One thing leads to another.....

My favorite camping areas near Bluff, Utah, are on either side of Comb Ridge.  I found this geologic feature beautiful from all angles, as when the setting sun fired up its west flank one afternoon.

To me there's nothing like moseying up a red dirt road in the countryside.  This one ambles north through Comb Wash, the ridge on its right.

On the day I was driving east on Hwy 95, back from a visit to Jacob's Chair and White Canyon, I realized how huge this ridge is.  

I was nearing Blanding, which is twenty-six miles north of Bluff.  And, as if for emphasis, a dramatic highway cut slices through the wall.  

It is both beautiful and formidable.  For the time being I thought of it as some sort of geologic upthrust, and left it at that.

Comb Ridge runs north-south through Bears Ears National Monument, so I began thinking of it as the bear's spine, what with its cockscomb in places also looking like well-articulated vertebrae (1st & 2nd photos above).  Here's the Bear's Ears, in the northward area of the park:

I also love camping on the east side, up Butler Wash, because clambering around on the slick rock side of the ridge is such fun.  The terrain is entirely different from the red escarpment on the west side.

The central red mound (below) is one of the westside 'combs' showing through to the east.  It provided a fine goal for hiking one day, but I was tired and it was farther than it looked!

Eventually I had to head home, south along Hwy 160 toward Flagstaff.  To my astonishment, Comb Ridge traveled right along beside me for miles and miles, nearly to Kayenta, AZ.

It finally petered out near the field of volcanic plugs that includes the famous Agathla Peak, aka El Capitan (below).  By then I was determined to figure out how a ridge so long could have formed.

The explanation didn't make sense at first:  It's a monocline...but one vastly different from nearby, Raplee Ridge (above Mexican Hat, UT).  When I first saw Raplee, I was confounded:  How could flat sedimentary layers suddenly veer downward?!

It happens when a fault deep in the earth causes terrain above to fold, like a tablecloth laying over the edge of a table.  But this didn't fit with what I saw around Comb Ridge -- it was so long (about 80 miles!) and juts up on both sides.  This diagram took a very long time to figure out:

The left side (A) shows the cross-section shape of the earth as a monocline (the fold from high to low) as it originally stood.   The same view on the right side (B) shows the current shape after millennia of river waters eroded out all the earth to the left/west, leaving the escarpment and ridge.  

But why 80 miles long?!  Because it is the eastern boundary of the extensive Monument Upwarp, a 90-by-35 mile rippled area of mesas, escarpments and valleys, which could be pictured as accordioned taffeta. And, as with the Colorado Plateau, of which it's a part, and the nearby Rockies, these all were geomorphed during the Laramide Orogeny, around 70-40 million years ago, give or take a few million years.  

So, with this understanding, I'll be able to sit by my campfire imagining where I am in both time and space.  One thing leads to another:  the hipbone's connected to the thighbone, the Ridge is connected to the Upwarp, the Upwarp's connected to the Colorodo Plateau, the Plateau's connected to the Rockies, and they're all connected by the Laramide Orogeny.  I love this.  So does Marcia Bjornerud in her book, Timefulness:

"Timefulness includes a feeling for distances and proximities in the geography of deep time.  Focusing simply on the age of the earth is like describing a symphony in terms of its total measure count.  Without time, a symphony is a heap of sounds; the durations of notes and recurrence of themes give it shape.  Similarly, the grandeur of Earth's story lies in the gradually unfolding, interwoven rhythms of its many movements, with short motifs scampering over tones that resonate across the entire span of the planet's history." (p. 17)

She suggests that timefulness encourages us to recognize the deep-time flow, of which we are a part, a flow that continues into the deep future.  She posits hopefully that such awareness could help forestall the environmental depredations occurring, were we to fathom, deeply, our place on and responsibility for our Earth.

I'll close, finally, with her enlargement of the concept of sati (derived from E. Shulman's 2014 Rethinking the Buddha: Early Buddhist Philosophy as Meditative Perception.). 

"The Buddhist concept of sati is typically translated as 'mindfulness,' or of being attentive only to the Now.  But it actually means something closer to 'memory of the Present' -- that is, awareness of this moment from a vantage point outside it....From our vantage point in the present, we can replay the past at any speed and envision possible futures.  This geologic habit of mind -- the practice of timefulness -- is a fusion of wyrd and sankofa (sensing the presence of the past), sati (holding a memory of the present), and Seventh Generation thinking (a kind of nostalgia for the future).  It is something like the way parents see their growing children, poignantly remembering them at earlier stages while holding aspirational visions for who they will become." (pp. 162 & 178)

And...one thing leads to another...my daughter and granddaughter.

"Sheesh! Nothin' but rocks, weeds and stickers!"

Recently I spent a day in Joshua Tree National Monument.  It was so boring! Nothin' but rocks, weeds and stickers.  There are these huge piles of boulders everywhere, but they're about as interesting as that big hole in Arizona.

And the weeds!  Ya seen one weed, ya seen 'em all!

Plus there was no color anywhere...just brown, tan and brown!

And no contrast!  Just sameness everywhere.

You'd think the rangers would build a tram or something...maybe plant some flowers.  I saw the left end of this row of rocks and thought they'd put some effort into building a path.  But, no, it was just a granite vein [enduring its orderly dissolution].

Well, at least the sunset was ok.

The 15th Annual Bluff Arts Festival

The Bluff Arts Festival is an annual four-day affair with something for everyone.

One of the favorite activities is building the massive animal that will become a huge bonfire for the annual Winter Solstice Burn.  This year artist Joe Pachak and all comers are creating two entwined ravens out of locally collected materials.  Here are four sculptures from former years.

On Thursday, the first evening, the torch-lit half-mile walk to the river for the story telling reminded me of walking into Reggae on the River -- fewer people, but everyone peaceful, low-key, and happy to be sitting by the rolling San Juan River having a sing-a-long with neighbors and visitors.  

My favorite performance was Ellen Melloy's recorded reading one of her essays.  Her books are why I came to explore this area, and fell in love.  Ellen died too young, before she could share more of her wisdom and humor.

I enjoyed Friday’s Art Mart in the Community Center, and the evening’s music was lively fun backlit by the sunset at the Cow Canyon Trading Post.  Neon Nativz offered electronic dance music with an indigenous vibe...

...while Carute Roman (Gypsy Wagon) offered high energy Roma music in six different languages with accordions, trumpet, fiddle, and guitar. They had everyone up dancing!

My time in and around Bluff was so fun and interesting, and Bears Ears National Monument is so beautiful and intriguing, in both its geology and anthropology, I've already made plans to return for next year's festival, October 15-18, 2020.  Hopefully someday I'll make it to the Winter Solstice Burn!

The 2019 Bluff Film Festival

The 15th annual Bluff Arts Festival was a four-day affair offering a variety of events to satisfy an array of interests.  Friday evening's Film Festival was, for me, the most memorable piece.  There were four films.  (All photos below are from the internet.)

Chip Thomas went to the Navajo Reservation as a young physician.  Gradually his acquaintances became trusted friends and he began photographing their lives.  Growing dissatisfied with the limits of gallery shows, where none of his subjects were able to see themselves, he conceived a larger vision.  He developed techniques for covering entire walls, water tanks, shacks — whatever he could find — with large-scale photographs.  

His work with patients suffering the effects of the uranium mine work they’d done in the ’50’s through the ’90’s led him into political photographic narratives as well.  

After the film (Chip Thomas, physician/photographer/muralist)  we had the honor of hearing Chip interviewed on stage by the two very competent MC’s.  His demeanor was humble and down-to-earth; he’s a gentle doctor/artist with a special spirit, a blessing to us all.

Dark Skies (Dark Skies film on youtube) tells the story of Mark Bailey bringing his small observatory to Torrey, Utah.

Torrey earned dark sky designation from the International Dark-Sky Association.  Bluff is attempting to accomplish the same.  The observatory tours allow visitors to have a view of the cosmos that can foster life-changing realizations.  The film also touches on research regarding the deleterious effects of the over-abundance of light obscuring our night skies -- the effects on sleeping patterns of animals and humans and disruptions of migratory behavior.  

Sweetheart Dancers begins with the fantabulous spectacle of brilliantly costumed, high-energy pow-wow dancers.  (I only found the trailer on youtube:  'Sweetheart Dancers' trailer, and also a summary of their career in ensuing years in this Interview.)

Then we get to know two young men attracted to each other and the dance.  We follow them practicing in their backyard, designing and sewing their costumes, brilliant in color, conception and flare.  We see how nervous and excited they are getting ready at their first pow wow.  Then we hear on the loudspeaker:  'The Sweetheart Dance is only for male and female partners.'  The men are incredulous and devastated.

But they return a year later and we hear:  'The Sweetheart Dance is for anyone in long-term relationships.'  We are not privy to what politics preceded this switch, but it was the beginning of a sea change.  This time the men dance jubilantly and bounce happily to accept their prize.

In an interview (above), it's evident they are traveling the world for competitions and are proud to be setting a positive example for youngsters struggling with confusion and identity issues.  Throughout, the intelligence, pride, humility, and sincerity of these dancers is beautiful to behold.

The final film of the evening, Escape, offered a difficult and compelling look at youth problems of the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe.  (The film:  'Escape"; Huffington Post article about 'Escape')

Alex Munoz (interview) is a filmmaker who assists teens conceive, write and produce films about their lives.  Escape focuses on a football player struggling against homophobia and a serious student hoping to attend college, both being bullied mercilessly by peers and family.  They support each other in a deep bond of friendship.  After nearly carrying out a suicide pact they finally find avenues to escape their pain.  This award-winning film deals with teen suicide, homophobia, alcohol abuse, bullying, and domestic violence.  

Each of the films aired was created by groups doing important work for their communities, and one would hope their efforts could ripple ever outward, blending into others’ ripples, contributing to waves of change.