Journey to Utah in 2013, part 5: Weeping Rock, Temple of Sinawava, a hot afternoon, and the Archaeology Trail at Zion National Park

This post is part of a series. To read the first post, click here. To see the gallery, click here.

HANGING VALLEYS AND WET, WET ALCOVES

A deep sleep followed by the usual morning routine managed to obliterate all traces of the previous evening’s hauntedness. I woke up more than ready for the day’s action: some very easy hiking, and a lot of water. Morning was cold, and hats and gloves were required again as we walked to the shuttle stop. As we rode into Zion Canyon again, I gazed longingly at some walls of wavy red rock and decided that before the day ended, I’d come back to them, on foot.

We disembarked at Weeping Rock, and from the shuttle stop it was just a short walk to a sort of half-cave in the side of a cliff of Navajo Sandstone. When we climbed the carved stone steps to this alcove and stood inside, we saw that this place was like a continually running shower. The entire wall was soaking wet, the floor of the alcove was wet, even the air felt wet. Water drips from this wall all day and all night. Elsewhere in the park are many walls from which water seeps, but they call this one Weeping Rock because it’s one of the most saturated.  

Like the alcove we'd seen at Lower Emerald Pool, this little half-cave was formed when softer Kayenta Formation sandstone was eroded away from underneath the Navajo Sandstone. Also like Emerald Pools, the dripping wet wall of rock lies underneath a hanging valley. Actually, underneath two hanging valleys: Weeping Rock is below Echo Canyon, and another canyon that has no name. When there is a lot of water draining from these canyons at once, waterfalls form here, and they can be enormous.

Hanging valleys are all over the place at Zion. You might remember them from the previous post. These canyons once contained tributaries leading more directly to the Virgin River, and have since been left hanging as the Virgin River has cut a deeper path more quickly than the tributaries could do. Now the hanging valleys are clearinghouses for rainwater and meltwater. They channel this water down to the aquifer that lies within the Navajo Sandstone. Water on its way to this aquifer seeps out here at Weeping Rock and other places. It's a slow process; by the time the water emerges, it's been in the rock for over a thousand years.

SIDEWAYS MOVEMENT, COMPLEX GARDENS

How does the water end up seeping out of the rock at Weeping Rock and at Lower Emerald Pool? It turns out that water from rain and snow can penetrate the Navajo Sandstone Formation because it's permeable, but won't soak into the Kayenta Formation underneath so easily. The Kayenta layer contains clay compounds and is far less permeable. When the water has trickled down through the Navajo and hits the Kayenta, it moves sideways across the top of it. Eventually the water meets the surface, where it drips out of cracks and holes in the wall.

It's this water movement that causes the alcoves to form. Emerging water weakens and erodes the lowermost part of the Navajo Sandstone layer; when this part is gone, the Kayenta layer beneath is much more vulnerable to erosion, and it gives way to make a wall that curves inward. But it's not just subtraction at Weeping Rock. New deposits are being added all the time. The water that comes out of the rock contains calcium and other minerals in solution, and where it emerges from the wall, it deposits a kind of limestone that's very porous, called tufa. I could see tufa all over the rock, slimy and almost smooth in some places, rougher in others, adding a fascinating, oceanlike texture to the wall, as if pieces of coral reef had been grafted onto it.

All of this water activity creates the perfect conditions for a hanging garden, a collection of plants that hang from or otherwise cling to a wall or ceiling where water drips out. In a complex hanging garden, of which Weeping Rock is a spectacular example, many species of plants coexist. They fit into a variety of niches in the rock and the debris below it, following driplines of water along a complex surface. I examined the wall at Weeping Rock through my 24-70 lens, and kept finding new places where plants had taken hold. Some had even found tiny erosion-created caves in the wall and made themselves at home. I saw many shooting stars, delicate purple blossoms whose petals pointed backwards. They were coated with mist, just like everything else in this alcove.

A TRICKSTER'S STEEP-WALLED TEMPLE

After half an hour at Weeping Rock, our clothes were getting damp. We moved on to the last stop on the shuttle line. From the drop-off point we walked down a wide path and found ourselves at the Temple of Sinawava and the beginning of the Riverside Walk trail, which follows the Virgin River to The Narrows and the end of the easily walkable section of Zion Canyon. Once you reach The Narrows, Zion Canyon becomes a narrow slot canyon with no dry land on either side.

At the Temple of Sinawava, the walls are so tall – nearly 3,000 feet – and rise up so abruptly from the canyon floor that they block out all other views of the park’s monuments. This sacred-sounding name makes sense for a vault-like space where the vertical cliffs rise high from the riverbed. As we entered the temple, the sun was starting to come out from behind the clouds, and the reddish hues of the canyon walls were illuminated. The river lay half in shadow. Noontime was approaching, and the air was hot. Once again all extraneous layers of clothing came off and were stuffed into my bag. Sweat ran down my face as I gawked at the cliffs above me.

In much of Zion Canyon, vertical walls of Navajo Sandstone rise straight up from a rather wide canyon floor. This topography differs from that found in canyons elsewhere; usually, walls can be found rising up more gradually from a narrower floor, making a sort of V shape. Zion Canyon’s non-V shape is another example of how the Navajo Sandstone Formation interacts with the Kayenta Formation. The process that causes this shape is called canyon widening, and it’s been a key element in the creation of Zion Canyon.

As I’ve mentioned a few times before, the softer Kayenta Formation tends to get eroded away from the Navajo Formation above it. This process made the alcoves at Weeping Rock and Lower Emerald Pool. On a larger scale, this kind of Kayenta erosion leads to the overlying Navajo Formation cliffs becoming unstable. Enormous pieces of sandstone fall off, resulting in the canyon walls gradually moving back away from the river. Over time, the canyon widens. It was erosion of the Kayenta layer that caused a huge chunk of the Navajo layer to collapse and block the river 7,000 years ago, forming the long-lived Sentinel Lake. Events like that enormous landslide are a crucial part of the ongoing canyon-shaping action at Zion.

THE SECRET OF THE SUMMERTIME RIVER

As I perspired in the midday heat, I wondered why this river doesn’t dry up in the summertime. After all, it’s rather shallow. Later I learned that Zion Canyon itself is so deep that the groundwater is often found above it, in the generous aquifer of the Navajo Sandstone. The Kayenta layer blocks the downward motion of water percolating through the Navajo Sandstone, and sends it outward to the surface where it forms springs. Many springs in these rocks, like the ones I’d seen at Weeping Rock and Emerald Pools, are at the right height to feed the Virgin River all year round and keep it flowing, even on summer days with temperatures above 100 degrees.

There are also Navajo Sandstone layers that aren’t very permeable, down in the lower part of the formation, and these too send water outward as springs, far above the level of the river. This older Navajo Sandstone is different from the Navajo Sandstone found at higher elevations elsewhere in the park, and the Temple of Sinawava is a wonderful place to see these differences. From a long-term geological perspective, the lower, less permeable layers of Navajo Sandstone represent the earliest time of this formation’s history, back when the landscape was changing and material was being deposited – first by rivers, then by desert winds.

I found it awe-inspiring to look at this geological display of the history of a changing climate, as an ocean retreated and a desert formed, a desert that may have been the largest to ever exist on Earth. These blocks of stone were once sand dunes, I kept thinking in amazement, finding it impossible to picture that transformation. Now the Riverside Walk trail covers a relatively lush river ecosystem, with red and brown and white cliffs as mementoes of the old environment.

YET ANOTHER LOVELY PLACE TO EAT LUNCH

The Temple of Sinawava is really where the Navajo-Kayenta canyon-widening interaction begins. This is the spot where the Virgin River is no longer merely cutting down through Navajo Sandstone, but is now cutting down through both Navajo and Kayenta layers. North of this point, where the water is only contending with Navajo Sandstone, Zion Canyon is a slot canyon, not wide at all. It’s so narrow in some places that a hiker can stand in the middle and touch both sides with her hands.

We had walked a mile and were now reaching the end of the trail. If we’d had boots and pants suitable for water and dry bags for our stuff, we could’ve continued upriver into The Narrows, walking and possibly swimming in the water. Instead, we chose a boulder – there were many flat ones in the sunshine – and sat down to eat our lunch. This al fresco dining spot was even more beautiful than the one at Upper Emerald Pool. Here the water rushed over fallen boulders with a pleasant, cooling sound, and the riverbed was strewn with rounded rocks carried from far away. There was plenty of room for everyone on the trail to spread out and find their own picnic area. We lingered for a long time, savoring a multi-course meal and watching children playing on the rocks.

After this, Bev was ready to go back to the campground and her novel. I, the hyperactive photographer, was just getting started. We boarded the shuttle together and I got off at Zion Lodge, where I enjoyed Earl Grey tea in the rustic-themed lobby of Zion Canyon Lodge. Then I did what I’d been longing to do since my first shuttle ride: I started walking down the road. I planned to walk all the way to Canyon Junction, to get a better look at the wavy red walls at that end of Zion Canyon. This was basically the same area I’d wandered the evening before, but now it was bright blazing daylight, the sky was blue, and I was on foot.

COLLECTING BEAUTY BY THE RIVER

How happy I was, as I strolled along using my wide-angle lens to gather in the vivid colors, the river and cliffs from every angle. The red road and sandstone, the brilliant greens of the cottonwood trees and grasses, the sky – it was all dazzling, and now I was alone and could fully absorb it. I rambled down to the riverbank and then back up across the road, following my own inclinations. Shooting with the wide-angle lens made this easy. If I saw something interesting, I'd just run forward a bit and include it in the edge of the shot. The caffeine kicked in, and I became an unstoppable photographic force on the mostly empty road. Only shuttles and bikers passed me. I was alone with my curiosity.

At last, after much walking and photographing, I got close to the red rocks I’d been wanting to see, at the southern end of Zion Canyon. Here were the remnants of the Sand Bench landslide of 1996, the one I mentioned in the previous post, that blocked Zion Canyon Scenic Drive and stranded hundreds of people at Zion Lodge. I’d wanted to get a closer look at the layers of rock here and the variety of textures and shades of red in the slide debris. Walking on the road allowed me to see the places where the landslide debris had slid down around the roadcut-exposed Kayenta and Navajo formations, and the underlying Moenave formation as well. This melding of cliffs, smooth river rocks, red sand, and riparian plant life was beautiful. Such a variety of textures and colors, all so satisfying to the eye. These were already some of my favorite photos from the trip.  

After a few hours of this, I got on the shuttle again at Canyon Junction, but I wasn’t ready to stop taking pictures. I rode one stop and got off at the Zion Human History Museum. I remembered that there was a marvelous view of Bridge Mountain from this place. I’d have just enough time to shoot it before heading back to the campground for dinner.

THE PEOPLE WHO LIVED HERE BEFORE

Right here, just a few hundred yards from the Human History Museum, looking up at this flawless view of Bridge Mountain, there used to be a homestead. It belonged to the Crawford family, Mormon settlers who lived here from 1879 until the land the homestead stood on was acquired by Zion National Park. The Crawfords planted fields of alfalfa and fruit orchards, and raised livestock. The original Crawford parents had eleven children. One of these children, William Louis Crawford, became one of the first photographers of what’s now Zion National Park.

Imagine growing up in this spot, exploring the land here as a child, and feeding a growing interest in photography by taking pictures of this place. Louis, as he was called, did a lot of his photographing while on sheepherding expeditions. This has a practicality to it I admire. Cameras were different back then, of course. He couldn’t dart around and shoot like a hummingbird visiting a flower. Louis had to use a heavy camera with glass plates, and exposures could last 3 minutes. But I imagine he had plenty of time for these long exposures as he camped out with the sheep. Eventually his photos would provide a valuable record of life in Zion in the decades before it became a national park.

The next morning was my last chance to explore Zion. I had a mere two hours before we were scheduled to leave. There was one last trail I felt I couldn’t miss: the mysterious Archaeology Trail near our campground. I’d tried to find it the previous morning, but the trailhead is not easy to locate. That last morning at Zion, I set off determined to find it, and somehow I did.   

The Archaeology Trail is so named because it leads to an archaeological site, one that has been excavated and then filled in to protect its resources. The site is an old storage structure and food processing center used by Ancestral Puebloan people 1,000 years ago (Ancestral Puebloan is the preferred term for the Virgin Anasazi and other Anasazi groups). Though there were no artifacts to see, the edges of the structure’s walls were visible on the ground. Here was another place where long-ago inhabitants had conducted the business of feeding themselves and staying alive. After spending time at the Crawford homestead the evening before, it was fascinating to now linger at a much older site and imagine people working here every day, doing practical, necessary things.

The views from this site are even more interesting than the views from the Crawford homestead. Facing north, I could look up into Zion Canyon, and see the various landmarks I’d been visiting over the past few days, as well as the lush greens of the river zone below. Facing south, I could look out into the wider valley where we’d entered the park, and see the results of the canyon widening process, as the Virgin River continues onward and cuts down through the Moenave Formation, the layer that underlies the Kayenta. All around me, the geologic formations of Zion were visible: the Moenave, Kayenta, Navajo Sandstone, and Temple Cap. Though I hadn’t expected it when I began, I discovered that this little hike allowed me to see these formations all in the proper context, and understand better how they fit together.

I walked slowly to the campground, pausing to photograph my favorite spot by the river, reluctant to go back to the RV to pack my stuff. Our departure was imminent. There was so much I still hadn’t seen at Zion. I hadn’t gone on any hikes up to the rim of the canyon. I hadn’t given proper attention to the Human History Museum. I didn’t know a thing about the plants I was shooting. I’d been obsessed with rocks the whole time; geology had grasped my brain and refused to let go. Fortunately for me, our exit from the park would be long and slow, allowing for many more photos and the chance to drive right through the Navajo Sandstone itself.

LEAVING ZION TAKES LONGER THAN YOU'D THINK

On our way out, we took a different route than the one we’d used to enter, turning right before we reached Zion Canyon and continuing on the Zion-Mount Carmel Highway. This road, completed in 1930, was built to provide quicker access to Bryce Canyon and Grand Canyon, both of which lie to the east of Zion. To connect Zion to these points, it was necessary to build a massive tunnel through the rock, over a mile long. Though it only took three years to complete, this tunnel was a gigantic engineering challenge; eventually, the Zion-Mount Carmel Highway and Tunnel were designated as a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark by the American Society of Civil Engineers.

The portion of road leading up to the tunnel includes many switchbacks cut into the Navajo Sandstone. This crooked road was not easy to construct, back in the late 1920s. Rockslides were a constant threat, and one worker was killed during the building process. Simultaneously, on the other side of the tunnel, road construction workers had to contend with slickrock, sandstone that's been smoothed by erosion. The road and tunnel were a tremendous success, greatly increasing tourist access to Zion National Park and other parks in southern Utah. Without it, our route to Bryce Canyon would have been seventy miles longer.

It was certainly impressive when I traveled it. All cars and bikes slowed as we ascended the steep slope en masse, and the line of traffic stopped several times to wait. Larger vehicles required the temporary halting of two-way traffic through the tunnel. During these pauses, people got out of their cars to take pictures. The switchbacks allowed for new views of the now-familiar monoliths of Zion. It was the closest I got to seeing the park from the canyon rim.

On the other side of the tunnel, Zion kept going, but it looked like a different park. While the western side of the tunnel's divide is dominated by red rocks, the eastern side is mostly white. We were in slickrock country now; we were traveling over giant hardened white sand dunes, many embossed with wavy grooves. This pale, striated, smoothly sloping rock is also Navajo Sandstone, though it looks quite different from the Navajo I saw in Zion Canyon. It's the sub-unit of the Navajo known as the White Member, and it's more porous than the redder Navajo cliffs of Zion Canyon. The White Member's lack of color is due to its position at the top of the Navajo Formation. Over time, the oxidated binding materials in the sandstone have been washed down into its lower layers by rainwater, leaving the White Member pale and weak (sorry, couldn't resist).

We stopped to look at Checkerboard Mesa, a mountain of Navajo Sandstone near the road that’s criss-crossed with cracks. A span of 10 million years was required for this feature in the landscape to form. You can see it above in the lower right corner of the group of smaller photos. Overlying the gridded section of Checkerboard Mesa is a layer of rock that's white but unlined. This layer is the Carmel Formation, and it represents a time 150 million years ago when a vast inland sea encroached on the Navajo Formation sand dunes and flattened them. Beds of sediment were laid down at the bottom of the sea that later became layers of limestone, some of which are chock full of fossils.

When we finally reached the east entrance, we were surrounded by more of the Carmel Formation on top of the Temple Cap Formation's orange sandstone. Now I'd seen almost all of the nine formations visible at Zion National Park. I was suprised when we passed the entrance gate. I'd assumed we'd left Zion miles ago. This park is enormous, I thought. Three days is not enough time to understand it. But I put these thoughts out of my mind, and refused to feel sad about leaving. We were already on our way to see more incredible things.

To see lots more photos of Zion National Park, click here.