The Taste of Freedom and Smell of Danger in the San Rafael Swell

My headache began to sink in as we started to hike. We knew it would be a few hours before we would reach the “reliable” springs that the guide book talked about. We had three liters of water for two dogs and three people. The sun was quickly warming up the scene. We picked our way through large swatches of cryptobiotic soil crust, staying on old stream paths and slick rock. We could feel the edge of the mesa just beyond the junipers and sage. We approached a formation of rocks. Imperfect circles within circles were carved into the sides of a slab of rock. Smaller rocks were placed on top of another at the base. An ancient step stool to better reach the medium, Steven hypothesized. Realizing this formation would be a great vantage point to see our path, we followed Sandy’s lead and clambered on top of the formation.

The layers of the landscape revealed themselves from the view point. Mountains in the distance out behind Orangeville contrasted the canyons that littered their way to where we were. We located some animal trails and stream paths to travel on. We pulled out the map to decide where we would try to drop down from the mesa. A 600 ft class three scramble was in the cards according to the guide book. Apparently, a cairn would mark the spot that allowed for a safe travel down the rockfall. A search for the cairn along the edge ensued. The mesa narrowed to the region only about 20 ft across. The sun beamed down as we searched the edge with nothing to be found. Earlier signs in the trip of knocked down cairns lead us to believe we had some trail smashers come through these parts.

Cairns, are a stack of rocks that can mark a trail or path in areas lesser traveled or where route finding is needed. The stacks made by adventurers, park service, and BLM folk to help see a path, are acceptable forms of communication in the wilderness. These cairns are typically rather low to the ground, made up of only a few sturdy rocks. Sometimes tourists and children enjoy making different kinds of cairns as a form of art, or to entertain themselves. They can be found in mass collections near a place that is easy to walk to within an hour from the car. They tend to be more balanced, and tall. Something that would not hold up in a windstorm, something picturesque. There is a big difference between them. It is beneficial to other wilderness travelers to discern the two. Do not knock down a single, rather short and sturdy cairn placed along the barely visible trail in the middle of the desert. Do knock down swaths of taller, perfectly balanced cairns that seem like they would make for a great picture.

Once we deliberated that we would not find the cairn we were looking for, we decided that we were in the right place to head down the scree. I was reluctant and voiced my concerns of danger. We referred to the map and topography once more. We were in the right spot, I couldn’t deny it. So we began. I was nervous, my brow furrowed. I felt fear in my gut, that also tasted a bit like excitement. I brought up the rear of the group. We took turns going through the loose rock, working hard not to dislodge any to send tumbling out to hit one another or the dogs. The thought of rattlesnakes, which I had not yet seen in the wild, came blaring into my mind, but we didn’t see a single one. The image of getting cliffed out also replayed itself many times over, but it did not happen. I stayed quiet and picked my path behind the others, reminding myself of an Edward Abbey quote that we read before embarking on the trip the afternoon prior.

“Why this cult of wilderness?... because we like the taste of freedom; because we like the smell of danger.”

After some time, that was probably not very long, but felt as such, the pile of rubble started to become less steep, and took on a deep shade of maroon. This meant that we were close to the point we picked out from on top of the mesa. The slanted rock down by the maroon wash was our destination. As we drew nearer, we sang out in joy and pride! The physical crux of our journey was over. A few large junipers called us over to drink and snack before heading back out into the sun-exposed path to water. The concerned expression on my face had finally gone, and a smile appeared as we gazed up at the path we took. It wasn’t so bad after all.

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Written by Kalie Lovell