The northern part of Canyonlands National Park is cut off from the southern part by the deeply gorged of Colorado River. Land above the two-thousand-foot, vertical-walled chasm, is almost flat and quite fertile.
I showed the gorge on Wednesday from Dead Horse Point. Today I walked out on the mesa above the river they call Island in the Sky, like a floating platform for life and meandering. I walked several miles to the edge-of-the-world where another step would take me almost straight down to the muddy river.
Soil is fairly deep up here at six thousand feet. It retains enough of the meager rainfall to grow a healthy crop of grass. I walked through waist-high grass today, but it was not always so. Cattlemen used to graze their herds here where fences are not needed, the drop-off being sufficient to keep the animals “in.” Now that it’s a national park the grass grows high, and among the tough clumps are many wildflowers. I wish I knew all their names.
I walked on the flat mesa enjoying the flowers before finding a string of rock cairns that pointed a way over the edge. I might have gone all the way down to the river, but saw no point. Just enough hiking to get tired, not enough to make tomorrow hard. Just enough to find a few unique places, not so much that they become mundane.
Waist high grass! Oh, what a picture that makes. It reminds me of the old song, "Whispering Grass Don't Tell the Trees (What the Trees Don't Need To Know." If you'll indulge me...
ReplyDeleteWhy do you whisper, green grass
Why tell the tress what ain't so
Whispering grass
The trees don't have to know, no-no
Why tell them all your secrets
Who kissed there long ago
Whispering grass
The trees don't need to know
Don't you tell it to the breeze
For she will tell the birds and bees
And everyone will know
Because you told the blabbering trees
Yes, you told them once before
It's no secret anymore-ore
Why tell them all the old things
They're buried under the snow
Whispering grass, don't tell the trees
'Cause the trees don't need to know-ow
Spoken:
Now, don't you tell it to the breeze
'Cause she'll run 'n' tell it to the birds and bees
And everyone will know
Because you done told the blabberin' trees
Yes you did, ya told 'em once before
So that's why it ain't no secret anymore, mm-mm-mm
Why tell them all the old things
They're buried under the snow
Whispering grass, don't tell the trees
'Cause the trees - don't need - to... know-ow...
:o)
Quaking aspen are the most blabbering trees. their leaves twitter with the slightest gossip. But don,t worry, Steven, your secret is safe: I did not tell them.
ReplyDeleteLove the pinks of flowers and mesas... reminds me of our sunset landing today! The smoothest ever, like a big bird, swooping out to match the shape of mountain curves and then down so naturally the sky blushed a deeper pink, we're home!
ReplyDelete