Mill Creek, Moab, Utah
How Old is Ancient?
While in Moab, Utah
during April 2009, I had the pleasure of
hiking with my friends,
Tiger, Terry and Leo. After taking
an unmarked turnoff from the paved road,
we proceeded uphill for another half
mile. Later, when
AAA came to retrieve our keys, which
we had locked in our truck, Tiger
described the turnoff to our locksmith
as follows: “You know, up on the north
side, where the Hanson boys used to
live. Look for six poplar trees and
then turn between the two houses. You
will see us at the top”.
Tiger Keogh is a native
of Moab. In her youth, she and her
friends ran free in this area. Each
summer, she and her friends scaled the
same ridge on which we stood, then
camped out for a week along
Mill Creek, in the canyon below. It
was camping at its finest. If they
wanted something, like blueberries for
their pancakes, Tiger could run the two
miles home, get what was needed and be
back at camp before her girlfriends
began cooking without her. Only locals
and a few Moab aficionados know the area
where we planned to hike. Until this
late-afternoon hike, we knew Mill Creek
only by the
Mill Creek Parkway, which passes
under Main Street within a concrete
culvert.
After consulting our
topographical maps, we discovered that
Mill Creek has its origins deep in the
La Sal Mountains, to the east of
Moab. The stream originates high on the
western col of
Manns Peak, near
Mt. Mellenthin and
Mt. Tukuhnikivatz. Chilled by
snow-melt at that time of year, the
creek water ran cold through our canyon,
half way to its confluence with the
Colorado River.
At our location, behind
the slickrock ridges, we found a
peaceful canyon containing the best of
what Moab has to offer in hiking
trails. After a short, steep climb down
to Mill Creek, we set off downstream to
locate some of Tiger’s favorite Indian
rock art sites, waterfalls and swimming
holes.
Late afternoon is always
a good time for a hike in
Canyonlands. With its unique energy
and light, the afternoon sun enhances
any Moab hiking experience. As the
Sun’s rays glance in from a lower angle,
spirits unseen at noon, show themselves
as light and shadow.
In quick succession,
Tiger located several previously
undocumented rock art panels. Our
first stop featured several individual
images of what we might call “little
people”. Were these images of
children, with cute, pudgy bodies or did
they represent how the Ancients viewed
themselves in the reflected light of
Mill Creek?
Next, Tiger pointed out a
lone character that we call “Starman”,
for each of his appendages ends in a
star burst shape. Did his maker etch a
man in stone or did the artist wish to
document the image of a constellation,
visible in the night sky? We assume
that star-hands and star-feet do not
indicate that the Ancients had webbed
feet. But then again, one man's lizard
is another man's extraterrestrial.
Next, we came to a
prominent image, set close to the
trail. It was of a man and two dogs,
out for a hike in Mill Creek Canyon. A
lone Ancient relieves himself from the
canyon rim. His depicted stream of
urine arcs gracefully toward the bottom
of the canyon. The dogs appear to
frolic nearby. Apparently, the Ancients
had a whimsical side, presaging comic
book art and humor by thousands of
years.
Next, we encountered
images so ancient and unusual that we
could not determine if they were
humanmade or of natural origin.
Petroglyphs or not,
desert varnish had re-glazed them
since the time of their inception. As
with so many images that we come across
in the area, it is often difficult to
determine the age or origin of what we
see incised in stone. As with beauty,
this art was is in the eye of the
beholder.
Our next rock art visitor
was a
snake, showing himself on a sunny
wall. He appeared to be watching over
his own little Garden of Eden. His
maker designed his ziggurat shape to
stand out along the trail. Was this an
early signpost that warned of
rattlesnakes, or was it a celebration of
nature, right down to the serpent’s
tongue, still wagging after all these
years?
Our final rock art
visitors on our downstream leg were
striking and unique. Like a child’s
daisy chain of cutout paper dolls, this
group of Ancient friends posed, hand in
hand. As striking as their ageless
gesture of friendship was to us, their
setting was even more awe-inspiring.
Above their heads was a perfect image of
the La Sal Mountains, from which this
stream arises. With its sun rays
showering down above our rock art
friends, we asked ourselves again, did
humans create this part of the tableau,
or did Mother Nature add the mountains
and sun rays in the intervening years?
Either way, it is a shrine to both
nature and friendship.
After only a decade or
two of cattle grazing, many stream beds
in the West have gone from pastoral to
arroyo, meaning "dry canyon".
Kanab Arroyo, near Kanab, Utah is a
perfect example. After only a few years
grazing and wood gathering along Kanab
Creek, an
1885 flash-flood created stream terraces
along the formerly flat canyon bottom.
Once a stream becomes a gully, it cannot
repair itself.
Along our hiking path,
Mill Creek has a slickrock underpinning
of hard
Kayenta Sandstone. That solid
foundation makes it less likely that the
inevitable flash-floods will dig any
deeper into the canyon floor. Thus,
Mill Creek retains a timeless and
idyllic look, despite many years of
cattle grazing in the area.
In terms of geologic
time, the overlaying g
Navajo Sandstone that forms the
canyon walls in this area may erode
quickly, but during the lifetime of the
average human, little changes along the
middle stretch of Mill Creek. Unlike
Kanab Creek, which once had rich
deposits of alluvial soil, the stone
floor of Mill Creek Canyon is too tough
to rip up and wash away.
Especially during each
year's monsoon, flash-floods do visit
Mill Creek. The larger floods can wash
away soil and plants, but in this a
desert watershed, mature plant
communities coexist in deep pockets of
soil that often overhang the streambed,
itself. In March or April, snow-melt in
the upper reaches of Mill Creek adds to
the lighter winter flow, yet our group
easily forded the stream at several
points along the trail.
For us, this visit
included views of cottonwood trees
leafing-out and wildflowers growing in
sunny spots along the trail. In the
summer, Tiger told us, the snow melt
increases and creates natural
water-slides, some of which become many
yards long. One natural water-slide
ends near a swimming hole that would
soon be five feet deep. The warmer
temperature of both the air and the
water during the summer, made this the
natural place for Moab kids to play and
swim..
The energy exuding from
Mill Creek Canyon is of tranquility and
peace. It is a place to nurture the
spirit and the soul. If one stops there
for a moment in the afternoon sun, new
energy coalesces. Sunlight refracts in
the lens of our camera and through the
lenses of our eyes. Perhaps because of
the glare, these energies are difficult
to see in nature, but easy to see in a
photographic image.
Having previously
experienced such anomalies near Moab, we
were not surprised to see Tiger, Terry
and Leo each bathed in new energy at
Mill Creek Canyon. Intuition tells us
that running water facilitates the
rejuvenation of many life forms,
including humans. Whether it is the
crashing of the surf in Kaua’i, Hawaii
or the burbling stream that we call Mill
Creek, the sound of running water is
primal to us all. If we allow the sun,
wind, water and spirit to travel with
us, they will guide us on our path, as
they did on that late spring day..
After scaling a talus
slope within the canyon, we stood at
least fifty feet
above
the streambed. Looking down, we saw
only Leo. Tiger and Terry had
disappeared. Smiling, Leo looked back
up at us. With his vast experience in
life, Leo’s look combined curiosity,
concern and awareness of his
environment. Without words, he seemed
to say, “How are you doing up there?
Could you take a picture so that we can
remember our presence here?” Since Leo
asked so much with just a look, here in
words and pictures, I gladly document
our visit to Mill Creek Canyon.
above
the streambed. Looking down, we saw
only Leo. Tiger and Terry had
disappeared. Smiling, Leo looked back
up at us. With his vast experience in
life, Leo’s look combined curiosity,
concern and awareness of his
environment. Without words, he seemed
to say, “How are you doing up there?
Could you take a picture so that we can
remember our presence here?” Since Leo
asked so much with just a look, here in
words and pictures, I gladly document
our visit to Mill Creek Canyon.