Exploring the San Rafael Swell

“That’s probably far enough,” my hubby said, braking as we peered down the steep Eagle Canyon road. Our Jeep Patriot didn’t have high clearance, and its tires were worn, so Ted backed up and parked. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Sure.” I opened the door and stepped onto the tawny-colored road. Kenidee, our little Schnauzer, jumped out, eager to get on solid ground. It was Friday the 13th, and we were on our annual Valentine’s trip, this time to the San Rafael Swell, about 30 minutes west of Green River, Utah.
The Swell, approximately 2,000 square miles, is bisected by Interstate 70 and includes towering rock formations, canyons, and wide-open spaces. Millions of years ago, volcanic activity created the uplift of sandstone and limestone known as the San Rafael Reef.
Later, dinosaurs and other beasties roamed the well-watered land, lush with plant and animal life. Prehistoric and historic humans also migrated through the area with the Barrier Canyon culture, Fremont people, Ancestral Puebloans, and Utes leaving their art on the rocks and cliffs.
When the Spanish explored the Swell, they named the San Rafael River in honor of Saint Raphael, an archangel, whose name means God Heals.
With a light snow dusting the trees, we’d already made a stop at the Swasey Cabin which Joseph Swasey built in 1921 out of Douglas fir he cut down in Eagle Canyon. He and his brothers, Sid, Charley, and Rod ran cattle in the Swell in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Behind the cabin, stood a tall rock formation which we dubbed the Bear, but its official name is the Broken Cross Tower.
We also walked to Joe’s Office, a nearby cave where Joe once put in a floor and apparently spent time doing business, and to the Icebox which showed up on Ted’s map as the Refrigerator, a cave with nearly constant temperature where the cowboys kept their perishable food.
As we started the hike into Eagle Canyon, Ted and Kenidee surged ahead. I watched my feet, not wanting to trip over the chunky rocks, but when the road leveled out, I scanned the honeycombed cliffs.
Their warm yellow color; their shapes, like some giant cake decorator had squeezed out rock icing; their numerous hollows, perhaps nesting places for eagles and certainly for ravens, filled me with wonder.
We hiked through washes where flashfloods had left debris on the weeds and small trees that had withstood the waters. Douglas firs, junipers, pinyons, and sage filled the canyon, and ravens and pinyons jays provided music. Finally, after a few miles, we came to Eagle Canyon Arch, a magnificent, 50-foot tall arch that looked like a gigantic mug handle.
We photographed the arch and surrounding cliffs before hiking out, hoping our photos captured at least some of beauty. Once back in the Jeep, Ted drove to a rock art site called the Lone Warrior. Created by the Barrier Canyon people, it depicted an ochre-colored figure that looked like a red Batman to me.
Art by the Barrier Canyon culture is vibrant, often portraying life-sized or larger humanoid figures with huge eyes. It differs from the Fremont, Ancestral Puebloan, and Ute art also painted and etched on the Swell’s sandstone.
Barrier Canyon art is primarily found in the San Rafael Swell and Canyonlands. It was first discovered in Barrier Canyon, now known as Horseshoe Canyon.
For a long time, experts believed the culture was very ancient, between 2,000 and 7,000 years old, predating the Fremont people, but new research, which dates the rock surfaces surrounding the pictographs, indicates they may have lived 900 to 2,000 years ago, perhaps at the same time or even merged with the Fremont culture. The Lone Warrior seemed weathered and pale compared to the Head of Sinbad pictographs we’d visited on a previous trip, but he contained his own kind of power.
After we left the Warrior, we drove down the Reid Nielson Draw road, planning to return the following day to hike another trail, but since the sun was low on the horizon, we turned around and headed back toward Green River.
Before we made it to the freeway, however, our tire light blinked on. When Ted got out to investigate, the left front tire was hissing air. We hadn’t seen another vehicle since leaving Interstate 70 that morning, and my catastrophizing mind immediately conjured up all kinds of frightening scenarios, one of which was spending a very cold night in the Swell.
Fortunately, we had a spare. I was already wearing a down jacket, but I shrugged my heavy coat over it and stood shivering while Ted wielded the jack, levered off the lug nuts, which I couldn’t have budged left to my own devices, and removed the flat.
My big contribution was holding the lug nuts. After he put on the spare, tightened the lug nuts, and lowered the jack, my second contribution was holding up the flap to the tire well while he maneuvered the flat into the space. I was immensely grateful for my husband.
By the time we made it back to Green River, it was completely dark. We checked into our motel and then drove to the Tamarisk Restaurant. It was packed and noisy with the sound of couples and families chatting, but the waiter seated us by the window next to river, silvery in the reflected lights.
The food came fast, hot, and delicious, a veggie burger for me, chicken fried steak for Ted. It was the best Valentine’s meal I’d ever eaten.