Uncompahgre Plateau, Colorado
My Journeys
with Myla, pt. 1
This begins a sequence
of blog entries concerning my travels with Myla, a superb dog of uncertain
breed (we think she’s half rat terrier and half dachshund) who was found barely
surviving on the streets of Grand Junction and rescued by a group called Grand
Rivers Humane. We adopted her in the autumn of 2013, and she has been a beloved
part of our family ever since. Though she is diminutive in size, she has all the
spirit and heart of a great German Shepherd. These entries concerning my
adventures with Myla will be interspersed with my regular regional
explorations.
Rain is a blessing in a dry country, and this
summer, Colorado’s arid western border with Utah has received a double gift
from the weather of cool nights and almost daily rainstorms.
Recently I was hiking in one of the many canyons
that grace the Uncompahgre Plateau and give it its distinctive and dynamic
landscape. The trail, an old mining road from over half a century ago, begins
on a sandstone slope that eases down to the canyon rim. Myla, hunting for
lizards, lead me off the trail and towards one of the high cliffs that form a
tight bend in the canyon. As I walked past the scattered juniper trees towards
the rim, I heard a sound that at first I thought was the wind blowing through
the canyon’s cottonwood trees. But when I reached the rim with Myla, I realized
with surprise and joy that the stream at the canyon’s base was not only
running, but running strong. This is a stream that is almost always dry or
nearly dry, especially in the summer, so this was an exciting moment.
Myla and I made our way quickly down the old
mining road, which cuts through the canyon wall, and followed the stream. The
water sang and laughed through its sandstone course, tumbling over drops and
ledges, coursing through smooth half-oval passages carved over the many
centuries. Myla would plunge into the water, emerge, shake herself dry, chase
after lizards and a squirrel or two, and then plunge in again.
The climax of our journey was deep in the canyon
where the stream plunged over Precambrian granite, carving a narrow waterfall
that filled a basin which overflowed a dike formed from stone two and half
billion years old – half way to the dawn of earthly time. Myla and I watched the water play on the rocks, until finally she grew restless and began
to probe under great boulders for prey. I’ve only seen that waterfall run
perhaps five or six times, so it was a delight to see it flowing in July, when
usually the western Colorado earth cracks with 102 degree days under a burning
sun.
That waterfall and the rain that caused it to run
were true blessings indeed.
