Desert windows 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 hard 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 . .

 NO climbing  !

No Climbing ?

No Climbing !

No  c l i i

              i

                 i

                     i m bing .  .