NO climbing  !

No Climbing ?

No Climbing !

No cl i i

              i

                 i

                     i mbing .  .   

A desert window into a different time.


In warmer weather a native people sat in shade where now we see snow.

They chipped at calcedony nodules trying to get a straight edged flake for a tool, maybe even a rare arrow point out of that twisty mineral.


While climbing such a monolith ("the Sentinal" we called it)  I found still scattered debutage chips from their work on the bench.


A Park Service ranger appeared, but we prevailed on him to jumar up our fixed rope to patrol the summit. 

It was before forbidding rules required his frown.


A  gap  in  time . .

Fresh from scaling Shiprock on the Navajo Reservation

with a "happy band" of brothers from the Rocky Mountain Rescue Group, we gamboled around the Utah desert.