As I pull into the park and throw on my jacket, I realize the cool morning air doesn’t have the icy edge of winter I’d been bracing for. Having grown up at the foot of the Sierra Nevada’s, February’s frigid temps were customary. But in the desert southwest, warmth and sunshinepermeate the sage-studded valley floor, even in the dead of winter.
I walk quickly to the Tonaquint Nature Center, anxious to meet Brian Bock, Ann McLuckie and their two girls Phoebe and Robin, my friends for years. The family is unique; they've traveled to Costa Rica, Hawaii and Panama—all for the joy of birding.
“It’s really amazing birding out here this morning—there’s ring-neck ducks and hooded mergansers,” says Ann, pointing across the mossy pond.
As the family guides me through the park, I appreciate the easy way they engage me in their style of birding. Robin and Phoebe take the lead.
Robin wows at the cluster of snowy-white Great Egrets perched high in a leaf-less cottonwood tree. Phoebe guides us through the underbrush to watch a gorgeous, colorful, male peacock.
My excitement grows as I see birding through their bright, young eyes. And I appreciate the power of this family's culture of learning and discovery.
Listen up St Georgians and neighbors!
The kids may be back in school, but you can still join GO Quest on your public lands through October 18.
Get Outdoors (GO) Quest is a public lands scavenger hunt featuring 5 kid-friendly hikes in the Southern Utah/Northern Arizona area. Those who wish to join in the fun can submit photos or a creative writing piece. Learn more: http://sunclf.com/go/
-Iris Picat and Rachel Tueller
Recently en route for a fishing trip to Otter Creek and Koosharem Reservoir, I pulled into Kingston Canyon in the middle of Utah for a good stretch. As I walked around the site's interpretive panels, I was drawn into the artistic displays, depicting travelers of long ago who ventured along the Old Spanish Trail via horseback and mule.
There was something so delightful about “happening” upon a unique, little gem like Kingston Canyon that all of my senses were refreshed - from the interpretive panels to the cool breeze that drifted through the canyon to the Sevier River rushing along its course under a sturdy, rustic bridge.
Managed by the BLM Richfield Office, this sweet, quiet retreat is a truly refreshing desert oasis. For more information about this and other public lands managed by the BLM Richfield Field Office visit: http://www.blm.gov/ut/st/en/fo/richfield/recreation_.html
Stay safe on your public lands and know before you go!
In this video, Rachel Tueller - Bureau of Land Management AZ Strip District public affairs officer and Tumblr blogger - explains protocol and challenges for citizens to be aware of when using public lands.
Cabin is a True Haven at Pine Valley on Dixie National Forest
Pine Valley, Utah—Orion, the mighty huntsman, barely visible in the western sky, has inched his way across the heavens from the east. In the early hours of the night, the three brilliant gems that line his belt shone like bright beacons in the dark, frosty night. The forest floor, blanketed in snow, now only reflects the dim light cast from the sliver of a moon above.
Hushed and unmoving, I draw in my breath; alert, listening for the slightest rustling of snow. Nothing but deafening silence answers my quiet contemplation. I had wondered if I would hear the footfall of animals at this elevation in winter months or if noises from the nearby rustic town of Pine Valley, Utah would carry to the cabin.
Leaning on the porch railing of the newly renovated 1930’s Forest Service Guard Station, I feel a sense of safety and sanctuary at the aptly named cabin, the “Forest Haven”.
Lifting my gaze to the twinkling stars above I breathe deeply and drink in the silence that is at once soothing and peaceful. I fill my lungs slowly, deliberately, with fresh, crisp mountain air and exhale watching my warm breath rise in the cold air and form wispy, cloud-like tendrils that twist and drift heavenward. Wooden boards stiff from the cold, creak faintly beneath my feet as I cross the porch to the wood box to fill my arms again with logs for the fire. The screen door claps lightly behind me as I quickly, quietly close the door to keep the biting cold from stealing away the warmth of the cabin’s cozy living room. There, by the little black stove, my coworker and friend Iris Picat, slumbers in a deep, soundless sleep resting happily from an exhilarating, unforgettable day.
I add small, neatly chopped and quartered, chunks of wood, furnished by the Forest Service, to what’s left of the fire, poke the grey embers with the wrought iron, and blow gently until the embers glow red. Soon flames rise beneath the pile and lick at the wood that crackles and pops in the growing heat.
Mesmerized by the dancing flames, my mind drifts and catches hold of my fondest moments of the day. Skiing the short, mile-long hill to the cabin with a delightful crew from the Dixie National Forest’s Pine Valley Ranger District who helped us get settled. Justin Laycock’s kind and generous offer to tow the purple kiddie sled laden with our water and supplies up the hill behind his skis. Topher Mason’s good natured mini tutorials that helped us improve our cross country skiing skills. The willingness of our gracious hostess, Marcia Gilles, to lead and organize such a trip, and Jodi Hamels’peaceful presence. The bliss of gliding quickly and smoothly across the snow, with muscles and limbs stretching and extending in natural, synchronized movements. The rich sound of skis rhythmically swishing in the snow. The way the pure, white snow sparkled and glittered like a million diamonds in the sun.
Enjoying a piping hot meal heated on the cabin’s electric stove that took the edge off the cold. Falling fast asleep by the warm fire, contented from long bouts of laughter with Iris as we tell tall tales sprinkled with humor.
Refreshed by the morning, we’re ready for a new day of adventure on the trail. Yesterday’s jaunt to the Mitt Moody Trailhead proved an excellent preview of the endless possibilities that lay ahead today. Dozens of tracks, all shapes and sizes cross our path along the serene Santa Clara River Trail, turning our attention to the trees and leaving us to wonder what stories the tracks could tell of those that made them.
For a moment, I stop in a place where bright bars of sunshine gleam through the trees and light up the snow. I turn my face to the sun and welcome the rays that warm my lips, cheeks, and eyelids. Fewer people travel the trail on this side of the Pine Valley reservoir so our presence seems relatively unknown to others who snow shoe and ski nearby.
As we near the trails’ end, I’m reminded of the simple message of a sign near the cabin that brought a smile to my face that read; “so all may enjoy this area.” Surprisingly, the message appealed to the idealist that I thought had long been buried deep. The one that appreciates the ideal behind public lands that allows me to venture out and enjoy many breathtaking natural beauties I might not otherwise see, that are contained within the broad swaths of land that we all share.
The Cabin “Forest Haven” at Pine Valley Recreation Area is available to the public to rent and reserve. For more information go to: http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/dixie/recreation/camping-cabins/recarea/?recid=71230&actid=101
Twenty seven year old David Davis of Tucson, Arizona served in Afghanistan as a Fire Support Specialist. Jessie Valencia, 26, of Los Angeles, California served as an Army Intelligence Analyst for two deployments - one in Bagdad, Iraq and another in Eastern Afghanistan. Jeremy Shechtman, 31, of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania served two tours in Iraq conducting reconnaissance. Spencer Steward, 28, of Tucson, Arizona served as a crewman on an H1 Huey Helicopter, and Adam Rouse, 28, of Chicago, Illinois served two tours as an infantry member in Iraq.
When these Veterans returned home, they found it challenging at best to find applicable ties between their military service and skills to civilian jobs. How could the vital, life-preserving skills they'd acquired through years of military service - such as scouting for possible targets and Improvised Explosive Devices, conducting house searches, patrols, or working as an aerial gunner or aircraft mechanic - translate to a meaningful, gainful career at home?
Enter David Stancil, the Southwest Conservation Corp Veteran Fire Crew and the Bureau of Land Management's Arizona Strip District.
Read the full story, BLM Partnership with Southwest Conservation Corp Provides Civilian Job Skills for Veterans, by Rachel Tueller.
Arizona's Winter Wonderland - White Pockets in the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument
The truck pitched and yawed as we snaked our way across Arizona’s Paria Plateau and slogged through the deep channels of sandy roads that traverse the desert terrain. Our route this trip lead north across the plateau to a destination known among backcountry travelers as simply, “White Pockets”; one of the few remote locations within the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument that to me, still feels largely like an adventure and expedition.
One section of the formations looked like miniature ski slopes that incited a playful response in me and I found myself bounding to the top of the little pinnacle where the cool wind whipped my hair and filled my lungs with sweet, fresh air. At the far western edge of White Pocket, I was caught up short by beauty so shocking and intense I can remember few other moments as lucid. Once, while white water rafting the Colorado River in Grand Canyon and another, aboard a catamaran, sailing along Kauai’s majestic Napali Coast. Ironically, our fortunate gift that day came with the very weather that left me wondering early on if we should reschedule a venture out that far. Rather than the havoc I anticipated, those thick, menacing clouds created an outrageous contrast of dark shadows and shafts of brilliant sunshine. The kind of contrast that can create a new drastically altered perspective that lends itself to pure inspiration.
As we departed, my companion and I marveled at and reveled in the delicious freedom areas like White Pocket creates for its visitors. For us, this natural wonder had peeled away mundane concerns and left us with nothing but pure, childlike adoration and wonder for the natural world.
The coral pink sand continually shifted under my feet and the enthusiasm I once had about the trip diminished with each laborious step. Though we’d merely begun traversing the desert sands, I could feel my agitation rising with the day’s heat as I scanned the dry, undulating landscape that stretched out before me. I suddenly realized I must have been at least slightly delusional—or partially dehydrated—to have remembered these landscapes as a friendlier, kinder place. But my fond memories may well have been spawned more from the nature of those relatively carefree days, than from the actual environment because I certainly wasn’t finding Mother Nature’s touch to be gentle here.
So in the unseasonable, blistering heat of that mid-October day, I was grateful my hiking partner, Kevin Wright, was just far enough out of range that he couldn’t hear me mutter my weak complaints as I slogged up the dune to meet him. “Whose bright idea was this anyway?” I grumbled quietly and inaudibly. Honestly, neither of us considered that the temperatures might reach the high 90’s this late in the season and admittedly, I was the one that cajoled Wright, the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument Manager, into exploring the Coyote Buttes South anyway.
But at the top of the rise, I found the weight of responsibilities that clouded my mind slowly begin to slough off layer by layer; with each sandy step I made. There’s something about the rigorous physical labor and sacrifice of sweat that’s made in the backcountry that leaves me feeling I’ve truly “earned” the supreme rewards of observing the kind of breathtaking and unique beauty I re-discovered in Coyote Buttes South. It was as though the sweat and exertion cleansed me of the stress and cleared the cloud of duties from my eyes as I began to truly see that desert landscape in all its beauty. I was enthralled by the hundreds of tracks from critters which I could scarcely imagine. After all, what kind of creatures would choose to call this rugged, unforgiving terrain their home? My mind raced in wonder of the tracks and a smile slowly crept across my lips as my vivid imagination began to take hold and piece together a fantastic, fictional story of the possible desert dwellers who ventured there. A scorpion may have scurried up the slope here, a jack rabbit might have scampered to the safety of the brush there—and what kind of injured animal made those awkward tracks? Could a red fox have crossed the path there? The tracks drew me into the present and the concerns of my work-a-day world and its’ associated chaos vanished.
One set of tracks led my eyes to a stunning splash of purple that shot up from the coral pink sands where a beautiful, fragile looking flower grew up from the bone dry soils. I dropped to my knees in the soft sand forming a human tripod and used all my patience to steady the Nikon to capture the flower’s brilliance, beauty and contrasting color. But no matter how I tried, I struggled to capture the true essence of the tender plant that inspired such wonder in me. As I tightened the focus of the lens down on its’ bright yellow stamen, I wondered how such a tender flower could grow with such beauty and grace in such harsh, taxing circumstances. I was filled with fascination by the simple lessons nature teaches individuals on our own terms as we discover how the stories of living things in the backcountry oddly seem to parallel the stories of our own lives.
When I caught up to Wright he was silently, almost reverently drinking in the beauty of the swirling red rock Coyote Buttes is known for. As he quietly snapped pictures of fragile, awe-inspiring sandstone fins, I marveled at the swirls of white and orange sandstone formations that curled above his head that reminded me of fanciful, whipped cake icing piled high in luscious, layered waves. A memory from my Recreation Technician days came back to me followed by a twinge of regret for those who I had assisted and had been so adamant to obtain a permit to reach the Wave in Coyote Buttes North and wouldn’t consider “settling” for anything less. Coyote Buttes South, after all, is much easier to obtain a permit to hike, even if it requires a bit more effort to reach. Still, these wonders that stood before us in all their magnificence were the features those travelers who’d come from distances as far as Japan, Germany, and the Netherlands had missed. Sadly, a feature such as “the Wave,” leaves a few to lose sight of the joy of the journey with their extreme focus fixed on one renowned destination.
After venturing through the wonderland of Coyote Buttes South, we returned to our vehicle and encountered a very happy and satisfied hiking group that included 69 year old Ed Ptak, 58 year old Iris Ptak and their friend Helga who they teased that at 72 had been the quickest hiker of the bunch. Iris shared that the region was “breathtaking—it’s absolutely worth it,” she said, “you really need time here.” Ed added that they were “grateful it’s protected,” and that it hasn’t become overrun with throngs of traffic.
As Wright and I left the Cottonwood trailhead I felt refreshed and ready to face another week of deadlines and responsibilities. I committed once again to return to the outdoors where the natural landscapes can renew my perspective and restore my strength to continue to deliver in my daily duties while seeking more rejuvenating adventures ahead.
