“The Anasazi really survived here, on the edge of nowhere,” said park director Jamie Skidmore, who now devotes her time to giving voice to the ghosts of the past. “It has always been difficult to survive due to lack of water and food. It is not surprising that this ancient community eventually fled due to hardship and drought.”
Today, tourism is helping to change perspectives and the landscape is gradually opening up. Much of the monument remains inaccessible except on foot, and a handful of trails can be found via an interactive map maintained by the Bureau of Land Management’s partner organization, Grand Canyon Trust. Slot canyons like Peek-a-boo and Spooky and trails to places like Lower Calf Creek Falls and Willis Creek Narrows are where heartbeats fill heads and jaws hit the ground.
“These lands are a source of inspiration and learning for some and a source of peace, resilience and unity for others,” said Harry Barber, director of the Paria River District, an office of the Bureau of Management land in southern Utah. “Every morning I can be found somewhere on the monument, usually running or cycling. I go there to sharpen my mental saw for the day ahead. While I’m on the trail, I I often see others, who I can only suspect. are there for the same reasons.”
The earth remains a teacher, that’s obvious. And yet, it can also teach unfortunate lessons to unprepared travelers. Telephone coverage across the monument is rare, if not non-existent. Junipers and pines cut their own branches to survive extreme heat. Deaths from flash flooding in slot canyons are not uncommon.
It reminds us that adventure – elemental, endless, unpredictable – is never far away in America’s wildest national monument.
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