Mountain Sheep Wash

The sun had yet to creep over the cliffs on this brisk morning a few days from winter solstice. We removed our shoes and were now wading across the Virgin River, the ice-cold water reaching my knees. Not long after reaching the other side a great blue heron leaped from his hiding spot and with wide gray wings flew to another secluded location downriver.

It felt exhilarating to be outside.

Crossing the Virgin River.

Today I traveled with Jenna. She just returned from living in Chicago and this would be her first true hike in a year and a half. We set out to explore a little-traversed arm of the Virgin River Gorge in Arizona.

The first mile of the hike followed the river around a large bend. The trail became hard to follow and in some places completely disappeared, I'm sure due to it being wiped out during spring floods. I kept an eye out for the heron, but didn't see it again.

Virgin River. 

Enjoying the river. 

At last we came to Mountain Sheep Wash, the dry tributary I intended to survey. Here there would be no trail. We ventured into the wash which veered in a southerly direction.

I will admit that I didn't have high expectations. Everything in the gorge appears very similar. There's wide California barrel cactus, cholla cactus, the occasional Joshua Tree, perhaps a quail or two and plenty of rugged and dry cliffs.

In years past the gorge has been prime habitat for desert bighorn sheep. But I hadn't seen one here in a couple decades. I think they were removed to protect cars on the freeway. But that didn't stop us from looking as it was truly prime habitat for them.

Mountain Sheep Wash.

Lots of unexplored country on the side hills. 

Cholla cactus. 

The wash itself was filled with rocks of many kinds, most of them white and smooth. It boggled my mind to wonder how so many rocks of different varieties ended up in one place. In some places are the sheer walls of a former dirt embankment with thousands of rocks embedded in the walls. As these walls continued to slough and drop these rocks, the occasional flash flood carried them to other locations downstream. As this process has continued for millions of years, I'm sure this would account for some of the variety. I even found a fossil of a shell embedded in one of the rocks.

As I gazed up and the rugged hillside I imagined that much of that space had never been trod by human foot. Of the few people like ourselves who were adventurous enough to hike the wash, I'll bet that nearly no one makes the additional effort to climb the hills and explore near the cliffs.

Interesting little cave we found along the way.

We continued in this wash for several miles. Occasionally there would be a fork, but we stayed in the main canyon. For most of it I saw no signs of human habitation or involvement.

At the 5.2 mile mark we came to a barbed wire fence that spanned the width of what was at that point a narrow canyon. After crossing we found that a black tubing, roughly one inch in diameter, stretched across the fence, coming from a location up-canyon. There was no running water in the tubing and it appeared it hadn't been used in a while.

We followed the tubing up the canyon and found that it led to troughs, some made of metal and one of plastic. They too were devoid of water. A rough dirt road led up a hill and additional tubing followed the road. My guess was that it led to Mountain Sheep Springs, which was further than we had time to travel. Obviously this was a spot where ranchers could water their cattle. Access to the dirt road would have to come from the south side, which would entail a long drive through the Arizona Strip.

Watering troughs. 

We chose to continue up the wash, and not to follow the road.

We didn't have too much further to go. On Google Maps I had spotted a location that appeared as if it had a cave. The colors of the rock changed to ocher and I hoped that perhaps we might find some old cowboy inscriptions or petroglyphs.

Twenty minutes later we departed the wash and walked uphill toward the formation I had found on Google Maps. We finally sat down and removed our packs, designating this as our official turnaround spot. Jenna took time to eat a sandwich while I explored the surroundings.

It turns out that my cave was no more than a rounded niche in the rock. But it was a pretty little niche with yucca plants growing within it. I walked around the entire periphery of the cliff face and found no writings. This didn't surprise me, but I was a little disappointed. Our total mileage to this location was 5.9 miles. Surprisingly, we gained 1,854 feet in elevation and were now at 4,035 feet.

This was my so-called cave that ended up being a niche in the rocks.

Interesting color on the rocks. 

Taking a lunch break before we turn back.

In spite of the disappointment, I took in the moment. We were without a doubt a long ways from anyone else. Other than the occasional cattle rancher, I'll bet almost no one comes this way. There was a satisfaction with setting foot in such a remote location.

The way back felt much shorter. We enjoyed conversation and not having the sun in our eyes. When we arrived at the river we found the great blue heron in his usual spot, perched atop a rock in the midst of the flow. Surprisingly, he allowed me to sneak up on him until I was a mere 100 feet away. Then he spread his wings and flew just a few feet away behind some growth. I was content and let him be. ♠

Great blue heron on the river. 

Great blue heron in flight.

Hiking the Entire Length of the Virgin River Gorge: Part 2

12 December 2023—Virgin River Gorge: Cedar Pockets to Littlefield, Arizona

We finally found a day that we all had free, and with no storm. After meeting at Hank's house we drove to McDonald's and ate breakfast, then into the gorge to Cedar Pockets. We parked at the trailhead and waited for the sun to rise.

A month had passed since we hiked the first half and temperatures had dropped since then⸺not considerably, but enough to be noticeable. We waited in the warm truck until we saw the first ray of light on the clifftop.

We weren't sure what to expect during this second half. Although it would be shorter mileage, we were told by someone that it was more difficult because the gorge in this section was narrower, thus creating deeper water.

Our first river-crossing came five minutes into the hike. It was a wide crossing, and as we stepped into the current the shock of ice-cold water jolted through our bodies. The water came to my knees. By the time I crossed my feet were numb. The silver-lining was that we didn't have to cross the river for another two miles.

First crossing of the river. Very frigid!

A look back at I-15, which we would parallel most of the way.

From this point we stayed on the Sullivan Canyon Trail, the only path of its sort we would see in the gorge. It took us along a horseshoe bend of the Virgin River and then up and over a hill where we had a good view of the freeway. After dropping into Sullivan Canyon it was just a 5-minute walk until we reunited with the river.

We were able to walk along the left bank for a while, but inevitably it was back into the water. It was just as frigid as the first time, only now it soaked up to my thighs. We still hadn't felt the sun and temperatures were only slightly above freezing.

Looking down-river from the mouth of Sullivan Canyon.

Second crossing of the day. (still cold)

This first section of the hike was miserable. We were in and out of the river several times and although everything from my thighs down were cold, it was my feet that were turning numb.There was little enjoyment of the scenery. I was in more of a survival mode, putting one foot in front of the other.

At least we weren't fighting tamarisk and willows like we had during the first half of the hike. There were exceptions, but for the most part thick vegetation was a thing of the past. Our challenge now was to find crossings where rapids were minimal and water wasn't too deep.

 

South side of bridge #1.

Taking a break on north side of bridge #1.  Finally in the sun!

Beneath this bridge we passed from the south side of the freeway to the north; although our foray to the north side would be short-lived because after a small horseshoe bend, it would return to the south side.—But while on the north side we took our first real break. We enjoyed our first touch of sunlight. I took some ibuprofen, which seemed to help with the pain.

This small break was a turning point for me. It now felt as if the misery had melted away and I was able to enjoy the beauty of the gorge. It even felt as if the temperature of the river went up a few degrees. The touch of the water no longer stung like it once did.

Looking back at bridge #1, from north side.

As an aside, I should interject some words on the majesty of I-15 through the Virgin River Gorge.

Until the project was completed in1973, there was absolutely no motorized traffic through the gorge. Instead, vehicles traveling between Las Vegas and Salt Lake would have to circumvent the rugged chasm by traveling on Highway 91 and over Utah Hill.

Construction of the project began in the early 1960's and lasted nine years. They say it was the most expensive rural freeway project to date. The undertaking included seven bridges and diverted the river twelve times.

A story is told about a 50-foot pile that workers thought they had planted into bedrock, only to have it sink into the ground, leaving no trace the next morning! In some places workers had to rappel 400 feet down a sheer ledge to plant charges of dynamite. One worker, Jimmie Hughes, died while on the project.

Nowadays thousands of drivers cruise at seventy miles an hour without a thought of what it took to build this road. There are two lanes of traffic in each direction. Even with that in mind, it is still a white-knuckle experience to venture through here. Walls are sheer on both sides and the route is anything but straight. Oftentimes when I drive through there will be a concrete guardrail with no shoulder on one side and a semi-truck with eighteen wheels barreling on the other!

Bridge #2, looking from south side.

Straight section with freeway just above us.

We continued around the bend and under the second bridge to the south side. For some distance the river ran relatively straight with the freeway only a stone's throw away on the right. (This is the only hike I've ever done where I could hear traffic the entire time!) The river bank consisted of a concrete / road base / hard sludge that ran from the freeway above to the river below. I don't know exactly what it was, but it created some tricky diagonal walking and it was sharp on the hands.

It was along this stretch that we passed by another gauging station. Like the gauging station we saw on the first half, this was a concrete weir that stretched from one side of the river to the other, creating a small dam behind it. Water spilled over the weir. On that day the river measured 17.11 feet deep and flowed at 158 cubit feet per second.

Gauging station, just a stones throw from the freeway.

Scarring on rock wall where dynamite was used to blast rock.

At mile five the river passed beneath the freeway, again to the north side. Along this stretch was the first section where cars on the freeway could actually see us. The banks of the river were wider now, and sandy. Fewer strands of willow and tamarisk grew, making the walk much easier.

It was in this section where we first noticed the warm springs. I dipped my hand into a rivulet of water that issued from the cliff. It was not hot, but luke-warm. There was a distinct scent of sulfur. As we walked we found other springs.

South side of bridge #3.

Grafitti on pier below bridge #3.

First warm spring.

The further into the gorge we got, the narrower it became. The walls moved in so close that it became necessary to build the freeway on top of the river. As we hiked this section there were giant piers that came down into the river and we could hear the rumbling of the traffic directly overhead. Near this point we found two more warm springs, one of them fairly large in size.

I don't know if this counts as a bridge, but nevertheless, the freeway is built above the river.

Freeway still elevated above the river.

Another of many warm springs.

The freeway runs directly over the river.

In an unexpected move, primarily to relocate to the warm sun, we stopped and ate lunch by the side of the pavement. We actually walked alongside the road for a few minutes. At this point there is a pullout alongside the freeway where thrill-seekers can park and walk to a rock climbing area. We opted to go on the opposite side of a low hill that separated us from traffic. It was here that we ate our lunch.

From this location we were nearly out of the gorge, although we still had a few more miles to our final destination. From our lunch spot we could walk to the rim of the hill and see “the narrows.” It didn't look too much worse than anything we had already done.

After lunch we descended the steep embankment from the freeway down to the water. Immediately we had to cross the river and this time it was deeper than at any other place this day, coming up to my belly button. At least by now the air and water had warmed considerably.

Before we knew it we were out of the gorge, although still down in a ravine cut by the river. Even at this point we found more warm springs, one of them with sand bags around it where someone tried creating a little pool.

This section of the river is referred to as "The Narrows."

Hank and Rob at the end of a sheep tunnel.

We stayed down at the river for another mile before we found a dirt road that took us up onto dry ground. We stayed on this road, which paralleled the freeway for over two miles until we arrived at the gas station in Littlefield, Arizona where Hank's wife would meet us. We were grateful to be done, and especially with a little daylight left in the sky.

I kept track of how many times we crossed the river that day: twenty-four. The total length was just over 10 miles and it took us roughly 9 hours. We didn't get as battered on this last half. There was no crawling under tamarisk and no bleeding hands. We were happy. It was a satisfying accomplishment that most people cannot say they've done.

Looking at our overall hike, which includes the first half, the total distance was 27 miles, which we covered in 22 hours. We split it into two days, a month apart, primarily because after the first day we were just too beat!

We hiked from the southern part of St. George, Utah (Bloomington) to the Eagles Landing Travel Plaza, just outside the city limits of Littlefield, Arizona. We walked through very remote country with no road access as well as several miles directly under a major freeway.

Although I doubt that I will ever repeat this feat in my lifetime, I am confident that I will explore much more of the gorge, as well as the Beaver Dam Mountains. ♠

 

(L to R) Rob, Hank and John.

Finally out of the gorge.  Looking back at I-15 and the Beaver Dam Mountains.

Virgin River Gorge hike, Part 1

Hiking the Entire Length of the Virgin River Gorge: Part 1

15 November 2023—Virgin River Gorge: St. George to Cedar Pockets

I met Rob at his house at 5 am and from there we drove to St. George where we met up with his brother, Hank. Hank's wife, Barbara, was extremely sweet and made us a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and sausage. We took twenty minutes of the predawn morning and ate a hearty meal at the kitchen table.

By 7:00 we were on the road and in ten minutes were at our drop-off point at the Ranger Bart Anderson Trailhead at the south end of town. It was our goal to walk from here through the Virgin River Gorge, all the way to Cedar Pockets and then from there completing the gorge and finishing in Littlefield, Arizona. We would break it into two parts, completing one today and hopefully the second half tomorrow.

Personally, I had never met another person who had hiked the length of the gorge. I couldn't even find anyone on the internet who had done it. We concocted the idea a couple years ago and just now got around to doing it. We didn't even know if it was possible. We were entering terra incognita.

The first four miles was uneventful. During this section we weren't even in the gorge yet and instead of staying down by the river we took a more direct approach that put us hiking over hills, on trails and along dirt roads. We finally arrived at the head of the gorge where the canyon walls began to narrow. From this point there would be no more roads. We didn't know what to expect.

Our first challenge was to cross the river. We wasted at least 45 minutes here and I was starting to worry that our entire hike would be doomed from the beginning. The day before at the Bloomington Gauging Station upstream the water flowed at 110 cubic feet per second. Although an important statistic, this number meant nothing to us without practical experience in the water. This section was particularly narrow, which meant it would also be deep. How deep, we didn't know. A jungle of willows and tamarisk grew so densely along the banks that it was nearly impossible to reach the river. When we finally found a place to cut through, the drop-off from the bank to the water was three feet. We didn't dare jump in because we didn't know the depth of the water.

We decided to stay on the left bank and take a faint trail that led down-river. Our worry was that it would lead up the hill and would eventually ledge us up.

The trail led us higher and we had a good view looking down. On the opposite side was a dirt road that came to the water's edge and ended. We also saw a gauging station which created a little dam with water spilling over a concrete edge. This was a gauging station they use to calculate the depth and current flow per second. [I later learned that from this gauging station at the time of our hike the depth was 8.23 feet and flow 159 CFS.]

Virgin River gauging station.

Entering the gorge.

Luckily for us we didn't get ledged up. After rounding a corner we were able to pick our way down. There was still no simple way across the river, but access was now much easier.

We let Hank cross first. He was the tallest. Then Rob went and I followed. I had two hiking poles, which were life-savers. The water came to my lower thighs and was cold, but not ice-chilling. Every step was calculated. I felt the placement of my feet before putting weight on them. The bottom of the river undulated, giving low points and high points. In some places the mud was thick and my boots began to sink, but as long as I kept moving it wasn't an issue. With every step I had to focus on staying balanced against the rushing current.

It was a relief when we made it across that first time. In a literal and figurative sense, we were happy to get our feet wet. From this point forward things moved much more smoothly. We didn't hesitate to cross the river and were able to make good progress.

Second crossing of the river.

I should interject that in two months Rob would be 67 and Hank, 73. They were no spring chickens, but doing excellent for their age. Hank was old enough to be my dad. Both of them still use flip-phones. I hope to still be doing what they're doing when I'm that age.

Although we were making progress, there was nothing easy about this hike. Occasionally we would find a cattle trail or break in vegetation. This, undoubtedly, would always come to an end. Numerous times we crawled on hands and knees below the tangle of tamarisk, still to have our packs and clothing snag on branches.

Virgin River.

Hiking through a jungle of creosote bushes.

The river weaved back and forth across the floor of the canyon and often we would have no choice but to cross. Backtracking to find a way into the water became commonplace, and even then our entry points were usually sketchy. Of the dozens of crossings we did that day, the highest the water ever got was to the bottom of my rib cage.

When we weren't choked by vegetation the hike was a pleasant walk. A few yellow flowers still lingered, as well as different types of cactus. I scanned the slopes of the canyon for signs of bighorn sheep or Indian etchings on the varnished walls. I knew there were treasures out there to be discovered, but most of them would probably require a more in-depth search than what we had time for now.

The only gate we had to pass through.

The history of the Virgin River Gorge is quite telling. For the most part, people tried to avoid it. Indigenous tribes that predate written history passed through here. We know that because they left drawings on the walls. When the first trappers and settlers passed through it was the Shivwits Band of the Southern Paiute Tribe that lived nearby.

If there were any Spanish that passed through, I don't know of them. Father Escalante and his group came as close as the outskirts of modern-day Hurricane, Utah, but didn't pass through the gorge.

The earliest written account I know of involving a white man traveling through is that of Jedediah Smith, a fur trapper. His 1826 trip took him through the gorge, but when he returned a year later he avoided it by traveling along the Santa Clara River and over Utah Hill, later reuniting with the Virgin River on the other side of the Beaver Dam Mountains. It is likely that the local Shivwits apprised him of this alternate route.

Three years later in 1830, Antonio Armijo led an expedition from New Mexico to the San Gabriel Mission in California. He may have read notes from Jedediah Smith or someone else because he avoided the gorge also and took the route over Utah Hill. The Mormons who settled Southern Utah a couple decades later would also use the same route. The Virgin River Gorge, it was decided, was just too rugged and dangerous to be practical.

Taking a break on the Utah/Arizona border.

Looking up-canyon.

We took our first real break at the Utah / Arizona state line. Here there were no signs to mark the boundary; just a dotted line on my map. A major canyon merged with the river at this point, coming in from the west.

Along the entire length of the hike there were a few landmarks we looked forward to, the biggest one being the I-15 freeway bridge that crossed the gorge. Surprisingly I was able to get a GPS location on my phone that placed a blue dot on the map where we were at. Because of that we always knew our location. I determined we had a couple more curves in the river and one pronounced s-curve before the bridge. Encouraged that we were getting closer, we pressed forward.

One of the interesting curiosities of this river is the debris scattered along the high-ground. There's not so much to make it look trashy, but it's definitely there. Being part of the American Southwest, the Virgin River is prone to flash floods. I remember one flood in particular in 2005 that began on the Santa Clara River north of St. George, but eventually coalesced with the Virgin. The flood was so intense that river banks eroded and entire houses collapsed into the river and were swept away downstream.

Among the items we found were pieces of lumber, a bike handle, rubber raft, milk bucket, fully inflated basketball, a bicycle tire, soda cans and of course lots of driftwood. In some places the driftwood had settled on a rock . . . a good fifteen feet above the river!

Lots of debris carried down-river.

We pushed our way down the gorge, oftentimes very literally as we pushed through tangled branches. It was in this area where we first decided to walk in the river for longer stretches rather than fight the overgrowth on the banks. Walking in the water for a hundred yards at a time wasn't too bad as long as there weren't too many rocks or rapids.

We passed a curious-looking rectangular arch. I also kept an eye out for Indian petroglyphs that I knew were somewhere in this area. Our journey took us through a pronounced s-curve and then past the junction with Black Rock Canyon. At last we arrived at the bridge with I-15.

The bridge spanned from one side of the chasm to the other, with two piers planted on each side of the river. Looking up we could see the beams and girders on the underside of the bridge. We marveled at the modern structure and took note that as dozens of cars rushed by on the freeway above, absolutely none of them had any clue that three worn out hikers stood below.

An interesting rectangular arch.

The long-awaited I-15 bridge.

Crossing under the only bridge of the day.

From here we felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. It was 3 pm and we had about three more hours of sunlight. From here the gorge takes a sharp turn to the south and more or less parallels the freeway.

It was here I first noticed gathering storm clouds. We didn't worry too much because now we were within five miles or so from our destination and the canyon walls were more spread out. Although the thick growth along the banks was still an issue, it was no where near as thick as it had been earlier in the hike.

One of the neatest finds we came across was a baby turtle. Hank found it. He flipped it over with his walking stick and saw the legs and head retract into the shell. It was the size of a silver dollar and found on the shore of the river, just inches from the water.

A baby turtle!

A lot of caves and other places to explore later.

Inspecting the river.

Drops of rain began to fall but didn't amount to much.

Since this final stretch somewhat parallels the freeway, we often heard the sound of traffic in the distance. A person could park alongside the freeway and find a way down to the river if they so desired. Indeed there was much more surrounding area to be explored.

Here we noticed the first barrel cactus on the hillside. Another mile or two downriver we started spotting Joshua trees. Occasionally we stirred up quail nesting in the grass.

Barrel cactus along the route.

A crate from Summit Valley Milk, 1979.

Lots of walking in the river.

With a couple miles left to go the sun dipped below the horizon and we were now left to push our way in the dark. We all used a headlamp or flashlight. It now became more difficult to see ahead and strategize which way to go. Crossing or walking in the river was still a necessity. It was a miracle that none of us fell in.

By now we were very anxious to get this thing over with! Hank's wife, Barbara, was to meet us at the Cedar Pockets campground. Miraculously, Hank got cell service and told her to wait because we were running late.

As we got closer we could see the freeway traffic of I-15 in the north. To the west shined a lone light from the campground. That was our destination.

We crossed the river for the last time, then hiked up a hill and along a fence-line until we hit the campground road. Hank called Barbara and told her to meet us there. We were done!

Joshua trees silhouetted on the skyline.

This hike was one of the longer day-hikes I've ever done. In the end we hiked 17 miles in 13 hours; two of those were in the dark. There was very little about this hike that was easy. Much of it was spent walking in water or crawling on hands and knees.

We drove to a restaurant in St. George where three filthy and haggard men relished a meal of hamburgers and fries. Our plan was to finish the second half tomorrow, but we all agreed to do it another day. The hike had taken much longer than expected and there was also a chance of rain the next day. We certainly didn't need the river to be any higher.

To be continued . . .