Date: 2002-10-24
To: Bury Me Not, On the Lone Desert Prairie
Miles today: 0.0

Bury Me Not, On the Lone Desert PrairiePainted Desert/Petrified Forest, Holbrook, Arizona October 22-2412 milesNo elevation gainOn Tuesday, October 22, I left the comfort of my parent¢s house in Arizoan and drove to the Petrified Forest/Painted Desert National Park in northeastern Arizona. The southern half of the park contains a large area sparsely covered with pieces of fallen trees that turned to stone via the forces of silica and time. The northern half contains the badlands known as the Painted Desert ¢ a bunch of rocks and hills of different colors. I arrived too late on Tuesday to get a backcountry camping permit, so I spent the night at a free campground at the entrance gate next to a store that sells petrified wood in all forms imaginable. I set up camp just before dark and just before the thunderstorm started. That night, I learned a few things: (1) I¢m afraid of lightning; (2) when it rains, you will get somewhat wet, no matter what you do; and (3) when down gets wet, it not only loses its insulating power, it also stinks. On Wednesday morning, I drove all through the Petrified Forest, saw petroglyphs, and met several nice people and some cranky people from the northeast. Huge black birds populate the desert. A retired guy from Chicago and I determined that these birds were probably crows. I consulted a man from Japan, and he said that they were called carass (sp?) in Japanese, so we deemed them American carass. Turns out they were ravens.I stopped in at the visitor¢s center and watched the 20-minute film on the park. In fact, I watched it twice, just because I could. My favorite part was the vicious predator that roamed the area millions of years ago called the something kirkpatrickis. I couldn¢t make myself be frightened by something called a kirkpatrickis. Now if it was called a Jeane Kirkpatrickis, I would be concerned. The film employed one of those wonderful narrators with an inappropriately dramatic voice, like the guy who does the narration for a substantial number of movie previews and starts many of them with the phrase ¢In a world where ¢¦¢. It also showed people being handcuffed and taken away in a squad car for taking pieces of petrified wood from the park. Wednesday afternoon, I got a backcountry permit and topographical map, loaded up my backpack, and set off across the Painted Desert on foot. It was all very Bilbo Baggins. Unfortunately, the topo map available for purchase was in 1:50,000 and the contour lines were in meters. The petroglyphs that the ranger pointed out to me on her map were not marked on my map. Thanks. Luckily, my trusty PwC altimeter has a meter option (thanks guys!), so I was able to follow the contour lines. I hiked down the mountain through the foothills to a wash big enough to hold a 6 lane highway. I followed the wash a bit, then cut off over some more hills to the Onyx Bridge (a very large petrified tree that lays across a small wash). I was then lured by two giant monkeys (or rocks shaped like giant monkeys, whatever) into the Black Forest, which proved to be mounds of dark red rock too unstable to climb. After a narrow escape up a rare sand-colored mound, I circled Nipple Rock and headed out to the open grassland, looking for a good campsite. Using my compass and map, I determined that I was indeed still somewhere in northern Arizona. While looking for the ideal campsite, I noticed the tracks of a pack of coyotes. (I know what you are thinking. I verified later with the ranger that they were indeed coyote tracks.) (Note: "coyote" is pronounced ¢kai-oat¢ by all rangers.) I was a little freaked out. We all know that coyotes loved to eat people, right? I trotted back toward the hills as fast as I could with a 30 pound pack but had to stop in the grasslands to set up camp before the sun went down and the massive black cloud lying in wait to the west blew in. My campsite choices were a small wash or high ground. I chose the wash. Better wet than fried. I had a quick dinner; a very quick dinner because I threw half of the rice out of the pot when I grabbed the hot handle. Titanium will conduct that heat right on up the handle. I also managed to bend every one of my tent stakes by banging on them with a handheld boot. Either I¢m incredibly strong, or my tent stakes were not made to be forced into the ground, rather gently coaxed with kind and encouraging words or perhaps massage techniques unknown to me. I threw everything into a garbage bag and huddled down in my tent with a mug of coffee to weather the storm. Then I spilled the entire mug of coffee in the tent. On cue, the lightning started immediately. Flash after flash. I could almost read by it. I wondered whether my sleeping pad would have a grounding effect, even though it now lay in a puddle of coffee. Then it dawned on me that I was surrounded by metal tent poles. I assumed a respectable position so that the ranger rescue team that found me a few days later would hold me in high esteem and say nice things about me at the service. Then I remembered the coyote tracks ¢ the coyote pack tracks. I wondered if coyotes had a fondness for coffee. I whimpered myself to sleep and was awakened just before dawn by the song of coyotes howling in the distance. It was beautiful. Scary, but beautiful.Thursday morning, I hiked the 5 miles back to the visitor center, handiwiped myself, gassed up the truck, and continued east to New Mexico.