and 3 3/8 inches (75-85 mm). The color pattern is aposematic: the stripes warn predators to stay away from it. Zebra longwings are native to the gulf states, but sometimes can be found as far west as Kansas and as far north as South Carolina.Here is another species we saw frequently in the habitat: the postman butterfly (Heliconius melpomene). Like the previous species, the postman’s bright colors warn predators to look elsewhere for a meal. In the wild, they are found throughout Central and South America – particularly on the slopes of the Andes Mountains. This species has a wingspan of 1.375 to 1.5 inches (35-39 mm).This is an image of another postman, showing the underwings as it perches on this plant stem. Postman butterflies can see in the ultraviolet spectrum, which allows them to distinguish between different species of butterflies. The postman butterfly has been on the planet for a little over 2 million years (not this particular one; the species as a whole – after emerging from its cocoon, a postman butterfly lives for about six months in the wild).Cattleheart (Parides iphidamas) butterflies in the wild get their nutrients from a plant called pipevine. The adult butterflies ingest a toxin from pipevine, which keeps predators from eating them as well as the caterpillars. This species, too, is found in Central and South America. Nancy and I both appreciated the dark coloration, coupled with the bright magenta spots on the hindwing, of this species.Here is a butterfly probably familiar to all, the monarch (Danaus plexippus). Monarchs are one of the great migratory species of the animal kingdom. While many butterfly species make their way across relatively short distances to warmer climes as the seasons change, monarchs fly thousands of multi-generational miles each year. Their wings, spanning 3 1/2 to 4 inches (8.9-10.2 cm), carry them from southern Canada, throughout the western, central and eastern United States, and finally into Mexico, and then back again in the spring. (Unlike some other migratory animals, like birds, the trip takes roughly four generations each season – but it’s still an admirable feat.) By the by, this is a male monarch – you can tell because of the little black dots on the black stripes on the hindwings near the end of the thorax.Here’s one of the larger butterflies we saw in the habitat, the common blue morpho (Morpho helenor peleides). The wingspan of a common blue morpho is an uncommon 3.0 to 7.9 inches (7.5-20 cm). Those of you fortunate enough to be viewing this blog on color screens will notice there’s not much blue on this bug. Here’s the deal on blue morphos, which are from Central and South America: they don’t much care for cold temperatures. Daytime highs in Las Vegas had plummeted into the mid-60s during our mid-November visit, and it had briefly rained the night before. All butterflies are cold-blooded and rely on their environments to regulate their body temperature. In order to conserve heat, this blue morpho kept its wings closed the entire time we were in the habitat. If it had been a little warmer, we probably would have seen the brilliant blue of the tops of its wings – judging from the pictures I’ve seen online (I have a color monitor), they’re just gorgeous. The underside of the wings are pretty attractive too, of course. Some of the butterflies we saw, like this paper kite (Idea leuconoe), appeared to be yearning to be outside the habitat. However, it was much warmer, and the butterflies had much easier access to food sources, inside the building. Paper kites are natives of southeast Asia but can also be found in northern Australia and southern Taiwan. They have wingspans of 4 3/4 to 5 1/2 inches (12-14 cm). I really liked the subtle yellow-to-white coloration on this butterfly; while it doesn’t necessarily scream “DON”T EAT ME! SERIOUSLY!” like patterns we’d seen on other species, I’d probably refrain from doing so anyway.Speaking of escaping the bonds of the butterfly habitat, one of the volunteers there said that they really have to keep on eye on this species, the great southern white (Ascia monuste), to make sure it doesn’t follow visitors out the door.This picture happens to show the butterfly’s proboscis, which uncurls so that the butterfly can ingest nectar and other nutrients. In visiting a number of different flowering plants, many butterflies are important pollinators. Great southern whites are found on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts of the United States and on south to Argentina, with individuals occasionally straying to Kansas and Colorado. Great southern whites have wingspans of 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 inches (63-86 mm), a little bigger than half the size of the previously pictured paper kite.Hey, who let this giant owl into the forested butterfly habitat? I’m just kidding with you right now. This species is, in fact, a forest giant owl (Caligo eurilochus), another huge butterfly that has absolutely gorgeous multicolored top wings but this cranky guy never opened his wings during our visit. When they do open, the wingspan of a forest giant owl measures up to 6 3/4 inches (17 cm). In the wild, this species is found in Mexico, Centrai America, and down to the Amazon River basin. There are about 20 species within the owl butterfly genus, which gets its name from the eyespots on its underwing. The scientists are still undecided about the purpose of the eyespot; it might be an adaptation to mimic a large bird’s face, or it might serve as a target so that predators attack the wing rather than the body of the butterfly.This pretty species, Julia butterfly (Dryas iulia), is native to Brazil and up to Texas and Florida, and can sometimes be found as far north as Nebraska. Their wingspans measure 3 1/4 to 3 1/2 inches (82-92 mm). I liked how the color of its wings matched that of the blossoms of this lantana plant. There are 14 recognized subspecies of Julia.This is a terribly out-of-focus photo, but it’s the only one I have of this species. Its wings are not green, but rather display the color of the leaves on which it’s perched. The butterfly’s wings are transparent, giving it the name glasswing (Greta morgane oto). It is found in Central America and northern parts of South America, with occasional forays up into southern Texas and down to northern Chile. Its wingspan measures 1 to 1 1/4 inches (2.8-3 cm). This little butterfly looks pretty delicate, but it can carry up to 40 times its own weight – it, too, is a noted migrator. Malachite is a mineral that is bright-green in color, and it gives its name to this species of butterfly. The malachite (Siproeta stelenes) butterfly is fairly large, with a wingspan measuring between 3 1/4 and 4 inches (8.5-10 cm). It is found throughout Central and South America, and occasionally makes its way into Cuba as well as the southern parts of Texas and Florida. If you’re still reading this with a color screen, you’ll notice that the green on the wings isn’t particularly bright, so why is this butterfly called a malachite?This is why. Remarkably, this is the same butterfly species, malachite, as the one pictured above (although not the same butterfly; this one has a black body). It illustrates the huge difference between coloration patterns on the top and bottom of the wings of some butterflies.I’ll close with a couple of photos of another butterfly that illustrates the sharp difference between coloration of the top and bottom of its wings. We saw a lot of these butterflies, the common green birdwing (Ornithoptera priamus); in the wild they’re found in the western Pacific islands and northeast Australia.Again, this is the same species, common green birdwing, as in the preceding photo. Those are some bright colors, and even the bug’s thorax and abdomen are getting fancy. There are more than 20 subspecies of green birdwings.
Nancy and I spend a lot of time observing wildlife, mostly birds. It’s a relaxing pastime for us, and it’s a great way to get out to appreciate nature. The visit to the Springs Preserve Butterfly Habitat was incredibly rewarding, and I noticed, among the vibrant colors and the wide variety of sizes and body shapes, a big difference compared to other wildlife encounters. There were no birds chirping or calling to another, there were no hooves or paws passing through the grass, there were no sounds of grass being pulled from the ground or leaves being stripped from trees as food. Butterflies are totally silent, and they’re absolutely beautiful.
As I noted, the Springs Preserve Butterfly Habitat closes near the end of November and then closes for the winter months. If you find yourself in the Entertainment Capital of the World and want to do something pretty quiet, the habitat is a great way to get away from the noise and bright lights of Las Vegas. Check the habitat’s website (www.springspreserve.org/explore/butterfly-habitat.html) for current operating hours.
Works Consulted
Interpretive signage at the Springs Preserve Butterfly Habitat
“Field Guide to Insects & Spiders,” National Audubon Society, Borzoi Books, 2006
Wikipedia articles on various butterfly species; if you use Wikipedia, please consider supporting it financially
Homolovi State Park, near Winslow, Arizona April 16, 2025
We’re camping for two weeks in Homolovi State Park, just a couple miles east of the town of Winslow, Arizona (pop. 9,005; perhaps you’ve heard of it – one of its street corners is mentioned in the Eagles’ first major hit from 1972, “Take It Easy”). This is our third time staying here in three years – we really enjoy it. After spending five months wintering in Las Vegas, Nevada, and then a couple of campgrounds on Interstate 40 in Arizona, we’re appreciating the quiet environment and dark skies of this state park (not that we didn’t have a good time in Las Vegas; in fact, we’ve reservations to be back there beginning this November).
The main feature of this state park is a cluster of four major ancient Native American villages, several miles apart and all built and occupied around the years 1290-1400. The villages were then abandoned, but it’s generally understood that the people who lived here eventually became what is now the Hopi nation – one of the tribe’s reservations is about 60 miles north of present-day Homolovi State Park. The four villages are designated Homol’ovi I-IV; the name of the state park doesn’t include the apostrophe of the village names. “Homol’ovi,” in Hopi, translates to “place of the little hills,” and the Hopi also refer to the city of Winslow as “Homol’ovi.”
The Hopi call the people who lived here – most likely their ancestors – the Hisatsinom, which means “the people of long ago.” During the period in which the Hisatsinom lived in this region, they built and occupied four or five large villages – some comprising hundreds of rooms – using rocks gathered from the ground.
The Little Colorado River, a watercourse that drains the Painted Desert area of northeastern Arizona, flows through Homolovi State Park. I took this photo while Nancy and I were driving to Winslow; the perspective is looking north from a bridge on the former U.S. Route 66 (and now Arizona State Highway 87). The trucks and trailers just on this side of the horizon are on Interstate 40. The Little Colorado River’s headwaters are in the mid-eastern region of Arizona, very near the state’s border with New Mexico. It then flows almost 340 miles in a northwestern direction until it empties into the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. The river flows from its headwaters all the way to the Grand Canyon only during periods of flash flooding or heavy snowmelt; much of the year it’s a braided and puddled wash. I took this photo the day after the area got some appreciable rain and snow, and the water level rose only marginally. The occasional flash flooding of the Little Colorado River, which swept away crops and structures, is probably why the Homol’ovi sites were abandoned in favor of the area further to the north and which the Hopi call home today.This is the site of a major native American village, known now as Homol’ovi I, that was last occupied about 600 years ago. At its peak, it contained about 1,100 different rooms constructed of rocks. Some of the rooms included three stories. Over the ensuing six centuries, a lot has happened to destroy these unoccupied villages. Dependable northern Arizona winds have covered the village with dirt and sand, but some structures, such as the one on the mound at the right, can still be discerned. Many of the rocks in the structures were taken by members of a nearby Mormon community in the late 1800s for use in their own buildings, and vandals have also destroyed the buildings and looted the pottery.
Take a look at the tall plants on the horizon at far left: directly to the right of them, you’ll see some white splotches (not the clouds, which are further to the right; the smaller white splotches of which I write are immediately to the right of the tall plants). Those are the San Francisco Peaks, still snow-covered in mid-April. The town of Flagstaff, Arizona, is at their feet. Those mountains are about 65 miles west of Homolovi State Park.I took a picture of this image, an artist’s depiction of what Homol’ovi I looked like at its peak, at an information kiosk near the site of the former village. That’s the Little Colorado River in top right. The original image gives credit to Douglas Gann of the Center for Desert Archaeology.
From about 1290 to 1360, it’s believed that Homol’ovi I grew from a village of 200 rooms to more than 700. Around the year 1360, the village now known as Homol’ovi II was established about 3 miles, or 5 kilometers, north of Homol’ovi I; that second village quickly became the biggest one in the cluster at 1,200 rooms. Homol’ovi I, however, benefited from the second village’s success, and grew to a maximum of 1,100 rooms.
This photograph was taken from the top of the hill shown in the previous photo, still looking to the northwest. The rocks in a line are the former wall of a room. The trees near the horizon are on the east bank of the Little Colorado River; it was that river’s occasional flash flooding that likely led to the abandonment of Homol’ovi I and the other villages 600 years ago.This is a small grouping of pottery shards and what appears to be a hand-shaped rock, taken from the ground at Homol’ovi I and placed on a larger rock. The pieces of pottery are roughly the size of an American half-dollar. There are thousands of shards like these at the site, and most of them are on larger rocks like this. Archeologists and conservationists prefer that people don’t do this; instead, simply leave the shards on the ground.This is the largest exposed wall still standing at Homol’ovi I, and it’s been almost entirely rebuilt by archeologists. Note the small collections of pottery shards on some of the rocks at left: don’t do that.THIS IS A TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. This little guy (and he is a guy, and I’ll tell you why I know shortly) caught my eye as he scampered across the rocks and sand of Homol’ovi I. He is a side-blotched lizard, a genus (Uta) of which there are now seven species, and he and I were to have kind of a neat interaction. This photo of my new reptile pal shows why the genus is called side-blotched lizard – observe the dark mark (or, in scientific terminology, “blotch”) on its side just behind its front leg. The turquoise-blue dots on the back are also a defining characteristic of the genus. These lizards grow to a length of about six inches, including the tail. Their diet includes insects, spiders, and other arthropods such as the occasional scorpion. They are themselves predated upon by larger lizards and roadrunners.In an attempt to give the reptile some space, I continued walking down the path through Homol’ovi I – but the beast pursued me. Observe the very pretty light-blue dots on its back. I was about six feet from the lizard when I took this photo (using a 400mm telephoto lens).Here’s a cropped version of the previous photo. Behold those beautiful blue dots as well as some detail of its fearsome front claws. After I took the photo, the lizard continued to approach me: in fact, it got to about six inches from my left foot – and then it scampered away. Turns out, that’s a common behavioral trait of male side-blotched lizards. The scientists don’t know if the behavior is intended to scare away possible intruders from its mate, or to defend its territory. At any rate, I got the hint and moved along (even though my course on the path took me in the same general direction of the lizard, who at that point was many yards away). I later described my interaction with the side-blotched lizard to Nancy, who did not at all appreciate when I poked her under her armpit to show her where the blotch on the lizard’s side was. We also shared the same belief that she would have absolutely and completely freaked out if the lizard had gotten to within six inches of her left foot.More wildlife: I always like to include some bird photos in these postings, so here are a couple of images I took in our campground at Homolovi State Park. This is a black-throated sparrow (Amphispiza bilineata), a species found in the southwestern United States and much of Mexico. They are absolutely beautiful little birds. I’ve seen them only here at Homolovi State Park and at Tuzigoot National Monument, further west in Arizona.This is a loggerhead shrike (Lanius ludovicianus), on a tree just a few feet from the Goddard’s campsite. I remember reading about shrikes when I was young, but I didn’t see one in the wild until a couple of years ago at McDowell Mountain Regional Park east of Phoenix, Arizona. I also saw some over this past winter at Clark County Wetlands Park, very close to the campground where we spent the winter near Las Vegas. Loggerhead shrikes are found nearly all over the United States.
We’re planning to join a ranger-led tour of Homol’ovi II, which has been partially excavated and reconstructed, on Saturday, April 26. I’ll write and post photographs from that experience afterwards. We were on the same tour a couple of years ago, but, because of our travels and opportunities to see ancient Native American sites in the southwestern United States since then, we have a better perspective of what we’ll see.
Nancy, Gunther, Rusty, and I are wintering in Las Vegas, Nevada. We arrived here at the beginning of November 2024, with plans to depart in early spring of this year. There are worse places to spend the winter than Las Vegas: the campground at which we’re staying is surprisingly inexpensive with friendly folks and lots of activities, there are a lot of good restaurants and entertainment options relatively nearby, and, as we found out last winter (we spent five months here), there are a unexpectedly large number of hiking and birding opportunities very close to the city.
Gunther, Nancy, and I took advantage of one of those birding opportunities during the waning days of 2024 with a visit to Clark County Wetlands Park, located just a few minutes’ drive from our campground. The Las Vegas Wash, which I described in last year’s posting about the Owl Canyon Hiking Trail at Lake Mead National Recreation Area, creates the wetlands aspect of the park. Those of you who have spent much time in the desert city of Las Vegas might be surprised to see that a decent-sized creek runs through the east side of the metropolitan area. Las Vegas Wash is bigger at times, especially after heavy rains, than others. For those used to even small-sized creeks and rivers, it’s probably not a very impressive waterway. However, the Las Vegas Wash is absolutely critical for the health and sustainability of this area; the water in it is collected wastewater and runoff from the city’s hotels, golf courses, and other businesses, as well as residential wastewater and stormwater runoff, on a 12-mile journey (including through wastewater treatment plants) to the Lake Mead impoundment east of Las Vegas. Ninety percent of the water used in the Las Vegas metropolitan area is drawn from Lake Mead (the rest is from groundwater sources), so it’s imperative that as much water that’s used in the city gets returned to the reservoir as possible.
We’re currently close enough to the Golden State that I thought this might be a California quail as opposed to a Gambel’s quail (Callipepla gambelii), but it is indeed the latter. It, along with three or four more of its kind, was hunting on the ground just off the trail shortly after we started our walk. In addition to southern Nevada, this bird’s range includes regions of California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah, as well as little parts of western Colorado.
Whether it’s moving, still, salty, fresh, or freshly treated, water makes a huge difference in supporting wildlife populations; without the wash, many species of birds, lizards, and mammals simply wouldn’t be in this place. That fact was made clear to us on the day that we visited. Like most avid birders, I keep a record of each bird species we see during the year. Before we began the five-mile loop walk through the wetlands, we’d seen 50 different bird species in 2024; by the time the three of us climbed back into the Goddard’s six-wheeled towing unit to drive back to the campground, we’d seen 18 additional species, 12 of which were species not yet seen in 2024, and four of which we’d never seen before. In other words, nearly a quarter of the bird species we saw in 2024 were seen on the on the 363rd day of the year during this 2 1/2-hour hike just outside of Las Vegas.
Much of the 2,900-acre (4.5 square-mile) Wetlands Park is a nature preserve, into which Gunther (very understandably) can’t go. However, there’s a very fine concrete trail that skirts the outer perimeter of the preserve and also goes over a bridge that crosses the wash. It was from that bridge that we saw three of the four “lifers,” or bird species we hadn’t ever seen before.
This is a view from the Las Vegas Wash looking west toward Las Vegas Boulevard, or “The Strip.” It was an overcast and hazy day in the Las Vegas Valley, but you can just barely make out some of the structures on The Strip. Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino, the southernmost casino on The Strip and indicated by the green arrow, is about nine miles directly west of this position. The Stratosphere Hotel, Casino and Tower (I think it’s just going by The STRAT now) is indicated by the blue arrow and is located about six miles to the north of Mandalay Bay. (Incidentally, at 1,149 feet the Stratosphere’s observation tower is the tallest in the United States and is second in the Western Hemisphere only to Toronto’s CN Tower at 1,815 feet – but that’s a conversion from metric so who knows what’s really going on?) Anyway, the Spring Mountain Range is on the horizon, and in between Las Vegas Boulevard and the mountains is Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, which we visited last winter. Those are American coots swimming in the Las Vegas Wash on the right.We’ve seen lots of little white-crowned sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys) since becoming full-time RVers, especially in New Mexico and Arizona, but it’s always a pleasure to see (and hear) them again. Of all the little brown birds (LBBs), they are one of the easiest o identify. Small but mighty, these birds are exceptional migrators and have been tracked flying as many as 300 miles in one night.
Prior to becoming full-time RVers and when we still lived in Denver, Nancy and I visited Las Vegas at least once a year. Like most visitors, we arrived via airplane at Harry Reid International Airport (née McCarran International Airport), and took a cab to our hotel, either on The Strip, or, later and more regularly, in downtown Las Vegas. We’d spend a few fun-filled days, some more profitable than others, and then take a cab back to the airport and return home. A lot of people don’t realize that when they fly into Harry Reid International Airport, spend a few days recreating on The Strip then return to the airport to go back home, they’re not ever actually in Las Vegas – unless they go to the Stratosphere (I don’t care what it’s going by now; I’ll still call it the Stratosphere because I just got used to not calling it Bob Stupak’s Vegas World) or to downtown Las Vegas. Otherwise, each of the roughly 40 hotels and casinos, including places like The Bellagio, Caesar’s Palace, New York New York, The Luxor, The Wynn Las Vegas, and dozens more) along Las Vegas Boulevard, with the exception of the Stratosphere, is in unincorporated Clark County (as is the airport). Those hotels have a total of nearly 89,000 rooms (The Wynn Las Vegas alone has almost 4,800 rooms); compare to, say, downtown Denver which has about 11,000 hotel rooms and the biggest one, the Sheraton Denver Downtown, has 1,231 rooms). The point is, there are a lot of hotel rooms in Las Vegas (and tens of thousands more in unincorporated Clark County), and all of them have bathrooms with showers and flushing toilets, and all of that water needs to go somewhere.
Where it needs to go is into Lake Mead, and how it gets there is via the Las Vegas Wash. Wastewater treatment plant facilities clean up the water as it makes its way to the reservoir; during our visit to the wetlands on December 28, I was reminded of walking and biking on the Cherry Creek Regional Trail in Denver because of the unmistakable (and not entirely unpleasant – certainly more pleasant than it had been before) smell of wastewater under the process of being treated.
Anyhow, and as someone once wrote, back to the birds.
Here’s the first of the never-before-seen-by-us species: the Crissal thrasher (Toxostoma crissale). It’s very similar to a curve-billed thrasher, but the Crissal’s beak is even longer (and more curved, I think). This particular species prefers to stay on the ground, foraging for food, rather than fly about to fill its belly. In the United States, this bird is found only in the southern parts of California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and far western Texas. I usually avoid editing my pictures, other than cropping and re-sizing, but I decided to adjust the contrast on this one to bring out the bird better. The overcast conditions on the day we visited weren’t the best for photography, and many of the birds were far away (in the nature preserve, where, thanks to Gunther, we weren’t allowed. Thanks again, Gunther.)Happily, the sun happened to be out a bit more when we were on the bridge in Wetlands Park, and I got what I think are some pretty good photos. These ducks were far enough away that I didn’t know what species they were until we got back home and I could have a closer look at the images. This is another new-to-us species, the ring-necked duck (Aythya collaris). As is sometimes the case, the identification feature that’s in the name of this species isn’t really helpful in identifying it: the ring on the neck is very faint, and was probably more visible to early naturalists on captured birds. As a migrator, this species is found throughout North America in different parts of the year; during the fall, Minnesota lakes supporting beds of wild rice can sometimes have flocks of ring-necked ducks numbering in the hundreds of thousands. In this species, as with many other ducks, the male (right) and female (left) genders have remarkably different coloration most of the year (note the extreme difference even in their eye color). As was pointed out to me a few days ago by a full-time resident of this campground, the females of many bird species have to stay more camouflaged to protect the young hatchlings (in that case, we were talking about hummingbirds, but it’s true for many bird species). We’ve had the opportunity to see plenty of double-crested cormorants (Nannopterum auritum), especially at St. Vrain State Park in northern Colorado, but they were usually swimming. For some reason, there were a lot of cormorants on the wing this day at Wetlands Park. This one is showing off its wingspan, which can get to four feet long. Interestingly, despite being a water bird, cormorants do not have waterproof feathers – it’s why they’re often seen on shore with their wings spread. I recently listened to a very interesting audiobook about the Cretaceous-Paleogene Extinction Event, in which an asteroid struck the Earth 66 million years ago and brought the Age of Dinosaurs (mostly) to an end. The author consistently mentioned, though, that only non-avian dinosaurs, or those reptiles that couldn’t take to the air, were made extinct. I’ve mentioned it before, but double-crested cormorants (the white crests appear above the eyes of adult birds only during the breeding season) are one of the best reminders that, in an indirect way, avian dinosaurs still populate the earth.I’ve long been struck by how majestic and powerful most birds look when viewed from the side, or perhaps a three-quarter angle, and how they don’t look at all majestic and powerful when viewed face-on. This is a great blue heron (Ardea herodias), which spent a considerable amount of time among the reeds on the hunt for small fish.The angle makes all the difference: same exact bird. Great blue herons are a lot of fun to watch – they’re very patient while hunting and move almost imperceptibly, but then strike lightning-quick to pull fish from the water. If you look away for a moment, you may have missed all of the action. GBHs grow to a height of almost 4.5 feet and can weigh 5.5 pounds, with wingspans measuring more than 6.5 feet.I originally thought this was a snowy egret (and thus a lifer), but when editing the photo for this posting I realized that its beak is all yellow and its legs are all black (and it’s overall bigger than a snowy egret, which have black beaks and yellow legs). Thus, it’s a great egret (Ardea alba), which we’ve seen plenty of times elsewhere but are still very gratifying to watch. This bird is the symbol of the National Audubon Society, which was created to save this species and others from extinction. Because of their white brilliance, the feathers of great egrets were once valued as decorative accessories for people. This one was just taking off from creekside of the Las Vegas Wash, affording a good view of its feet just above the water. Again, this bird was far enough away while I was photographing it that I wasn’t really sure what species it was, but upon getting home and reviewing it on a bigger screen I discovered that it is an American bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus). This, the third of the “lifer” birds for this walk, was flying about the wash looking for a good place to land. They weigh between 13 and 17 ounces (just over a pound), with a three-foot wingspan. In true Vegas style, we were lucky to see this bittern while on the wing; this species is somewhat rare to observe in the wild because it takes advantage of that striping pattern on its neck and chest to hide motionless among reeds and other tall waterside plants while hunting. American bitterns, also migrators, are found from central and southern Canada down into Mexico at different parts of the year. During the winter months in North America, this species is found only in the extreme southern parts of the southern states and along the eastern and western seaboards. That’s an American coot on the right. We’ve seen American wigeons (Mareca americana) before as well, most memorably near Willcox, Arizona, but it was good to see another one near Las Vegas. We didn’t see any wigeon drakes; only this hen; drakes have a green head and a white crown. Wigeons’ bills are shorter and more goose-like than those of other dabbling ducks, and for that reason more of their diet is plant-based than those of other duck species. That’s an American coot on the right.Compare this egret to the great egret pictured above: notice the black beak and the yellow feet of this one? That’s right: it’s a snowy egret (Egretta thula), and thus the final lifer of the day! Another difference between the two species is their size: great egrets can grow to a height of just over 40 inches and a weight of 35 ounces, while snowy egrets only grow to about 26 inches and a weight of 13 ounces. Regrettably, and although I waited for what seemed like a reasonable time, no American coots made their way into the background of this photo.The “wetlands” aspect of Wetlands Park ends pretty abruptly; in fact, within just a few feet of the water’s edge, the landscape reverts back to extraordinary desolation. The Las Vegas area is in the extreme northeast corner of the Mojave Desert, 54,000 square miles of a dry and sparsely vegetated area that also includes Death Valley. The desert gets between 2 and 6 inches of rain each year, and summertime temperatures regularly climb into the 120-degree-Fahrenheit range. Still, there’s plenty of opportunity for my favorite desert plant, creosote, to grow (although these are, by far, the lowest-growing creosote bushes I’ve ever seen). We’re facing away (east) from the Las Vegas metropolitan area in this view. Yonder, about 20 miles beyond those picnic shelters, lies Lake Mead.Nancy was the first to spot this Say’s phoebe (Sayornis saya) as it flitted about in the shrubbery to our left (well, if Gunther saw it first, he sure didn’t point it out to me). The bird seemed to want to follow us down the trail for a while, giving me plenty of opportunities to snap its picture. These birds are found only in the western United States and Canada, and most of Mexico. They’re actually fairly gregarious, as birds go, and will often roost in buildings. Their diet consists mostly of insects. It’s possible that their name will change sometime in the future: there’s a movement in the birding community to re-name all birds that are named after individuals because it turns out that some of the individuals for whom birds have been named after were not themselves very nice people. Dunno if that’s the case for American naturalist Thomas Say (1787-1834); I do think that individual names are on their way out just for consistency’s sake.The walk that Nancy and Gunther and I were on was a balloon loop, in which you start walking and sooner or later make a left or right turn, then keep walking until you get back to the point at which you made a turn (completing the loop) and then walk back to the start of the hike (completing the “string” of the balloon). This allowed us to make a repeat visit to the bridge under which the Las Vegas Wash ran, and gave us another opportunity to see birds attracted by what the water makes possible – basically, fish and bugs and waterplants. The overcast and hazy conditions of the day were already pretty bad, and the mid-afternoon sun was fading, too, but I did get a few pictures of this belted kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) perched over the wash. This photo, too, has been edited to bring out the contrast and colors of the bird. This photo still isn’t that great; the white spot above the kingfisher’s bill is just that: a white spot, and its eyes are black and above and just behind those spots. We’ve seen exactly two belted kingfishers, which is a flying marvel of a waterbird, since we became full-time RVers a little over three years ago. Both of them were seen in Las Vegas, which averages about four inches of rain each year (we saw the other one last winter at another wildlife preserve in Las Vegas proper; I’ll get around to writing about that super-cool place someday). Water really is a crucial aspect of wildlife diversity. We were highly fortunate to see this one actually fishing; it’s an laccomplished flyer and is capable of quickly diving down to the water to catch fish and crawdads with that magnificent bill.We’re nearly to the other end of the bridge now, and running out of water in which to see waterbirds. The ducks to the left, of course, are mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), including the drake at far left and the hen in the middle. Mallards are found all over North America, Europe, and parts of Asia and even Africa. I read recently that domestic ducks (the familiar white ducks of many a barnyard) are domesticated from the mallard species, and the mallard genome is so prevalent in ducks that it’s prone to cross-breeding in wild populations that some species struggle to remain distinct. This lovely couple gives a good size perspective on the snowy egret at right – they’re really not very big, are they?Alright, alright … one more bird before we leave the waterway. This is the fabulous American coot (Fulica americana), which, although it floats like a duck is more closely related to sandhill cranes than anyone in the duck family. I wasn’t going to include this, but there were (obviously) about three kajillion coots on the Las Vegas Wash that day and it doesn’t seem right to exclude an exclusive photo. This is, incidentally, the best picture of a coot I’ve ever taken; their black color and tendency to hide amongst water plants makes them difficult to photograph well. This was probably the biggest bird we saw during our walk. It’s hard for me to resist taking pictures of aircraft flying overhead, even while enjoying the serenity of nature. This is a Boeing 737 Max 8, registration number N17341 and operating as United Airlines Flight 1981, shortly after its scheduled departure from LAS (Harry Reid International Airport) at 2:05 PM Pacific time, with scheduled arrival at EWR (Newark Liberty International Airport in New Jersey) at 9:59 PM Eastern time. N17341 saw a lot of the country on December 28: it left Charleston International Airport (CHS) in South Carolina at 6:00 AM Eastern, flying first to EWR, then flew cross-country to LAS, then had this flight back to EWR. More than 1,050 flights arrive at and depart from LAS every day; it’s the country’s eighth-busiest airport.
The next couple of photos aren’t from the Las Vegas Wetlands Park walk – they’re ones I took in our campground in which we’ve been staying the winter. There’s not necessarily a lot of variety of birds here, but they’re still fun to keep an eye out for.
I often see this little dude, a male Anna’s hummingbird (Calypte anna), when Gunther and I are visiting our campground’s dog park in the mornings. While Gunther is attending to his business, I look to this same little branch on this same little tree, and about half the time he’s there, just about 10 yards from the dog park’s fence. The legs of all hummingbirds are so small that the birds can neither walk nor hop on the ground or on a branch. They, like all hummingbirds, are tiny: Anna’s have all the volume of a ping-pong ball and the all the mass of a shiny U.S. nickel (between a tenth and two-tenths of an ounce). As small as they are, they’re powerful fliers: males can soar up to 130 feet in the air. This species of hummingbird, one of 360 in the world, is found year-round in the Las Vegas area, as well as the western halves of California, Oregon, and Washington. Say, that reminds me: I’ve recently learned the German word for “pineapple” is “Ananas,” so the imperativ (command) for “Anna, eat pineapple!” in German is “Anna, esse Ananas!”Here’s another reminder that we share this planet with dinosaurs’ descendants: imagine the slashing terror of these razor-sharp talons, the brute strength of these powerful claws, the raw crushing horror of …… a rock pigeon (Columba livia), which is found year-round all over North, Central, and South America, and the campground in which we are spending the winter.Gunther thanks you for joining him (and Nancy and me) on this Las Vegas Wash adventure, and hopes you have a healthy and happy 2025 filled with lots of fun walks!
Here’s a list of the birds (not all are pictured above) we saw at Wetlands Park; it was one of the more successful birding walks we’ve ever enjoyed, and just a fun way to spend an afternoon in The Entertainment Capital of the World.
September 28, 2024 – Near Pagosa Springs, Colorado
At the entrance to Chimney Rock National Monument, one can see Chimney Rock (center horizon), Companion Rock (to the left of Chimney Rock), and the mesa on which an ancient Puebloan great house still stands (at far left).
The scientific pursuits of geology, archeology, and astronomy combine in a number of interesting ways at Chimney Rock National Monument, located about 20 miles of Pagosa Springs in southwestern Colorado. In late September 2024, the Goddard was parked for a couple of weeks in Pagosa Springs, allowing us to enjoy the spectacular fall colors of aspen trees as well as a visit to Chimney Rock National Monument. We joined a geology-focused tour of the monument led by a volunteer guide, a former geologist in the oil and gas industry. In addition to learning about the rock features of the monument, we also learned about the history of the human habitation of Chimney Rock and visited the highest-in-elevation ancient Pueblo in the American Southwest, the Great House.
I took this photo from the road entrance to Chimney Rock National Monument using a telephoto lens. For perspective, Chimney Rock on the right rises more than 300 feet above the dark gray shale layer below it.
Between the years 925 and 1125, more than 2,000 Pueblo Native Americans lived in the Chimney Rock region and, although no more than about 250 people called it home at one time, they made it a substantial settlement for two centuries. The inhabitants built a number of stone and timber structures that are still standing today, and they traded goods with other Pueblo communities up to 150 miles away. Today, archaeologists know of 200 ancient structures collected within eight distinct villages at Chimney Rock.
Initial archeological investigations began in the 1920s by J.A. Jeançon, a Smithsonian Institution-trained archeologist working on behalf of the Colorado Historical Society, and his assistant, Frank Roberts; they and their crew surveyed and mapped dozens of structures and found thousands of artifacts.
Today, the U.S. Forest Service, which manages Chimney Rock National Monument, is leaving many archeological sites undisturbed out of respect for existing Puebloan and other Native American cultures, and with the understanding that less-invasive archeological techniques may be developed in the future. More than two dozen Native American tribes have an affiliation with Chimney Rock.
The monument, surrounded by the Southern Ute Indian Reservation, is closed to the general public each year from September 30 to May 15. The closure allows Native Americans to access the site for private ceremonial purposes, and the Chimney Rock area is also a major thoroughfare for elk migration.
Geology! These three rocks, all of which were collected earlier at Chimney Rock by the volunteer geologist conducting our tour, tell a really interesting part of the story of the area. The ammonite fossil at far left shows that Chimney Rock, which today gets about 14 inches of precipitation annually, was once covered by an inland sea. Ammonites were incredibly diverse and numerous aquatic cephalopods (related to modern squid and octopi) that flourished for hundreds of millions of years until the Earth’s collision with an asteroid 65 million years ago. The petrified wood in the center indicates that large trees used to grow on shorelines left when the land rose and the sea receded. Finally, the basalt at right was ejected from an erupting volcano in the area. (Yes, I know the ammonite photo also demonstrates that I was, at the time, in gruesomely desperate need of my semi-annual mani-pedi.)
The true importance of Chimney Rock lies, of course, in its ties to ancient and current-day Native Americans. But from a geologic perspective, the story of Chimney Rock begins, seemingly as do so many on this website, with a great inland sea. One hundred million years ago, much of present-day North America was under a shallow but vast sea that connected the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. At its largest size, the Western Interior Seaway stretched from today’s Rocky Mountains in the west to the Appalachian range in the east. At its deepest points, it was only about 3,000 feet from the waves on top to the sea bottom – very shallow for a sea. The size of the sea varied widely over the course of its 34 million years of existence; it finally drained away for good about the time of the end of the Cretaceous Period, or 65 million years ago when dinosaurs ceased to rule the earth.
While it was relatively shallow, the Western Interior Seaway’s 3,000 feet of water depth carried a lot of compression capability. Clay at the bottom of the sea, as well as dead plants and animals, accumulated over the eons to build a 1,000-feet-thick layer of mud. That layer would solidify, over millions of years of water weight pressing upon it, into a dark gray layer of rock called Lewis Shale. When the western part of the American continent began to rise, the waters of the inland sea drained away to leave shorelines of sand and tidal flats. Dry periods alternated with years upon years of wetter conditions, leaving layers of coal and fossilized animal skeletons.
About 40 million years ago – 26 million years after an asteroid impact killed all of the non-flying dinosaurs as well as a goodly amount of other life on Earth – volcanoes began erupting in the Four Corners area of Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona. This activity built the Colorado Plateau, a huge high-desert expanse of the southwestern United States covering 130,000 square miles of those four states, roughly centered in the Four Corners area.
The erosional forces of wind and water began to have their way with the soil covering today’s Companion Rock and Chimney Rock, and then glaciers from the last Ice Age of 4 million years ago carved deeply into the former mud of the inland seafloor, now compressed into shale. Finally, the glaciers melted and the resulting floodwaters exposed sandstone – formerly the beaches of the receding inland sea from tens of millions of years earlier but compressed into a rocky layer – and eroded away nearly all of that sandstone layer with the exception of Companion Rock and Chimney Rock. The scientists believe that the two sandstone features have been exposed for about 25,000 years, protected by what was probably the thickest and hardest layer of sand during the time of the Western Interior Seaway and is now a layer of sandstone more resistant to erosion than other rocks had been. However, they too, with the relentless work of water and wind, will gradually fall to the valley below.
This view, looking east on a hazy late-September morning, shows the dark-gray Lewis Shale layer below the light-brown Pictured Cliffs Sandstone layer, of which Companion Rock and Chimney Rock are the tallest remnants. This valley was carved by glaciers and the flooding of the melted glaciers as well as the Piedra River. To the immediate left of the two natural rock towers is the Great House, built by ancient Puebloans . The San Juan mountains, volcanic in origin, are on the far horizon.This is the trail leading to the monument’s Great House, one of the square exterior corners of which can be seen at the top of the photo. This is the same trail that was used by the ancient Puebloans to make their way from the valley floor to the Great House. The trail is situated on a relatively thin ridge of sandstone. Everything brought to the Great House – building materials, foodstuffs, water – was carried by the ancient Puebloans, by hand, up this trail.These sandstone rocks are on the trail to the monument’s Great House. Our geologist guide noted that the natural fracturing of the sandstone made selection and collection of the rocks much easier for the Puebloan builders of the structures in the monument. Note also the brownish markings in the rocks: they’re about 6-8 inches long, and are the fossilized burrows of a prehistoric crustacean that lived in the sand of the inland sea that once inundated much of North America. The animals dug these burrows into the existing shoreline sand, and the holes gradually filled with clay and mud containing iron to leave behind the brown fossils seen on the trail today.Archeology! This south-facing exterior wall of the Great House has an interesting story. Most of the rocks comprising the Great House and other structures were replaced, in place, over the last century by archeologists and during a major project in the 1970s involving Native Americans. The structures had simply fallen victim to the forces of erosion over the course of 10 centuries of non-occupancy. However, the modern-day wooden shelf in the center of this photo is protecting part of a stone wall that was laid by Puebloan hands a thousand years ago and managed to stay intact. Note the different size and color of the rocks surrounding the original work.The rock formations are still quite a good distance from the Great House; Chimney Rock itself is 315 feet tall. Scientific analysis of some of the wood beams still left at the Great House shows that construction began in the year AD 1076 and then expanded in AD 1093. Those particular years would prove to be significant in discovering why Great House was built where it was.This picture was taken looking southwest from atop one of the Great House’s walls. Many of the rocks in the walls have been replaced over the years, but some parts of the walls feature the original masonry and stonework. It’s estimated that the Great House was built using up to six million stones, all of which were hand-selected, hand-shaped, and hand-carried to this site. All of these walls were once taller, and roofs covered the buildings. On the far horizon, in the center of the photo and between the left and right hillsides, lies New Mexico. Visitors from Chaco Canyon, 90 miles away, would approach the Chimney Rock villages through that low valley. Similarities between the architectural styles of the buildings at Chaco Canyon and Chimney Rock, as well as those of cultural artifacts, such as pottery designs, stone tools, and projectile points, demonstrate that the two communities shared many ideas over the two centuries of Chimney Rock’s existence. Similar artifacts show that the residents of Chimney Rock may have traded with still other Native Americans living up to 150 miles away.
Jeançon began his excavation of the Great House Pueblo in 1921. He noted that some of the walls were still 14 feet tall. The building contained at least 35 rooms and two kivas, the round structures believed to be the center of the ancient Puebloans’ spiritual and perhaps social lives. An archeologist has estimated that to build a structure of this size and complexity, in addition to the 6 million rocks, the builders would have needed 5,000 log beams, 25,000 tons of water, and 25,000 tons of dirt to make an adobe mortar. All of these materials would have had to have been carried up the steep trail by hand.
Considering all of the labor needed to build Great House and the many other structures, one is left with the question of why the residents stayed here for only two centuries. There are three prevailing hypotheses for the ancient Puebloans’ departure: it’s possible that the area was depleted of food and other resources; societal changes or perhaps warfare made it in the residents’ best interests to leave; or the community, representative of other Puebloan cultures of the time, simply decided that it was time to find a new home. Whatever the reason for their departure, it’s believed that the residents of Chimney Rock, along with many other ancient Puebloan communities, moved south into present-day New Mexico and Arizona; their descendants can be found today among the members of the Navajo, Hopi, Zuni, and other Native American tribes.
While at the Great House, I took a picture of Companion and Chimney rocks with my telephoto lens. The distance from the Great House to the rock formations makes them look smaller than they actually are; as I noted earlier, Chimney Rock, the structure furthest away, is taller than a football field is long. The top of Companion Rock is a nesting area for peregrine falcons. Because of their spiritual significance to Native Americans and to protect the birds’ nests, both rock formations are off-limits to hikers and rock climbers.
That covers some of the geology and archeology at Chimney Rock National Monument; let’s move on to the skies above. Nancy and I learned a new word the day we visited the monument: archeoastronomy. This vowel-heavy construction refers to the study of the ways in which ancient cultures studied the skies and how they used that information to guide many of their day-to-day and seasonal decisions, including when to plant crops and conduct spiritual ceremonies. Around the world, very old cultural sites, like Stonehenge in England and hundreds of temples in Egypt, show that ancient peoples were keenly aware of the movement of the sun, moon, planets, and stars.
Observing the skies and the objects contained in the vast expanse above also played a major role in the ancient Native Americans’ religious lives. In North America, evidence of the significance of celestial movement to Native American cultures can be found in many places, including at Chaco Canyon and at Chimney Rock.
The most significant alignment of celestial objects and Earth-bound structures at Chimney Rock is known as the Northern Major Lunar Standstill. (That was another term and concept new to Nancy and me, neither of whom are anywhere close to unfamiliar with astronomy, but I guess that’s a big reason that we’re doing this: each time Nancy and I leave the Goddard to visit a museum or national park, we ask each other, “Are you ready to do some more learnin’?”)
Many will be aware that the rising and setting of the sun appears to move across the horizon as the year progresses: on the day of the summer solstice it appears to rise and set in its northernmost latitude (and makes for the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere), and then the sunrise and sunset appear to occur further south each day until the winter solstice, making for the shortest day of the year. It then appears to move north again to complete the second half of the solar cycle.
The moon has a similar cycle, appearing to rise at different locations from north to south like a pendulum over the course of a month. The Northern Major Lunar Standstill, or MLS, occurs on a recurring cycle of 18.6 years when that pendulum of the moon’s rise appears to stay in the same location on the horizon for a period lasting about 16 months.
Here’s the significance of the MLS to the manmade and natural stone structures at Chimney Rock: during the lunar standstill and when viewed from the Great House Pueblo, the moon appears to rise between Companion Rock and Chimney Rock. Archeoastronomers don’t know this for an absolute certainty, but it appears that the Great House was built where it was so that its ancient Puebloan residents could observe this event that occurs on a cycle of just under two decades. The years AD 1076 and 1093, when the structure was built and later expanded, were both years in which lunar standstills occurred. It’s quite possible that many ancient Puebloans from around the Four Corners region traveled to the Great House to view this powerful spectacle alongside the residents of Chimney Rock.
As it happens, in late 2024 the MLS was nearing the end of its cycle at Chimney Rock – our U.S. Forest Service geologist guide showed us pictures on his cellphone he’d taken of the moon rising between the two rocks just a few nights before our visit. We briefly lamented not being able to see the event ourselves, but the guide noted that very few people are allowed to be at the Great House at night. It’s of extraordinarily powerful spiritual significance to modern Puebloans, of course; it’s also incredibly dangerous to walk the trail to the Great House at night because of the trail’s position on a very thin ridge. The Forest Service and its academic partners in astronomy have a camera situated at the Great House, and the transmission showing the moon’s rise between Companion Rock and Chimney Rock is seen by many people down at the monument’s visitor center.
I’ve long had an affinity for this wildflower, desert paintbrush, so I was happy to see this specimen blooming just a few steps from the Great House.Astronomy, again! While researching the information for this posting, I happened to notice that the Griffith Observatory, based in Los Angeles, was hosting a livestream of the moonrise from Chimney Rock on the evening of October 21, 2024. Nancy and I were very happy to watch this event from our living room in the Goddard as it was parked in Flagstaff, Arizona, three weeks after our visit to Chimney Rock National Monument. To sum up, we watched an astronomical observatory in southern California conduct a livestream of the moon rising between Companion Rock and Chimney Rock, 350 miles away from where it was happening in southwest Colorado while we were camping in northern Arizona. As I often say, we’re living in the future.
As we were walking away from my first viewing of the Grand Canyon, I turned to Nancy (who’d been to the national park on a hiking trip with friends some years earlier) and said, “I wasn’t prepared for that.”
And that was an understatement among understatements. I’d seen countless photos, as well as tons of video footage and movie clips, of this geologic wonder, and I was woefully unprepared for just how stunning the views are when one is actually standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon. More than a year later, while editing the photos for this blog posting, I am shaking my head at the images and believe me when I tell you: my photos don’t do the Grand Canyon justice and neither do anyone else’s.
“In the Grand Canyon there are thousands of gorges like that below Niagara Falls, and there are a thousand Yosemites. Yet all these canyons combine to form one grand canyon, the most sublime spectacle on the earth.”
– John Wesley Powell, 1895
This is the first photo I took from the rim of the Grand Canyon. The views are so expansive, both in distance and depth, that the light from the sun and shadows from cloud cover change what you see from minute to minute. The average width of the canyon from the South Rim to the North Rim is 10 miles. The different colors in the rocks are due to the presence of varying minerals, such as iron oxide, in each layer.
Grand Canyon National Park: By The Numbers
Date established
January 11, 1908 (national monument); February 26, 1919 (national park)
Total area
1,902 square miles
Total visitors
4.73 million in 2023
Elevation
South Rim: 7,129 feet (elevation of North Rim is 8,145 feet); elevation of Colorado River is 2,400 feet
The Grand Canyon’s dimensions are so big that the numbers are related in miles, not feet. Consider that the state of Colorado measures 280 miles from its northern border with Wyoming to its southern border with New Mexico. The Grand Canyon, at 277 miles long, is only three miles shorter than that distance. The width of the canyon is an average of 10 miles. It’s nearly one mile – an average of 5,000 feet – from the rim of the canyon to the Colorado River below.
Here’s something about the Grand Canyon that I find really hard to fathom: the scientists believe that the canyon is only 6 million years old. In geologic time, that is less than the beginning of an eyeblink. Prior to the 1966 completion of Glen Canyon Dam, upriver from the Grand Canyon, during spring and summer runoff hundreds of thousands of tons of sediment would be carried by the Colorado River – each day. That water, pushing and pulling and tossing sand, gravel, rocks, and boulders through the canyon, gouged what is now a mile-deep course through what is now northern Arizona. The erosional forces also included precipitation and freezing and thawing of water along the canyon’s walls.
Early European-American residents of the American Southwest recognized that the Colorado River had to be tamed in order to prevent it from wiping away those resident’s properties during spring and summer floods. Creation of the national monument in 1908 and eventual designation of Grand Canyon National Park in 1919 assured that no manmade water diversion projects would be constructed within the boundaries of the park.
This is the second image I took of the Grand Canyon. The multicolored and clearly delineated rock layers, including sandstone, limestone, shale, schist, and others, range in age from 2 billion years old at the bottom of the canyon to 250 million years old at the top, nearly one mile above the Colorado River.
Beginning from Lees Ferry on the east to Grand Wash Cliffs on the west, the Grand Canyon measures 277 miles in length (at 280 miles, the state of Colorado is 3 miles longer from its northern to southern borders) . Two great manmade structures bounding the Grand Canyon, Glen Canyon Dam and Hoover Dam, create two immense reservoirs, Lake Powell and Lake Mead respectively, to manage the Colorado River’s water flow.
As it flows through the Grand Canyon, the Colorado River has an average depth of 35 feet and a width that varies from 76 feet to 300 feet. During normal operations of Glen Canyon Dam (and when the American Southwest isn’t enduring its ongoing decades-long drought), almost 130,000 gallons of water moves through the canyon’s inner gorge every second – enough to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool in 5 seconds. The volume of water released through the canyon is often dependent on municipal electricity demands from cities as far away as Los Angeles. The Colorado River used to flow 1,450 miles from La Poudre Pass in Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park all the way to the Gulf of California; municipal and agricultural demands on the river in the southwestern United States cause the river to gradually dry out shortly after crossing into Mexico.
We’ve all seen plenty of canyons across the country and around the world, most of which are easily identifiable by the watercourse that originally carved them. But, in many places, the Colorado River isn’t visible from the rim of the Grand Canyon – there are too many smaller canyons, many of which would be significant geologic features on their own anywhere else – that block the view. The Grand Canyon is a supercanyon of canyons. (This is the third photo I took of the Grand Canyon, by the way. I took hundreds. I won’t post them all, I promise.)Here, then, is the fifth photo I took of the Grand Canyon. We weren’t the only visitors to the national park that day. This is a group of people at Mather Point, one of the larger overlooks that extends into the canyon. Clear days at Mather Point provide views of up to 30 miles to the east and 60 miles to the west. The overlook, along with a campground in the national park, is named after Stephen Tying Mather (1867-1930), the first director of the National Park Service.Here we see a visitor (it’s Gunther) to Grand Canyon who, like me, is experiencing his first few hours at the national park. Gunther was able to join us on our first visit to the canyon’s South Rim, which has a mostly paved walking trail extending 13 miles. That’s Mather Point in the left mid-background.At an elevation of 7,000 feet above sea level, the South Rim of the canyon features an extensive ponderosa pine forest. The campground in which we parked the Goddard was a very pleasant one-mile walk through this forest, which also includes Gambel oak, mountain mahogany, and elderberry shrubs, to the canyon. And there were elk in the forest. Lots and lots of elk. On a couple of occasions, we saw elk grazing perhaps 10 feet from our fifth-wheel home. Some local residents we met on the trail said the elk, just prior to big-game hunting season in the fall, have an uncanny ability to move from the Kaibab National Forest into the protected lands of Grand Canyon National Park.I took this photo with a wide-angle lens in a vain attempt to capture some of the vistas from the rim of the Grand Canyon. This is looking west-northwest further west from the Visitor Center, down the park’s Rim Trail. In the direct middle of the photograph is a light-brown spot, at the bottom of the canyon. Yep, that’s the Colorado River, a mile below the rim and probably two miles north of this viewpoint. The temperatures at the bottom of the canyon are typically 30 degrees higher than at the rim.The Rim Trail, which follows 13 miles of the South Rim, has a pretty nifty display called the Trail of Time in which millions (and billions) of years of the earth’s existence are represented by steps on the 1.5-mile section of trail. The intent is to illustrate the incredible amounts of time that are represented by the different types of rocks found in the canyon, with more than a dozen clearly defined layers from top to bottom of the canyon. The further along the Trail of Time you walk, the (figuratively) further back in time you go. Along the way are representative rocks from the different depths of the Grand Canyon. Pictured here is a pretty sample called Rama Schist, which is from a part of the canyon that’s just under 1.8 million years old. Geologists believe that the Colorado River began forming the Grand Canyon by carving through the 250-million-year-old Kaibab Plateau layer about 6 million years ago, meaning the canyon is only 2.4 percent as old as even its uppermost (and youngest) rock layer. Since then, it has only carved deeper and the canyon is now a mile deep – although its erosional power has been greatly reduced by manmade dams upriver.Here’s another view. looking west-northwest again, a little further down the Rim Trail. The mighty Colorado, still a light brown smudge, is in the lower right corner of this image. I was not expecting so much tree growth at the top of the canyon, but the Rim Trail is heavily shaded for long stretches.
The South Rim of the Grand Canyon receives about 15 inches of precipitation annually, while the North Rim receives just over two feet. The winter of 2022-2023 was an exception, at least for the North Rim. While we were at the South Rim in late April 2023, there was still snow visible on some north-facing walls of the canyon. Because of huge amounts of snowfall during the winter of 2022-2023, the roads leading to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon wouldn’t open until early June.
One more wide-angle view, which depicts some the thousands of smaller canyons in the park that lead into the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River is visible in this image, just to the lower-left of center and to the right of the tree limbs.
The Grand Canyon was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979. Those sites are deemed to contain “cultural and natural heritage around the world to be considered of outstanding value to humanity.” These sites must be unique, geographically and historically identifiable, have a special cultural or physical significance, and be under a system of legal protection. UNESCO World Heritage Sites can be ancient ruins, deserts, islands, mountains, wilderness areas, and other natural or manmade features. As of July 2024, UNESCO had recognized just over 1,200 World Heritage Sites; Mesa Verde in Colorado and Yellowstone in Wyoming are examples of other U.S. national parks that are also UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
Leaving Gunther at home for a few hours one day, Nancy and I went on a great hike down into the canyon on the South Kaibab Trail to see this view looking across the eastern Grand Canyon. The sign at lower right indicates viewers’ usual reactions.Here we see an intrepid hiker (it’s Nancy) making her way from Ooh Aah Point, beginning the return to the canyon rim on the South Kaibab Trail. This view is looking north.This view, from a point about as far west as we walked on the Rim Trail, is looking east toward the Visitor Center. The zig-zagging line at the bottom of the image is the Bright Angel trail, which Nancy hiked with friends some years ago. It’s an aggressive hike.One more view of the Mather Point overlook: on the morning of April 25, 2023, Nancy and Gunther and I got up early to watch the sunrise at Grand Canyon National Park. The low angle of the dawn’s rays gave the canyon’s features added depth and still more colors that we hadn’t yet seen. This is nearly the same perspective as the fourth photograph in this blog, but compare the coloration and shadows between the two images. The sun has risen on this landscape 2.2 billion times since the Colorado River began carving the canyon. This was just one of those times, but it was still spectacular.
If you’ve been to Grand Canyon National Park, you know this: it’s a must-see park; if you haven’t been, know this: you must see it. The views are simply unmatched, at least in my experience, and the hiking opportunities range from level and paved trails to “park rangers may not be able to come rescue you,” with everything in between.
For such a recent addition to the Earth’s surface (seriously, 6 million years of erosion on this planet is absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things), the Grand Canyon is an amazing spectacle that really has to be seen in person to get a full appreciation of its beauty. As much as I’ve gone on and on about it, you won’t be prepared when you see it, either.
I’ve been reading “Riders of the Purple Sage,” one of Zane Grey’s early books that helped shape the Western novel formula. Publishing the book in 1918, Grey (1872-1930) was inspired to write a Western story after reading Owen Wister’s “The Virginian” (1902). It would be the most popular of Grey’s 90 books (it’s estimated that he wrote 9 million words in his career). Later prolific western authors like Max Brand and Louis L’Amour were heavily influenced by Grey; L’Amour himself wrote 89 novels and 14 collections of short stories. “Riders of the Purple Sage” has been adapted for film five times: in 1918 and `1925 (both were silent movies), 1931, 1941, and a 1996 TV movie starring Ed Harris and Amy Madigan (who have been married to each other since 1983).
Although I’ve read “The Virginian” and lots of Louis L’Amour’s books, I’ve never read a Zane Grey novel (my only point of reference to Grey was knowing that Colonel Sherman Potter of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital was a big fan). I’ve been struck how, in “Riders of the Purple Sage,” Grey deftly describes the canyons, mesas, and flatlands of southern Utah, the setting of the book. The characterization and dialog in the book are definitely of their time, but the story itself is pretty exciting and Grey was quite skilled at painting, in words, how the incredible scenery of the region appears.
Reading “Riders of the Purple Sage” reminded me of when we were in southern Utah and northern Arizona for an extended visit in 2023. We’d planned to stay in Fredonia, Arizona, for four weeks so that we could visit a couple of national parks and monuments in the region. Mechanical issues with The Goddard, our fifth-wheel trailer, extended our stay for an additional week. We were unable to lower the front jacks of our trailer, which meant that it had to stay hitched to the six-wheeled towing unit. A very competent RV technician was able to help us manually lower the jacks and we were able to unhitch our F-350, and he later fixed the jack-lowering issue (turns out a rodent probably chewed through a wire while we were camping at the south rim of the Grand Canyon; lesson learned is to never go to the Grand Canyon again). At any rate, our extended stay while waiting for RV parts was a fortunate one as we were able to visit the north rim of the Grand Canyon, which, due to snow, didn’t open until early June that year.
This post, however, is not about either rim of the Grand Canyon but rather a manmade lake in Utah. Our campground was in Fredonia, Arizona, about four miles south of the Arizona/Utah border. We spent quite a bit of time in Kanab, Utah (itself about four miles north of the border), partly because we found a reservoir near Kanab that offered great hiking and birding opportunities. We visited the lake three times in late May and early June, and this post has pictures from all of those excursions. We saw lots of different species of birds, and we were fortunate to have timed our visit for some pretty impressive displays of blossoming plants.
The average depth of Jackson Flat Reservoir is only 28 feet. It’s primarily a holding reservoir for irrigation water, but the lake receives plenty of non-motorized boating, hiking, swimming, fishing, and stargazing enthusiasts. The sage in this photo isn’t purple like in the Zane Grey book, but maybe it’s due to the time of day that I took the picture.
Jackson Flat Reservoir, located between Kanab and the state line, had been in its planning stages for nearly two decades when construction began in 2010. The reservoir meets local agricultural irrigation needs, and is also a wonderful boating, swimming, and hiking destination for Kanab residents. Built to a capacity of 4,228 acre-feet, the reservoir attracts a large number of waterfowl and other birds to southeast Utah.
Birds with predominantly black coloration are frustratingly difficult to photograph unless the lighting is just right; I really like the pattern on this common loon (Chondestes grammacus) so I decided to include the picture in this posting. Nancy and I watched this bird for quite some time; it would disappear under the water for up to a minute at a time, and it was kind of fun to guess where he’d pop back up. Their diet consists mostly of crustaceans and small fish. Common loons are found all over the United States – it’s likely how they got their name.Writing of “common,” here’s a common raven (Corvus corax) behind a juniper bush, looking much like a Muppet. True to their name, these birds are the most common of corvids (a family of birds that also includes crows, magpies, and jays), and, weighing in at 3.2 pounds at maturity, they are the largest of the passerine order (basically birds that perch, about half of the species on the planet). On our walks around the lake, we saw several ravens being chased in the air by red-winged blackbirds that were presumably defending their nests.Writing of which, here’s a red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) patrolling water’s edge. “But Ken,” you might think to yourself, “this bird is neither red-winged nor black.” I would agree with you, and likely add that it looks like one of the 70 million species of brown-colored sparrows. This is, however, a female red-winged blackbird, which do not have the black color and red wing markings of the males of the species. You can differentiate a female red-winged blackbird from a sparrow by looking at the beak: it’s much more pointed and angular than say, …… the beak of this brown-colored sparrow. This is a lark sparrow (Chondestes grammacus), a species we seemingly see sparingly, but is actually fairly common and distributed throughout most of the United States and Mexico. To remind us that we were in an arid desert environment, there were several varieties of cactus growing around the reservoir. This is tulip prickly pear (Opuntia phaeacantha) featuring riotously vibrant colors on its blossoms. Whenever I see bright colors like this on flowers, or a bird, or a tropical fish, I think, “There’s a color not found in nature.” But they are literally found in nature. This is the road over the dam of Jackson Flat Reservoir, with the cliffs of southern Utah in the distance. The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument’s western border is just to the right edge of this photograph. The reservoir’s dam contains 800,000 yards of dirt and rocks. One thing I like to do when seeing a reservoir’s dam is to cry out “Dam!” I wonder if Nancy ever gets tired of me doing that. I should probably ask her sometime. We see a lot of dams.Some of the waterfowl we saw were far away from the trail that goes around the reservoir. This was a new species to us, so I decided to include it even though it’s a terrible photo. This is a black-necked stilt (Chondestes grammacus). It’s found in the western United States and down into Mexico, and in quite a bit of South America as well. They are about 15 inches tall, with long pink legs and a wingspan of close to 30 inches. Like other shorebirds, black-necked stilts use their long bills and beaks to feed on freshwater shrimp, as well as crayfish and small fish. Species like these have no business being in the arid desert of southern Utah, except for the existence of Jackson Flat Reservoir – it’s a great benefit to area residents to be able to see birds like this.Indian paintbrush has long been one of my favorite wildflowers. There are more than 200 species of this plant; I’m pretty sure this is Wyoming Indian paintbrush (Castilleja linariifolia), which is the state flower of … Wyoming.THIS IS A TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. Movement at the side of the trail around the reservoir attracted our attention to this western fence lizard, a very common reptile in the western United States. Note the blue patch on his throat; that blue shading also extends to his stomach (I’m guessing; I didn’t pick this rascal up to check) and leads to another name for the lizard: the bluebelly. There are five subspecies of western fence lizards; they have a SVL (snout-vent length) of 2.25 to 3.5 inches.As I wrote earlier, we happened to time our visits to Jackson Flat Reservoir when many flowering plants were blossoming. The flowering of this plant, desert globemallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua), lasted throughout our entire stay in the region: it was everywhere. It generally grows to a height of three feet, and is host to the caterpillar stage of a number of butterfly and moth species.Writing of which, here’s a butterfly species called the mourning cloak (Nymphalis antiopa). This butterfly is found in both North America and Europe. Because it feeds on sap from trees and shrubs, it’s not a significant pollinator.Back to birds: here is a couple of double-crested cormorants (Nannopterum auritum), contemplating a cooling dip in the waters of Jackson Flat Reservoir. Although they are definitely water birds, their feathers are not waterproof and they are often seen standing on the shore with their wings spread out in order to dry off. Their diet is exclusively fish-based.One of the facets of birding that I really like is the opportunity to see pairs of a particular species. The males and females of many species are often seen close together, and you get the opportunity to see how the two genders differ in appearance. This is a pair of ruddy ducks (Oxyura jamaicensis), easily identified by the male’s bright blue bill which only appears that way during the summer months (it’s gray the rest of the year).There are a number of really distinctive-looking birds of which I’d only seen pictures or video footage of, but never in real life until Nancy and I started full-time RVing. I’ll never forget seeing a wood duck in real life for the first time (at a state park in Albuquerque, New Mexico), or a scarlet tanager (at a campground in Tucson, Arizona), a common loon (on a lake in western Michigan), a northern cardinal (at a campground in Oklahoma) or a greater roadrunner (at a campground in Albuquerque). I’ve now seen all of those species several times in the last three years, but it’s always a thrill to see them again. The Gambel’s quail (Callipepla gambelii) is another of those birds: I first saw them at a regional park outside of Phoenix, Arizona, and I’ve seen them many times since then, but it’s still really fun to encounter them because of their distinctive appearance. This species is native to the American Southwest, and is also found in parts of Colorado and Texas.Gunther found this lovely stand of desert mallow on a walk near our campground in Fredonia. During our stay in northern Arizona, we saw about 50 kajillion of these flowers; at times, the landscape looked like a sea of pink-orange coral. But “Riders of the Pink-Orange Desert Mallow” doesn’t really have the right zing, and Zane Grey was probably right to title his novel the way he did.
We were fortunate to be near south-central Utah’s Bryce Canyon National Park on June 8, 2023 – the date happened to be the one hundredth anniversary of the park’s founding as a national monument. We had to leave Gunther at home (no dogs are allowed on the park’s trails, which is perfectly understandable) so we weren’t able to stick around for centennial celebratory cake at the park’s visitor center; however, if the cake was half as good as the park’s views, it was some mighty fine cake.
Because of its remote location, Bryce Canyon National Park receives significantly fewer annual visitors than nearby Zion National Park or Grand Canyon National Park. Kanab, Utah (pop. 4,800 and a stone’s throw from the Utah/Arizona border) is the closest town of any size, and it’s an hour-and-a-half drive away.
Ummm … yeah. The world is full of natural wonders, and the United States is home to quite a few of those places, and the Rocky Mountain West boasts its fair share of incredible views, but Utah is just stacked with scenic sites – it includes five national parks within its borders. The uncountable vertical rock formations in the foreground, boasting hues of red, yellow, and white, are called hoodoos. They’re formed, as are most really cool rock formations, by erosional processes. Bryce Canyon National Park contains the world’s greatest concentration of hoodoos.
Bryce Canyon National Park is the easternmost and highest “step” in the Grand Staircase, an immense geologic structure stretching across 100 miles of southern Utah and Arizona. The Grand Staircase includes two dozen distinct layers of rocks representing 525 million years of sedimentation from ancient inland seas, lakes, swamps, and forests. Arizona’s Grand Canyon contains the oldest rock layers and forms the western and lowest edge of the Grand Staircase.
Bryce Canyon National Park: By The Numbers
Date established as a national park
February 5, 1928 (declared a national monument on June 8, 1923)
Total area
35,835 acres (56 square miles, about one-seventh the size of Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado)
Yearly visitors
2.4 million (RMNP receives 4.3 million)
Highest point
Rainbow Point, at 9,105 feet
Lowest point
Yellow Creek, at 6,620 feet
Despite its name, there aren’t any significant geologic canyons in the national park – the erosion of the limestone cliffs into the hoodoos and other formations we see today is mostly the work of frozen water rather than a flowing river. Between 55 and 35 million years ago, what is now Utah was a basin filled with mountains. Rivers in those mountains deposited tremendous amounts of dissolved limestone into huge lakes. About 20 million years ago, the Colorado Plateau was uplifted and the lakes were drained to expose the limestone layers that form the beautiful rock formations of Bryce Canyon. Erosional forces, including freezing and thawing water as well as rain and snow, over the ensuing years carved cliffs out of the limestone, which were eventually further sculpted into narrow walls called fins and then eventually rows of the rounded columnar formations called hoodoos; if you look at pictures of hoodoos and imagine the spaces filled with rock, that’s what the fins used to look like.
Although the skies weren’t crystal-clear the day we visited the national park, we still had some incredible views from the overlooks. This image was taken looking east. In addition to the marvelous rock walls and hoodoos in the foreground, formations 20 miles away and even further could be easily seen. Canaan Peak has an elevation of 9,293 feet. A winding hiking trail can be seen in the mid-foreground on the right side of this image.The national park’s namesake, Ebenezer Bryce, was born in Scotland in 1830. He was a ship’s carpenter and, after converting to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, emigrated to the United States in 1848. He married Mary Park in Salt Lake City in 1854, and the family (which then included five children; he and Mary would have a total of 12) moved to southern Utah’s Pine Valley in 1862. Shortly thereafter, he moved to a homestead in the nearby Paria Valley which is south of the present-day national park. He built a road for timber access that ended in a natural bowl-shaped area, or amphitheater; that area became known as “Bryce’s Canyon.” In 1880, he and his family moved to Arizona, near Pima, where he passed away in 1913. [Photo courtesy Washington County (Utah) Historical Society.]The name of this pretty flower, the sego lily (Calochortus nuttallii), derives from a word (“sikoo”) in the language of the Shoshone, who taught early (and hungry) Mormons that nearly all of the plant, including the bulb, is edible. The plant’s value as an important pioneer foodstuff later led to the adoption of the sego lily as Utah’s state flower in 1911. The large-grained grass at left is Indian ricegrass (Eriocoma hymenoides), also an important part of native Americans’ diets. It is the state grass of both Utah and Nevada.The second column from left shows a “window,” in which the erosional power of frozen water, in the form of snow, frost, and ice, wedges small crevices into larger openings. It’s very likely that frost and rain will erode away the rock forming the top of the window, resulting in the columnar shapes called hoodoos. Because of its elevation, Bryce Canyon National Park experiences freezing temperatures half of the nights of the year.After enjoying the views from several overlooks while on a scenic drive around the park, we embarked on a fairly challenging hike in the early afternoon that combined the Navajo Loop with the Queen’s Garden Loop. It gave us the opportunity to walk on wooded footpaths, see plenty of wildflowers and birds, and marvel up-close at the rock formations. These hikers are walking past some hoodoos that have several windows.Here’s a view of the Queen’s Garden Loop namesake: if you squint at the top of the hoodoo just left of center, you can kind of maybe sort of make out something that resembles Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland (1819-1901). Did You Know/Care: there are almost 160 statues of Queen Victoria around the world. Also, I think it’s fun to imagine Queen Victoria saying the word “hoodoo.”THIS IS A TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. Western fence lizards (Sceloporus occidentalis) have a wide distribution throughout the American West, and can live at elevations ranging from sea level all the way up to almost 11,000 feet. You can just begin to make out the most distinguishing characteristic of this species, its bright blue belly (look behind the right front leg).Nancy and I are both very experienced hikers and both of us recognize the need for switchbacks, or gradual increases in elevation by constructing a trail across the slope of an incline. These switchbacks at the end of the hike that day were the most in a relatively short distance that we’ve ever seen. It seemed like we walked 30 miles just to gain 300 feet of altitude. Still, it was an intensely rewarding hike and it was a great end to a great day at Bryce Canyon National Park.Looking northeast, this overlook at the end of the Queen’s Garden Loop awaits after that significant set of serious switchbacks. I mean, I’m writing this post one year after our visit to the park and I’m still just shaking my head at the views we experienced.THIS IS A BONUS TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. This horned lizard was not at Bryce Canyon National Park, but in our campsite near Hatch, Utah, where we stayed for the week during our visit to the park. Horned lizards (I believe this is a greater short-horned lizard) are extremely well-camouflaged little creatures. Our campground was only 32 miles from Bryce Canyon National Park, but the winding drive took 45 minutes. We may have missed out on centennial-celebrating cake so we could make sure Gunther got outside for his afternoon walk, but, between the overlooks and hike we enjoyed, it was well worth it. Because of its remote location, Bryce Canyon is definitely a park that you have to want to get to, and that’s okay by us (but you should totally want to get to it).
El Malpais (pr. el-mal-pie-EES) National Monument, located near the town of Grants in northwestern New Mexico, showcases a number of different geological features in its nearly 180 square miles – but it’s best known for its impressive lava flows dating from 60,000 to only 4,000 years ago.
While Native Americans have lived in the El Malpais area for 12,000 years, early 17th-century Spanish explorers coming north from Mexico found the region nearly impassable by their horse-drawn wagons and carts. Those explorers gave the region its name, which means “the bad land” in Spanish and refers to the rocky topography left behind by the extensive lava flows.
El Malpais National Monument was established on Dec. 31, 1987, and about 100,000 people visit it each year.
We camped for a week in Grants and visited several different features of the national monument. The highlight, however, was a great hike that took us to the top of a cinder cone from which much of the monument’s lava had flowed.
The El Calderon Trail is located on the western side of the national monument – it happened to be only a 20-mile drive from Grants. We’re still trying to adjust to being on trails that aren’t in Colorado: there were two other vehicles in the trailhead’s parking lot when we arrived at 10 AM, and in the entire course of the 5-mile loop hike, we saw nearly as many dogs (two) as we did people (three).
This iGoogle Maps satellite image, in which a quarter-inch represents two miles, shows nearly the entirety of El Malpais National Monument. The monument’s visitor center fs indicated at the top, and just to the left is the town of Grants, New Mexico, where we parked the Goddard for a week in April 2024. Grants is on Interstate 40 about halfway between the Arizona/New Mexico state line and the city of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Everything represented in dark greenish-black in the lower two-thirds of the image is basalt, or lava rock; the greenish hue is provided by plant life amongst the basalt. The town of Grants, too, is surrounded by basalt.
Shortly after the trailhead, the El Calderon trail passes by several caves that are actually lava tubes and are now home to bat populations. Lava tubes are formed when flowing lava exits an existing lava vent covered with a roof of lava rock, leaving behind a cave-like structure.
Here we see a brave hiker (it’s Nancy) at the entrance to Bat Cave in the national monument. This lava tube is a summer home for thousands of Mexican free-tailed bats that emerge at night to hunt for insects. There is still evidence of a guano mining operation in Bat Cave; bat droppings are high in nitrates and therefore valuable as fertilizer. We learned at Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky that guano was also once used in the production of gunpowder. To protect the flying mammal population, Bat Cave in El Malpais National Monument is closed to human visitors.Much of the El Calderon trail looks like this: relatively flat, with expansive views, through a moderately wooded forest with several different species of pine trees and evergreen shrubs.There weren’t many wildflowers in bloom when we hiked the El Calderon Trail on April 20, but we’d just missed the blossoms of the tree cholla (Cylindropuntia imbricata). Also known as cane cholla, this cactus typically grows to a height of 3 feet, but can reach 15 feet. The flowers are a very bright magenta color, and the yellow fruits, shaped roughly like a pinecone, can last on the plant for a long time. They apparently don’t taste great, but the Native Americans of present-day Arizona and New Mexico did use them as a food source.This is a TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. I’d walked by this pair of horned lizards on the lava rocks lining the trail without seeing them but they didn’t escape the notice of Gunther, who Nancy had on a leash behind me. I was able to get several photos of them before we moved on down the trail. Their camouflage really is amazing – if they hadn’t moved as I passed by, Nancy said Gunther probably wouldn’t have seen them either.This is a close-up of the lizard in the background of the above photo. There are 21 species of horned lizards in the world, 15 of which are native to the United States. Five of them reside in El Malpais National Monument, and, without being familiar with any of them, I’ll just say this is one of those five species (although based on the coloration and locality I’m leaning toward a greater short-horned lizard, or Phrynosoma hernandesi). Horned lizards are often called horned toads, but they’re not toads or even amphibians at all: they are reptiles. It’s somehow reassuring to know that dinosaurs still walk among us, however small they may be. Females of the short-horned lizard species grow to about 7 centimeters (2.75 inches) SVL, while males grow to only 5 centimeters SVL. What’s SVL, you ask? I had to look it up as well: it’s an abbreviation for a herpetology term called snout-vent length (basically the length of the lizard not including the tail).The entire trail was lined with readily available lava rocks, which made for interesting viewing while hiking because of all of the different textures. Each was different, but the trailbuilders used rocks that were roughly a foot in height and width. One can only imagine the scene 115,000 years ago, when these rocks were being created: what did it look like, sound like, and smell like?We’ve seen plenty of lava tubes in Hawaii, Idaho, and now New Mexico, but I don’t think we’ve ever seen a distinct lava trench. They are formed in the same way as lava tubes, but the roof of the tube collapses soon after the lava of the tube cools. Water collects in the bottom of these trenches, allowing trees and other foliage to grow larger than their counterparts outside the trench.This is the side of the El Calderon cinder cone, from which rivers of magma flowed about 60,000 years ago to create immense rivers of lava that found their way 20 miles north to the present-day town of Grants. A cinder cone is formed when gravel-sized bits of lava are shot hundreds of feet into the air from a volcanic vent in the ground. The billions of tiny cinders fall back to earth and eventually form a cone-like structure; El Calderon is 300 feet high. The two different colors of cinders – red and black – indicate different mineral composition and different eruption periods. The trail includes an optional loop around the top of the cinder cone — it was a 300 foot gain in elevation, but the views were well worth the effort.This is a view looking northeast from the top of the El Calderon cinder cone (the side of the cinder cone pictured above is directly below this position). The red cinders contain high levels of oxidized iron: essentially, rust. On the far left of the photo one can just barely make out the snow-covered top of Mount Taylor (elev. 11,305 feet), about 30 miles away on the other side of the nearer hills. Mount Taylor is an extinct volcano that last erupted about 1.5 million years ago – long before the volcanic activity on El Malpais National Monument occurred. It is a mountain sacred to a number of Native American pueblos, including the Acoma, Zuni, Hopi, Laguna, and Navajo.This is a view looking down into the interior of El Calderon, fairly close to where the previous photo was taken but in the opposite direction. It’s a peaceful basin filled with pine trees and grasses now, but it was the source of all of those lava cinders shooting upwards into the sky when the volcano was active 60,000 years ago. El Calderon translates to “the cauldron” in Spanish.Time for lunch – trailside! We heard, but could not see, a couple of different birds singing in some nearby pines during our lunch. Afterwards, I got a couple of pictures of them. The pictures didn’t turn out well at all (they were still far away and the skies were overcast), but it turns out that they were gray flycatchers (Empidonax wrightii), and, judging by the grass in their beaks, they were building a nest.We saw these white growths on nearly every rubber rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa) plant we saw on the hike. Nancy asked what they were and I replied that they were spider egg cases, each just waiting to pop with up to 100 individual spiderlings. She refused to believe me, which was probably the right thing to do, but it meant that I later had to look up what they really are. It turns out my wild guess wasn’t very far from the truth: they’re called galls, and they are home to larvae of a fruit fly. The galls, produced by the plant’s reaction to irritating chemicals introduced by the parasitic insect, act as both a home and a food source for the larvae. They don’t appear to harm the rabbitbrush plant at all.It’s a little difficult to make out in this picture, but there’s a tree species we weren’t expecting to see in northern New Mesico on the other side of the fallen log, just left of center. It’s an aspen tree, which is made possible by what the scientists call “the edge effect,” or additional moisture that collects along the area where lava fields meet conventional landscapes. The edge effect allows plants that need additional moisture, like aspens, to thrive in otherwise harsh environments.I thought the smooth side of this hunk of basalt was interesting: it indicates that the lava was moving fairly quickly as it cooled. Lava fields, after they cool and begin to erode, make for fairly good habitat for plants: the basaltic rocks hold a lot of water and trap a good variety of airborne seeds.The skies above us unfortunately still chose to be overcast when we saw this western bluebird (Sialia mexicana) perched on an oft-used branch, but the bird’s bright colors still impressed us. Western bluebirds are members of the thrush family, and their diet consists of worms and berries found on the ground as well as insects plucked from the air.The trail on the right side of this photo is the 2,700-mile-long Continental Divide Trail, which meets and shares some distance with the El Calderon Trail. If one were to follow that path, one would wind up at the Canadian border with Montana. We elected to continue on our loop to the El Calderon trailhead instead.
The hike to El Calderon was one of the more rewarding trails Nancy and I have been on in a long time: fantastic views, lots of fascinating geologic features, a good variety of plants, and a bit of wildlife to observe.
There is a lot of geology to appreciate about El Malpais National Monument, and not all of it has to do with lava. On a weekday evening, Gunther and Nancy and I drove to the east side of the monument to see two sandstone features: La Ventana and a sandstone bluffs overlook.
About 160 million years ago, the El Malpais area looked a lot like today’s Sahara Desert: covered with hundreds of feet of sand that, compressed by other layers of sediment, eventually formed sandstone. This arch, formed by the weathering effects of freezing and thawing water trapped in the sediment over millions of years, is 135 feet across and only 25 feet wide at its thinnest point. Spanish explorers called this arch “La Ventana,” or “the window.” It is one of the largest natural stone arches in the state of New Mexico.This is a sandstone bluff overlook that provides great views of the basaltic lava flows hundreds of feet below. More than 200 volcanic vents have been identified in the national monument, and this sandstone is tens of millions of years older than any of them.
Nancy and I both have more than a passing interest in geology, and especially volcanoes, so El Malpais National Monument was a great place to spend a week. We spent the summer of 2023 surrounded by volcanic features in Idaho, and it was fun to once again be amongst these reminders in New Mexico that our planet continues to reshape itself all the time.
Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is big – really big. In fact, although it’s the seventh-largest U.S. national monument by size, it’s the biggest in the country that’s not either entirely in or adjacent to an ocean. At 1.87 million acres (just over 2,900 square miles), the national monument is nearly twice as big as the entire state of Rhode Island, and just a tad bigger than the state of Delaware.
This area in southern Utah is vast, and it is remote: it was the last part of the contiguous United States to be mapped by the federal government. Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument was authorized by President Bill Clinton in 1996. This is also one of the more contentious federal properties; President Donald Trump effectively halved its acreage in 2017, and then President Joe Biden restored it to its current size in 2021. It is the first national monument to be administered solely by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).
(A brief sidenote: the U.S. government’s holding of lands, especially at the levels of national monuments and especially those in the western United States, is criticized by some groups and lauded by others. Much of these lands frankly isn’t good for anything except looking beautiful and supporting native plants and animals – which, in the eyes of some, is more than enough reason to provide federal protection. Other groups are interested not so much in the lands themselves, but what’s under the lands’ surfaces: minerals, petroleum, and other extractive materials. Everyone from kayakers to native Americans to miners to anglers to ranchers to tourists wanting a scenic drive has an opinion on what should and shouldn’t happen on these lands. U.S. presidents are able to establish and change landholdings under national monument status as they see fit; acts of Congress are needed to establish or change national parks. I’m someone who enjoys nature quite a lot, but I also realize that I use minerals and petroleum extracted from the earth nearly every minute of every day – in the laptop I’m typing on, in the fifth-wheel trailer in which we live, and in the iPhone and digital camera with which the following photos were taken. You most likely are equally dependent on those extractive resources. As with most issues in life, it takes a balance. Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is especially contentious because county and state governments also want to maintain at least some control over what can and can’t happen within its borders.)
(That sidenote was less brief than I’d expected.)
Anywho, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument takes up a sizable chunk of southeastern Utah. It protects three major areas: the Grand Staircase, the Kaiparowits Plateau, and the Canyons of the Escalante. The Grand Staircase is so named because of its stepped appearance if viewed from the side: from west to east, the landscape drops in elevation in enormous eroded and even layers. The steps drop, west to east, in cliffs measured in hundreds of feet. The area represents 400 million years of geologic development.
The views at Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument are simply spectacular. The monument is bordered by Bryce Canyon National Park on its western edge and by Glen Canyon National Recreation Atea on its eastern side.
One fun thing to do in these federally protected lands is to go on a hike, and that’s what Nancy and I did in late May of 2023. The Toadstool Trail leads to some wonderful rock formations and other features of this otherworldly environment. In its easy out-and-back 1.5 miles, one can see rocks eroded from water, rain, and other elements to create some pretty stunning scenery. We happened to visit the area when a number of flowering desert plants were in bloom, which was great to see.
We visited the national monument on a beautiful day in late spring, when there was little chance of rain, but there was plenty of evidence that the area receives considerable amounts of moisture at times. This ravine was cut by a seasonal watercourse; the hiking trail is at the far right of the photo. Note the coloration of the different layers of rocks in the cliffside.This pretty flower is a sego lily (Calochortus nuttallii), which happens to be the state flower of Utah. We saw quite a few of these blossoms, which can measure up to three inches across, on the hike. “Sego” is believed to derive from the Shoshone name of the plant.There’s a lot going on in that cliff, not the least of which is the wavy nature of the rock layers on the left. I took this photo from a U-bend in the trail (it continues on the left and right of the photo) and you can see some hikers near the center of the photo.This is a TALES OF THE GODDARD LIZARD ALERT. I’m not an expert on reptile identification (I’m not really an expert on anything, come to think of it), but I believe this to be a common side-blotched lizard (Uta stansburiana). They grow to a length of about 2.5 inches not including the tail, which is often longer than the body. Judging from the Wikipedia page on these little rascals, a lot of the scientists have spent a lot of time observing this species. This is a lizard that can safely lose its tail to escape a predator, but that comes at a terrible cost: loss of social status within a group of other common side-blotched lizards. We saw several of these lizards and all still had their tails, so we were among the elite. This isn’t the first lizard species to live in the area; researchers have found fossils of several different dinosaurs within the borders of the monument.This is the largest rock formation from which the Toadstools Trail gets its name, and it’s plenty spectacular. If I had to guess, I’d say the column is about 25 feet tall. Formations like this occur when softer rock under harder, denser rock is eroded away. These are basically small buttes, with more material underneath the surface caprock taken away by water, wind, and other erosional forces, to form a toadstool formation.I thought this rock wall was interesting because it shows not just the colors of the different rock layers, but the different density of the layers as well: note the edge-on layers of rocks upon which less-dense layers, which are disintegrating faster, were deposited over millions of years.The bright blossoms of this plains pricklypear (Opuntia polyacantha) were hard to miss in an otherwise tan-colored environment. The flowers of this species of cactus can be yellow, red, or magenta, as on this specimen. These plants provide a source of food for quite a few animals, like prairie dogs and pronghorns, and many people enjoy eating the fruit (if animals haven’t gotten to them first) once the blossoms are spent.Although the larger toadstools are very impressive, the rock formation – a column supporting a wider, flat cap of harder stone – is fairly common in the area. They make for some interesting viewing opportunities.This is Coulter’s lupine (Lupinus sparsiflorus), also known as Mohave lupine or desert lupine. The plants grow to a maximum height of about 16 inches. We’ve seen this pretty flower elsewhere in the deserts of the western United States; it, along with the other plants that happen to be flowering at the time, provides a nice pop of color.This blurry photo is unfortunately the best of three I took before this rock wren (Salpinctes obsoletus) took off to raise havoc somewhere else. This species, fairly common in the western part of the country, is adapted to cling to rock faces while hunting for insects and spiders.Shortly after we’d started this hike, another hiker suggested that we continue walking past the main toadstool formations for some really nice views, more toadstools, and balanced rocks. We took his advice, and we’re glad we did. I’m going to guess that it’s six or eight miles to the horizon. Here we see a lone hiker (it’s Nancy) looking west; Kanab, Utah, is about 40 miles thataway.In this very arid environment, anything that moves and (especially) is not some shade of brown quickly catches your eye. This caterpillar is the larval stage of a really nifty moth called the white-lined sphinx, or hummingbird moth (Hyles lineata). The adult version of this species can be easily mistaken for a hummingbird as it hovers over blossoming flowers. The species is very common from central America up into Canada, including most of the United States. The spike at the back end of the caterpillar isn’t a stinger but it does give this larval form another name: hornworm. They aren’t harmful to humans but given a big enough population, these voracious eaters can destroy cultivated crops and flowers. Conversely, the adult moth form is beneficial for plants because of its ability to pollinate while feeding.That hiker who suggested that we continue our walk past the main formations was absolutely right, and we were able to see some really pretty toadstools and long vistasThe yellow blossom on the left is red dome blanketflower (Gaillardia pinnatifida), while the white blossom belongs to a flowering plant called birdcage evening primrose (Oenothera deltoides). Because they don’t require a lot of care, blanketflower species are very popular in home flower gardens – I planted some of them in our xeriscaped lawn in Denver.The cliffs, toadstools, balanced rocks, and other rock formations in the national monument were created by erosion and plenty of time. I’m including this photo to show how even tiny trickles of water coming down a rock face can create really interesting designs.Native American cultures arrived in what is now the national monument around 1,500 years ago. There are hundreds of petroglyphs that document those peoples’ existence in the area, and the rock in the foreground looks to have two of them. This was at the mouth of a very short canyon eroded into a cliff wall.Here’s a closeup of one of the petroglyphs on the rock pictured above. I have no reason to think it’s not genuine, but I sure can’t think of any horned quadrupeds that also have long tails. Maybe it’s a depiction of something else entirely.On the way back to the trailbead, another hiker with a digital camera and long lens was as excited as me to see this bird about 50 yards away from us. We couldn’t identify the species at that distance, so I was certainly looking forward to getting back to the Goddard and looking at the picture on a larger screen. “What kind of exotic birds could possibly live in this remarkable desert environment?” thought I, taking picture after picture of a bird I couldn’t make out through the camera lens. Turns out, it’s a house finch (Haemorhous mexicanus) which is common all over the country so it’s not nearly as exciting as I first thought. However, I’ve gone some days without seeing any birds at all and those days aren’t any fun so I’ve learned to appreciate all the birds I see, no matter how common they are.This photo was not taken on the Toadstools Trail, but I wanted to include it in this posting about Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. It shows a spectacular bluff above a former townsite called Paria, which was a Mormon settlement from 1870 to 1929. The town was abandoned because it kept getting inundated by floodwaters. It must have been a tremendously hard way of life, separated from other communities by dozens of miles, but at least the view was pretty good.
About 190 million years ago, much of the present-day southwestern United States was covered in an immense field of sand dunes – one of the largest that has ever existed on the planet. Many of the dunes happened to carry iron pigment, which turned red when it was oxidized by the sun.
Over the course of millions of years, and with the help of chemical compounds like calcium carbonate and iron oxide, the dunes were slowly cemented into a rock called Aztec sandstone.
These sandstone formations are the primary feature of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, located only about 15 miles west of the casinos, hotels, nightclubs and other delightful debauchery of Las Vegas, Nevada. The area includes nearly 200,000 acres (about 300 square miles) of the Mohave Desert, and it’s visited by 3 million people each year – a little less than what Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming receives.
It’s an impressive number of visitors, to be sure. I think, however, that most of Red Rock Canyon’s visitors are from the Las Vegas area. Its canyons and sandstone cliffs make it remarkably unlike most of the rest of the flat desert surrounding the city, and it’s extremely popular with hikers, cyclists, and rock climbers. Consider that Las Vegas’s Harry Reid International Airport (until 2021 McCarran International Airport) saw almost 58 million passengers arrive and depart in 2023, and it’s easy to see that most of those people aren’t coming to The Entertainment Capital of the World to entertain themselves by visiting a national conservation area.
Being avid hikers with interests in geology and biology, Nancy and I (and Gunther) went to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area in early December 2023. We were happy to be joined by a Canadian couple we met at the campground in Las Vegas at which we were staying; it turns out that Canadians enjoy hiking as well. They also joined us for a visit to the Hoover Dam, a hike in Lake Mead National Recreation Area, and a hike in Valley of Fire State Park north of Las Vegas (not all on the same day).
A one-way scenic drive, a loop 13 miles in length, at Red Rock Canyon provides many pullouts and parking lots with access to hiking trailheads (beginning a total of 22 trails ranging in length from under one mile to more than 10 miles), overlooks, and other points of interest.
It’s easy to see how Red Rock Canyon got its name. The sand originally forming the dunes contained an abundance of minerals, one of which was iron that was oxidized by the elements over millions of years. The area began its federal protection in 1967, when the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) designated 10,000 acres as the Red Rock Recreation Lands. Further legislation over the years and significant additions of acreage eventually led to the National Conservation Area designation in 1990.I was struck by the clear delineation of colors in the rock. These two different colors of rock are both types of sandstone, but water moving through the sand at the bottom millions of years ago took away the red minerals and left behind calcium carbonate. The sand later developed, over even more millions of years, into sandstone.Erosional forces like water and wind result in some really cool-looking rock formations. Note, also, that the light-colored and red layers of rocks are the reverse of the photo above (and I didn’t post it upside-down).These huge sandstone blocks are not naturally formed: they’re remnants of one of the earliest industries in the Las Vegas area. The Excelsior Stone Quarry began operations in 1905, extracting blocks of sandstone for use as building materials. The blocks, some weighing up to 10 tons, were pulled with a 17-ton steam-traction engine to the just-built railroad in Las Vegas and loaded onto railroad cars bound for Los Angeles and San Francisco, where they served as decorative building material. While the sandstone was judged to be of exceptionally fine quality, quarries closer to California’s coastal cities were later developed and the Excelsior Stone Quarry and other operations in the area shut down for good in 1912. The plant growing in front of the large block is a species of yerba santa, which is Spanish for “sacred herb.” The name comes from the plant’s medicinal properties to treat respiratory and digestive ailments – even today, yerba santa extracts can be found in western U.S. herbal medicine stores.Part of the day included a hike on the Calico Tanks Trail. The long views and beautiful multicolored rock formations along the trail reminded Nancy and me of several places in Colorado, including Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs and the Red Rocks Amphitheater near Morrison. Two hikers can be seen in the lower-left corner of this image. The BLM has classified the Calico Tanks Trail as “moderate”; I’d say, based on the elevation gain and necessity to scramble up and over rocks, it’s on the far end of “moderate.” It was a beautiful hike, though.These curves in the sandstone were created while the materials were still in the form of loose sand. Wind blowing across the dunes created these lifted layers before the grains of sand were cemented into the sandstone of today.This specimen of Spanish dagger (Yucca schidigera, also known as Mohave yucca) reminded us that we were in the desert. It, like many plants found in the Mohave and other deserts, looks pretty savage.Speaking of savage, Gunther takes a break on the Calico Tanks Trail to enjoy the scenery. He got along really well with the Canadians; he gets along really well with pretty much everyone, no matter their country of origin.This is the feature for which Calico Tanks Trail gets its name: a seasonal pond, or tank, created by water seeping or flowing into a depression in the sandstone (there was a much smaller water feature earlier in the trail, thus the plurality of the trail’s name). The Spanish word for this formation is “tinaja,” which means “clay pot.” The sun on this early December day was pretty low in the sky, making for some considerable shadows from the rock formations. Those of you who have been to Las Vegas will probably think this tank is the third-largest standing body of water in the area after Lake Mead and the fountains in front of the Bellagio resort on the Las Vegas Strip; I would not disagree with that assessment. Formations like this make possible a huge diversity of plant and animal life that otherwise couldn’t survive in the desert.If you squint, the hotels and casinos of Las Vegas can just barely be made out near the horizon in this image, taken at the end of the Calico Tanks Trail. This vantage point took some rock scrambling to get to; along with my phone, with which I took this and most of the rest of the photos in this posting, I was also carrying my digital camera with a large and heavy zoom lens in case we saw any wildlife. A fellow hiker noticed the camera and said I was brave for bringing it along; I corrected him and said I was dumb.So that I didn’t bring my heavy camera lens on the Calico Tanks Trail for naught, here’s a picture of a rock climber I took with it. Rock climbing is a pastime in which I have absolutely no interest in participating.Yeah, this looks like just heaps of fun. The BLM’s website states that rock climbing at the national conservation area is among the best in the world. Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is one of more than 850 areas managed by the BLM’s National Landscape Conservation System, which totals 27 million acres of areas designated as National Conservation Areas, National Monuments, Wilderness Areas, Wilderness Study Areas, Wild and Scenic Rivers, and National Historic and Scenic Trails.Longtime readers of this blog know that I won’t pass up an opportunity to post an image of lichen. I have no idea what species this is, but I think the shade of green is best described as “obscene.” Together with wind and moisture, plants and lichens do their part to erode the rocks into all kinds of fantastic formations.This is a view from High Point Overlook (elev. 4,771 feet) looking east toward the city of Las Vegas, which is 15 miles on the other side of the rock formation. High Point Overlook is just a little shy of the midway point of Red Rock Canyon’s scenic drive. The vegetation in the foreground gives an idea of what the flat parts of the area are like; it appears kind of sparse, but it’s much more heavily vegetated than other areas we’ve seen around Las Vegas. There are about 600 species of plants found in the conservation area, a number boosted considerably by the presence of year-round water: the sandstone allows water to percolate, creating springs, pools of standing water like the Calico Tanks, and even small creeks and waterfalls .This is Turtlehead Peak (elev. 6.323 feet), also photographed from High Point Overlook. There’s a trail to the top, but it’s 5 miles round-trip with a 2,000-foot elevation gain, and Gunther didn’t want to try it so we didn’t. That’s a heavily laden Utah juniper (Juniperus osteosperma) on the left, with Mormon tea (Ephedra nevadensis) growing at its base.I wasn’t planning to see any natural bodies of water in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, let alone one that was flowing. This is Lost Creek, along which we saw a huge diversity of plant life flourishing in early December. I will remember this very short hike off the scenic loop for a couple of reasons: this stream, and the fact that Nancy bonked her head on a low-hanging ponderosa pine branch that was overhanging the trail; she didn’t see it because of her hat brim. If she hadn’t been in the lead of our hiking party, any of the other three of us would probably have bonked our heads (even though he was ahead of Nancy, Gunther didn’t bonk his head because he’s an expert hiker. And he was able to just walk under the branch, without making note of the obstruction to Nancy.) We’ve discovered that the maintenance of trails in the federal system can vary greatly; BLM trails are perhaps the most … rustic. It’s really not a problem, and I’m certainly not complaining. It’s just interesting to see.Here’s an example of the diversity of plant life in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area: a specimen of ashy silktassel (Garrya flavescens), growing along Lost Creek. I’ve never knowingly seen it before. It can grow up to about 10 feet high. Another short trail from the scenic loop leads to a grouping of petroglyphs and pictographs, created by native Americans thousands of years ago. The minerals in rock exposed to the intense desert sun over the millennia develop a dark patina called desert varnish. The native Americans removed the patina with stone tools to expose the lighter colors of the original rock beneath, creating designs known as petroglyphs. Pictographs, in contrast, are designs created with paints made with clays, charcoal, and other minerals, and then applied to the rocks.Here’s a closer view of the petroglyphs in the photo above this one. The meanings or significance of these designs have been lost to time; the only communicative records of the people who created these designs that still exist are the petroglyphs themselves. Nancy and I have seen quite a few petroglyphs in New Mexico and Arizona, but it was a bit surreal to see these ancient designs just 15 miles from the (barely) controlled 24-hour party of the Las Vegas Strip.Here’s an example of a pictograph, or an image painted on the rock, located just a few yards away from the petroglyphs. It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but petroglyphs and pictographs are themselves sometimes hard to see in the wild. There’s a closer view of the pictograph below.The pictograph looks like a figure 8 with a vertical line inscribed through it (it’s just to the right of dead center in the photograph above). Again, we have no idea what its significance is, but it must have been important to someone a very long time ago. The BLM and other federal agencies take great care to protect these cultural artifacts; like in other areas around the country, the precise locations of many of the pictographs and petroglyphs in Red Rock Canyon are not made available to the public. Six major groups of native Americans have lived in what is now Red Rock Canyon, beginning with the Tule Springs Paleo-Indian culture 11,000 to 8,000 years ago.
A visit to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area had been highly recommended by one of our Lyft drivers who happened to be a native of Las Vegas, and she was right to do so. I mean, we would have gone regardless, but our visit definitely blew past what I thought it would be like. I sure wasn’t expecting to see those incredible views, enjoy fascinatingly colorful rock formations, and go on a hike next to a running stream, let alone appreciate imagery left by native Americans thousands upon thousands of years ago, but Red Rock Canyon had all of that and more. If you do find yourself in the Entertainment Capital of the World and want to experience something completely unlike what Las Vegas is known for, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is a wonderful place to spend a day.
Tales of The Goddard 