Rain in a Dry Country

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.