De-Na-Zin Wilderness

Beyond the Bisti Badlands, another, larger wilderness area stretches for thousands of acres across some of the most desolate land in the state: the De-Na-Zin Wilderness.

I was alone when I visited the Bisti Badlands, except for my dog Cassidy. After seeing my photos from that trip, my spouse Steve was eager to join me in exploring the area I had only glimpsed in September. So a few weeks later, in mid-November of 2006, we returned to see what we could find.

Only about 10,000 people a year visit the Bisti Badlands, not many compared to most parks around the country. But the De-Na-Zin sees only one tenth of that number. While both spaces seem empty, this area truly is. The two areas together cover 45,000 acres, and are contiguous. It is possible to hike from one end to the other, although you'd have to carry quite a lot of water. There are no facilities at all. Horseback riding is permitted, and it seems that would be ideal, if you had ponies rugged enough to forage in this barren terrain.

The De-Na-Zin lies upstream from the Bisti, in the same watershed. To say upstream is deceiving, as there is no water flowing in the dry arroyos. The area was carved from an ancient seabed by the glaciers, thousands of years ago. Here you can see the layers of sedimentary rock that were deposited on the floor of a vast inland sea that covered much of the interior of our continent during the Cretaceous period.

As in the Bisti, there are many petrified logs to be found here. I imagine these may have been species similiar to the cypress of the bayous of Louisiana, adapted to live in shallow water. Many have a similar shape, with the base of the trunk gracefully flared. Although we didn't find any, dinosaur fossils are also sometimes discovered here.

The eastern end of the De-Na-Zin is composed of colorful shales from the Kirtland formation. Further west and lower in elevation, in the Bisti Badlands, the Fruitland Formation is exposed. This is composed of sandstone, mudstone, coal, shale, and silt; a rich combination of rocks which respond in different ways to the persistent touch of wind and rain.

The basin receives only around eight inches of rain a year, and plant and animal life is scarce. A rare seep we chanced upon showed signs of life; bird, deer and coyote tracks in the mud. Such a water hole is a precious resource here. Cassidy, of course, drank her fill.

Bizarre hoodoos dot the trailess landscape. This is a designated wilderness area and very remote. A GPS is recommended, if you don't have a Cassidy.

In researching for this blog entry, I learned that we were not supposed to climb on the geologic features. I didn't see any sign stating this, and so I want to pass this and other restrictions on now.

1. No mountain bike or motorized vehicles.
2. No campfires, no collecting of fossils or petrified wood.
3. No groups of more than eight people.
4. No trespassing on tribal lands.
5. Grazing, scientific research, and commercial guides need permits.

I don't believe that our presence caused any harm to these features. We only climbed on ones that were solid. However, there are hoodoos and other structures which could be damaged that way, so please use good judgement!

Don't climb this one, for example!

Nor these.

I apologize for the smudged photo, but had to show you these formations regardless. Aren't they beautiful? It is an amazing place, and refreshingly devoid of trash, graffiti, and other reminders of "civilization".

For all of the variation in these photos, we were only there for a few hours. It would be wonderful to hike in and spend several days exploring. The light for photography would be much better near dawn and dusk.

Another hoodoo...love that word!

This formation was fascinating.

It turned out to be an enormous petrified log. Note the packrat nest in the end.

Here's another huge log. Steve has a reach of well over six feet, so you can see how big this tree was.

OK, I know now that this was a no-no. Very sorry, won't do it again!

We ran across some rock which evidently had a high iron content, to guess from the rusty coloration.

More wonders.

And more...

A perfect mushroom. This was taken in mid-November, so we were dressed for cold weather. Spring and fall are the best times to visit this area, as summer temperatures can soar to over 100 F, and monsoon rains or snow can make the dirt roads impassable. Hats are a necessity, and layers are a good idea. It's important to be aware of weather conditions.

A last look at some petrified logs before we headed back to town. It is a long way to go for a one-day trip( over three hours each way), but the nice thing about going with Steve is that we have good long conversations in the car. I can't wait to go back and spend a longer time there. We barely touched the fringe of this amazing place!

Bisti Badlands Part II

Picking up where we left off in the previous blog about Bisti (scroll down past the next one to see it first if you haven't yet)...

And so the sun came out and the day warmed up at last. I was entranced all over again with the bizarre formations and roamed all over taking pictures with my little Pentax.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been transported, like in some Twilight Zone episode, to an alien world. Rocks rose like waves, frozen into unimaginably delicate whipped froth.

And the beasts of the Bisti Badlands were everywhere, usually more humerous than frightening. If you click on this one to enlarge it you'll see what I mean.

Here's a great example of a disintegrated petrified tree, the vertical trunk fractured into fragments while the roots remain intact.

As the sun lowered in the west, the light kept getting better for photography. I needed to stay fairly close to the van. I didn't want to be out there lost in the dark!

I shot as late as I could, moving closer all the time to the sheltering cliff beside which I had parked, out of sight of the dirt road.

At last the sun set and I settled in for the night. It grew very cold, and I ate my simple supper in my sleeping bag inside the van. I soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. When I woke up the next morning I decided that I must've seen all there was to see of the Bisti. A fence stopped me from exploring further east, and to the west and north I could see the main road and distant buildings and power lines. I had read that this was a wilderness area made up of tens of thousands of acres, and, in spite of the natural beauty I had enjoyed, I was a bit disappointed. I decided to head to the larger part of the wilderness area, some miles east, called the De-Nah- Zin.

I started to drive back out to the main road, went about quarter of a mile, and stopped short. I was stunned by a sign and a stile marking the entrance to the Bisti-Denazin Wilderness Area. In my wonder at the landscape the day before, I had driven right past this modest parking area; the previous day's exploration had all been outside the actual designated site! I had another day I could spend hiking, and my time was my own, so I parked and hopped out with renewed enthusiasm. Cassidy, a bit confused but willing as always to go for a walk, led the way down the well-worn trail.

"Now Junior, behave yourself!"

We entered a large drainage basin shaped roughly like the upturned palm of a hand; the hand of one of the ancient Titans. There was a broad plain several miles in length, with finger-like canyons that disappeared into the higher land beyond. I knew I couldn't get lost; to return I could just head back downstream.

And there was indeed a stream, small and opaque, which thrilled the pooch. She can't pass a body of water without wanting to go into it. This one was no exception, and she came out pretty mucky and stinky. Although designated as a wilderness area, ranchers apparently are allowed to graze their cattle in the area. The creek was polluted. Crossing it to get away from the trail, we headed south and discovered...

...forms even more attenuated than those we had seen before...

...and wind sculpted hoodoos, while the evidence of a drowned forest remained all around us.

Exploring the flats we stumbled on these happy clams...or are they hamburgers?

With every step I discovered new delights. And it was practically deserted! I only saw one or two other people all day, though it was a weekend and a perfect day.

Then I spotted my first whole petrified log, perched on top of a mud pedestal. I had been to the Petrified Forest, in Arizona by Interstate 40. But there was a much greater sense of discovery here, where there were no trails to guide me, and no signs to interpret the sights, leaving me free wander and to speculate.

And so I sussed that when trees lay horizontally, they are not susceptible to the penetration of water, and don't break up with freezing the way the vertical ones do.

Which way shall we go? What a delight, to have such wide, trackless space to explore!

We found a beautifully preserved log in a sheltered nook and stopped for lunch. I had brought a bag of buffalo jerky, which proved to be the perfect trail food. Of course I shared it with Cassidy.

This side canyon was particularly beautiful, with many grand columns and petrified logs.

Everywhere we turned the beasts continued to emerge from the stone.

It was in that sacred canyon that I discovered someone had been moved to do ritual here. It seemed a fitting tribute.

In this close-up you can see how well the grain of the wood is preserved in stone.

At last it was time to turn back. I ran out of batteries for the camera just about then. From there I went on to De-Na-Zin, but was too tired to do much more hiking. However, I knew Steve would love this place as much as I did, and I planned to return with him just as soon as we could get away.

If you go, know that this is very, very basic: no campground, no water, no toilets. As you can see from the pictures, there is very little vegetation. Come prepared for desert hiking. Where a broad-brimmed hat, and

Cliff Swallows Inspiration

If you head down Buckman Road off Camino La Tierra on the Northwest edge of Santa Fe, you will eventually get to the Rio Grande. Buckman is a dusty dirt road a bit more heavily traveled than most in the Caja del Rio area. It leads to the well-known Diablo Canyon, just before the river. Here you'll see fantastic cliffs covered with grafitti, a lot of broken glass and shotgun shells. I prefer less popular destinations.

As you drop downhill, you will see a great rocky cliff across the valley. This is made of cooled magma which flowed over the land in the not too terribly distant past, perhaps a bit over one million years ago. The magma poured over earlier layers of compressed volcanic ash, called tufa. Oxides have stained the rock brilliant reds, oranges and golds, with the slate grey basalt capping the massif.

Directly ahead as you descend is an intriguing cove, a dry canyon that glows in the sunlight. An old windmill marks the spot to turn off the main road, just where Buckman road bends down the valley. Ranch tracks will let you get closer to the cliffs. The biggest problem with this hike is the level walk across the flats, where invasive alien plants have established. These leave prickly stickers in socks and shoes...a pain!

The last time I went to this area, it was torn up because of work on the Buckman Diversion Project. They had put in a perplexingly wide dirt road going down the valley. I imagine the weeds will reclaim it in short order once the work is done.

This is a favorite nearby hike for us. We can get there in about twenty minutes. As long as it's been dry for a few days the road is passable. It is a rough uphill hike to climb the slope to the base of the basalt layer, but there are plenty of beautiful spots to rest along the way, and ample shade.

We usually climb the slope on the outer edge of the cove. While a steep climb, it is the easiest route up. The bottom of the canyon is filled with huge boulders of broken basalt. The last time I went there I was alone with Cassidy and I tried to go up through these boulders. It proved to be impossible for my poor old dog to follow me through the jumble of giant rocks. About 2/3 the way up I gave up and headed towards the side, which was a relief...I'm getting old, too!

There are many unsung natural wonders in our state. It seems that no one ever goes to this one, although there is ample evidence of human presence in the past. There is a cave at the top which had been used as a shelter, and recently I found what might be evidence of a gunfight: pock-marked boulders some distance apart. Maybe I've just seen too many old Westerns.

On the slope are some big old junipers, many bearing ax scars. This has to date back fifty years or so, when burros still carried firewood to Santa Fe. Today no one would go so far from where they could drive a truck to get wood.

As the we ascend, the slope gets steeper. We pull ourselves up from boulder to boulder. The rocks are cleaved into smooth facets, and are warm from the sun. This is a hike for the cool time of the year.

Looking back over the valley, it's hard to believe we are just a few miles from the city. Unfortunately this view is now scarred by the new road.

The Junipers cling to life in a harsh environment. Their twisted forms are expressive of their will to survive. Sometimes they appear to dance with the landscape.

As long as we stay out of the No Dog's Land at the bottom of the canyon, Cassidy has no trouble with this kind of trek. Indeed, she runs circles around us!

Looking through an ancient fractured juniper towards the Rio Grande, just beyond the hills.

At the top of the slope rise the basalt-capped cliffs. There is a place 3/4 of the way around the cirque where these can be climbed, although Cassidy needs a leg up. Here you can see the layers of compressed ash capped by the basalt flow. This is the place I painted in my oil canvas entitled Cliff Swallows.