No More Wilderness
Editor's Note: This latest dispatch was sent by letter from the trail...
Hey Mountainzoners!
Back on the trail! And I am not alone for this section – my dog, Aldo, is along for some mountain climbing.
Yesterday we picked up the cache I stashed less than a month ago, all was intact. First one, hope that’s the way they all are! A long time ski buddy, Turnin’ Pete, joined us for the hike to Butler Wash – about mile five for the section. Along with his mountain bike (the Hayduke Trail follows roads to that point), Turnin’ Pete brought some steaks, hot dogs, and beer – I wasn’t the only one with a load. He rode out under a clear sky with a nearly full moon to light the way, leaving the dog and I to go on.
Hiking into the Henry Mountains is a walk through many geologic and vegetative layers. Where we’re resting now we’ve just hit the aspens and the snow-line. An intensely colored sunrise over a massive landscape – from the San Rafael swell to the La Sol Mountains to Sunset Pass and Elk Ridge – has given way to views limited by trees and a solid grey sky.
I’ve just found myself watching a “show” I’ve never seen before. The dog is napping while I’m sitting against my pack writing, listening to the sound of Crescent Creek bringing down the melting snow. A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention: out walks a big, wild male turkey. I sat still, he kept doing whatever he was planning, lies down about 15 feet away, and just chills. Even when I moved to get my camera, it only grew alarmed when I walked right up to it to take a portrait.
I decided not to be a wimp and moved camp three and a half more miles, to about 9,400ft, almost 4,000ft higher than my previous camp. Finally, a reason for the snowshoes: shady and north aspens are still buried under several feet of snow. By the time I got to the new camp, I was soaking wet from the knees down – which is cold at that altitude.
I built a fire to dry my shoes, socks, and pants, and to melt some snow for water. Needless to say, no one else was up there, and I don’t expect to see anyone until I’m down lower towards Capital Reef National Park. The sunset brought the reward with the sun poking below the cloud layer, casting a shadow of the mountains on the red rock desert below. It was worth standing out in the icy wind for, too bad I still couldn’t make out the moon, which was full tonight.
I took off at sun-up this morning, hoping to take advantage of the frozen snowpack. Seems like crampons and an ice-ax would have been more helpful, at least until the sun softened the snow. And there was plenty enough snow for skiing. There must have been some remarkable corn conditions today.
The view from the Henry Mountains is nothing short of surreal – snow-covered, high alpine, yet canyons, plateaus and ridges are evident everywhere. It had me thinking about a comment left on a trail register I saw in Beef Basin on section three. It said, “No more wilderness.” I found this bizarre, as no matter where you look from the top, there is no wilderness. None. Over by the La Sal Mountains? Nope. Over by Elk Ridge and the Abajos? Nope. Lake Powell? Yeah right, the biggest piece of desert destruction imaginable. Capital Reef? No. Escalante Canyons? No! Fish Lake or Boulder Mountains? None there either. San Rafael Swell or the incomparable Dirty Devil River Corrider? No. All this land is still getting trampled and degraded by irresponsible and selfish people, cows, industries, and politicians. An Australian fellow I met last week put it best – “It’s the most beautiful area on earth.” Why can’t more people accept that and do their part to see it remains a planetary highlight? (If folks want to learn how to help, contact the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance in Salt Lake City at www.suwa.org).
I’m packaging this letter up to hand to whomever will mail it. The next post could be a while, as I am going deep into the Escalante River, which just killed two canyoneers last week. I’ll be careful.
Keep it wild,
Mike Coronella
Hey Mountainzoners!
Back on the trail! And I am not alone for this section – my dog, Aldo, is along for some mountain climbing.
Yesterday we picked up the cache I stashed less than a month ago, all was intact. First one, hope that’s the way they all are! A long time ski buddy, Turnin’ Pete, joined us for the hike to Butler Wash – about mile five for the section. Along with his mountain bike (the Hayduke Trail follows roads to that point), Turnin’ Pete brought some steaks, hot dogs, and beer – I wasn’t the only one with a load. He rode out under a clear sky with a nearly full moon to light the way, leaving the dog and I to go on.
Hiking into the Henry Mountains is a walk through many geologic and vegetative layers. Where we’re resting now we’ve just hit the aspens and the snow-line. An intensely colored sunrise over a massive landscape – from the San Rafael swell to the La Sol Mountains to Sunset Pass and Elk Ridge – has given way to views limited by trees and a solid grey sky.
I’ve just found myself watching a “show” I’ve never seen before. The dog is napping while I’m sitting against my pack writing, listening to the sound of Crescent Creek bringing down the melting snow. A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention: out walks a big, wild male turkey. I sat still, he kept doing whatever he was planning, lies down about 15 feet away, and just chills. Even when I moved to get my camera, it only grew alarmed when I walked right up to it to take a portrait.
I decided not to be a wimp and moved camp three and a half more miles, to about 9,400ft, almost 4,000ft higher than my previous camp. Finally, a reason for the snowshoes: shady and north aspens are still buried under several feet of snow. By the time I got to the new camp, I was soaking wet from the knees down – which is cold at that altitude.
I built a fire to dry my shoes, socks, and pants, and to melt some snow for water. Needless to say, no one else was up there, and I don’t expect to see anyone until I’m down lower towards Capital Reef National Park. The sunset brought the reward with the sun poking below the cloud layer, casting a shadow of the mountains on the red rock desert below. It was worth standing out in the icy wind for, too bad I still couldn’t make out the moon, which was full tonight.
I took off at sun-up this morning, hoping to take advantage of the frozen snowpack. Seems like crampons and an ice-ax would have been more helpful, at least until the sun softened the snow. And there was plenty enough snow for skiing. There must have been some remarkable corn conditions today.
The view from the Henry Mountains is nothing short of surreal – snow-covered, high alpine, yet canyons, plateaus and ridges are evident everywhere. It had me thinking about a comment left on a trail register I saw in Beef Basin on section three. It said, “No more wilderness.” I found this bizarre, as no matter where you look from the top, there is no wilderness. None. Over by the La Sal Mountains? Nope. Over by Elk Ridge and the Abajos? Nope. Lake Powell? Yeah right, the biggest piece of desert destruction imaginable. Capital Reef? No. Escalante Canyons? No! Fish Lake or Boulder Mountains? None there either. San Rafael Swell or the incomparable Dirty Devil River Corrider? No. All this land is still getting trampled and degraded by irresponsible and selfish people, cows, industries, and politicians. An Australian fellow I met last week put it best – “It’s the most beautiful area on earth.” Why can’t more people accept that and do their part to see it remains a planetary highlight? (If folks want to learn how to help, contact the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance in Salt Lake City at www.suwa.org).
I’m packaging this letter up to hand to whomever will mail it. The next post could be a while, as I am going deep into the Escalante River, which just killed two canyoneers last week. I’ll be careful.
Keep it wild,
Mike Coronella
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