
Just another beautiful day in Spring Creek Basin.


And another beautiful night.
Hold onto your paddles, folks, have I got some rainwater for you. π
Brought to you courtesy of Mother Nature –> Southwest Colorado –> Disappointment Valley –> Spring Creek Basin:

A full water-catchment trough is always a good sign. Fortunately, though low (in the tank, uphill behind me), we’ve had enough rain lately to keep this trough full – and there have been a fair number of horses drinking here with the amazing grass around (don’t let the pic fool you; the galleta, in particular, is bonkers this year, along with the alkali sacaton). I may have explained this in the past, but it bears repeating: The triangular sheet of metal over the trough is an evaporation cover, designed to help slow evaporation of precious water in our (usually) dry climate. The shape of the cover is triangular so the horses have plenty of room to drink at the sides of the round trough.

The Flat Top pond looks small in this wide-angle view looking eastish across Spring Creek Basin, but although it has gotten pretty shallow in recent years, it’s a pretty good size.

Good thing I scouted the V-arroyo before I tried to cross it. Those are my tentative footprints in the pillowy, shoe-grabbing – and tire-stopping – mud in the center bottom of the pic. You might not think it’s too bad, but there’s a lot of water in/under that surface mud still, and it is NOT friendly to tires or shoes until it has a chance to seep deeper into the soil and dry out from the bottom up. Along the left side of the pic is the arroyo – we’re looking upstream. The bottom of the arroyo, where I’m standing on relatively firm ground, isn’t very wide (hence my name of the “V”-arroyo), and the road rises to my left – up a little water-carved bank that’s nothing like the wall still in place on the other side of the first Spring Creek crossing.

Holy Spring, err, RIVER! I know it’s hard to tell, but this is the first crossing of the usually-dry arroyo that is Spring Creek (when it’s not masquerading as a rainwater-swollen river). Yes, the other side is a road. π Well, it’s mostly a two-tiered wall; the right side of it is where I dug a channel in the wall the last time the creek ran (back in June) so I could get my ATV across and up and over. It has been widened by crazy people in a truck (I don’t know who … I don’t know anyone that silly/stupid/nutso), but it’s greatly eroded again and is going to need some custom shovel work. (And lowering of the water level. :)) The width here is probably about 25 yards? (Good darting distance.) And this water level is at least 4-5 feet below where it was at its highest/widest mark, behind me, so it’s already running with less volume than at its peak. (WoW!)
I took a lot of pix from here, and I wish I knew how to embed video; I’m still on a super-high from seeing all that water. Bear with me as I show you some upstream and downstream and high-vantage pix. (If you don’t think water in the desert is A BIG DEAL, you don’t live in a desert.)

Looking downstream. Note the two-tiered wall across the creek where the road is (should be). Most of the rocks at left are from previous flooding. But I will tell you, that kind of water can move BIG rocks. I have seen it, and I have moved big (enough) rocks out of the way of crossing in a vehicle or ATV. This is why the powers that be warn people against crossing flooded roads; that water literally grooves arroyos into our salt-desert landscape (milennia ago, this was under a giant ocean!).
Arroyo as defined by Merriam Webster: plural arroyos. 1. : a waterway (as a creek) in a dry region. 2. : an often dry gully or channel carved by water.). … Arroyos are a desert’s proof of water movement – that far bank/wall is much taller than I am. The wall where the road used to be is proof that they’re always changing – with more water.

Looking upstream. Note the water at far right; it was still finding ways to trickle along downstream.

A bit wider view from back up the road a bit. I mean … ?! π I knew, before ever I got there, that I wouldn’t be able to cross, but I did NOT know how river-esque Spring Creek would be. I love, love, love this place.

Similar view, but this shows the bend in the creek at right. … Try to follow me upstream: See McKenna Peak (the pyramid-shaped pointy peak)? Way back there is the source/start of Spring Creek, which – as you all know, being loyal, wonderful readers of this blog – drains Spring Creek BASIN (along with all its multitude of widely (and narrowly) and wildly variable tributary arroyos). As you may or may not know, the creek doesn’t roll in a straight line from there to here (or beyond/behind/downstream of me). So that bend goes around to the left – upstream of the southernmost *major* drainage/arroyo in the basin – and past another creek/arroyo crossing (below the dugout, if you’ve visited). It comes from the eastish side of the basin – with the northernmost *major* drainage/arroyo entering from the northish to also run back to (really from) the northeast. Are you still with me? There are three *major* drainages in Spring Creek Basin with Spring Creek being the lowest, middle drainage – named as the very-most-major drainage and namesake of the basin it drains.
Water is important here. Knowing how it flows is part of the importance. Back in the very-long-ago day, some other silly people – who apparently didn’t know about arroyos and the highly-erodable quality of the salt-desert soil – tried to dam Spring Creek just below the confluence of the third major arroyo. Thinking they would create a reservoir out of which to irrigate land for farming (what WERE they thinking?), they built a dam and dredged miles of irrigation ditch; the remains of both can still be seen. As the story goes, the first major rain of the (likely monsoon?) season brought water rolling like a river down every tiny arroyo, down to and through the big drainages, blasted a hole in the dam that likely had cost boatloads of blood and sweat and resulted in tears (!) … and they went away *disappointed* (har har). … Mother Nature always wins, folks.
Well, I knew better than to attempt the crossing of Spring Creek Basin’s *river* (without more rain … which we’re getting again as I type … the creek would likely be done flowing within 24 hours … though the water will last in pockets and seeps for a good long while), so despite the big group of a couple of bands of mustangs not far away, I headed out, already on a great big, marvelous high.

What you’re looking at in the pic above is our crazy-good grass, which amazes me because of the little – but always valuable – rain we’ve gotten this summer (this year, really; it’s been pretty darn dry since *last* year). The galleta grass is particularly bonkers this year, along with the sand dropseed and/or alkali sacaton (very similar in appearance). This is from right inside the basin’s main/western boundary entrance looking eastish.
From here, my next destination was the south rim of Spring Creek canyon, through which water runs out of Spring Creek Basin, out across lower Disappointment Valley and into Disappointment Creek, which delivers water – along with a “healthy” (aka large) dose of salt and sediment (apologies) – to the grand and spectacular Dolores River.

Spring Creek, draining Spring Creek Basin. π Around the near (left) bend, before the far bend, there’s a fence across the wide-open low ground and a water gap across the creek; that’s the basin’s western boundary. Way yonder, on the horizon, on the far side of the farthest rimrock and even beyond that blue-grey tide of rain, is the south shoulder of eastern Utah’s La Sal Mountains.

Not even my phone’s widest angle is wide enough to take in all the gorgeousity of Spring Creek through its canyon, so here’s another bit of view that takes in more of the upstream canyon area. Spring Creek Basin stretches north (straight ahead of me) and east (to my right) and south (behind me) from this perspective on the canyon’s south rim.

Those layers. The canyon is neither super deep nor particularly long. But it is so gorgeous.

In just the short time I walked out and spent along the rim, the storm to the west was already passing.

Looking upstream across the heart of Spring Creek Basin, where another storm loomed on the northeastern/eastern/southeastern horizon.

And because this is a blog about the wild horses of Spring Creek Basin, there IS a mustang out there, though I’m not sure he’s visible. As far as I know, the young mister is the only one to have crossed the creek (within view, anyway). π

Grow, grass, grow!
Better late than never (this was the last day of specific rain in the forecast). I think we can be said to have gotten some monsoon rains this summer. Despite all the worry leading to this day (yesterday), soooo amazingly grateful. π
* Thanks to Charley Pride for the inspiration behind this post’s title – “(High on a) Mountain of Love.”

I mean, wow, right? Does anyone doubt this latest proof of magic in Disappointment Valley (or on planet Earth?)? π That was absolutely as wide as my cell-phone camera could go; the rainbow was (seemed to be) right above me.

As usual, the rain forming the prism of the rainbows fell in the atmosphere, but not much actually made it to Earth.

And after sunset, this was the storm to the southeast. Only in a video clip was I able to catch the lightning bolts. Time between first and third photo: about an hour and 15 minutes. (And that rain didn’t make it to my location, either. I’m not greedy, but it’s still annoying to have rain *that close*! :))
A recent selection of post-rain images:

The water trough at the main/original water catchment is full again. The tank has about 3 feet of water. It has been mostly dry with a poor winter and without much rain.

Post-rain grass growth! If you live east of the Rockies and in places where it, you know, rains, this might look sparse. … To us, it looks lush and divine! And I will tell you, the mustangs are going after it with gusto!

Do you see the pillar of light? The clouds were heavy the last part of the day (and they and the breeze dropped the mercury comfortably), but then, at THE very end of the day, the sun found a window, and it lit up the basin.

Did you think I was exaggerating? π As usual, the pic doesn’t do justice to the colors of reality.


I couldn’t decide between the really long, wide view or the slightly zoomed-in view, so you get both. π
Just another glorious day in Spring Creek Basin. I promise, pix of ponies are on the way.
P.S. Happy July. π

This targeted downpour over southeastern Spring Creek Basin and upper-ish Disappointment Valley was by no means the only rain we got in the last couple of days. And it probably wasn’t even the most dramatic. But it sure was cool. π
Depending on the part of the valley, we got anywhere from half an inch to probably at least an inch of rain between Thursday afternoon and Friday evening. Every drop is so very welcome.

Today is the summer solstice!
According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac (linked above), “In the Northern Hemisphere, the June solstice (aka summer solstice) occurs when the Sun travels alongΒ its northernmost pathΒ in the sky. ThisΒ marks the astronomical start of summer in the northern half of the globe.Β (In the Southern Hemisphere, itβs the opposite: the June solstice marks the astronomical start of winterΒ when the Sun is at its lowest point in theΒ sky.)
“This solstice marks the official beginning of summer in the Northern Hemisphere, occurring when Earth arrives at the point in its orbit where the North Pole is at its maximum tilt (about 23.5 degrees) toward the Sun, resulting in the longest day and shortest night of the calendar year. (By longest βday,β we mean the longest period of sunlight hours.) On the day of the June solstice, the Northern Hemisphere receives sunlight at the most direct angle of the year.”
The pic of the nearly-full moon rising over Spring Creek Basin landmarks McKenna Peak, Temple Butte, submarine ridge and Brumley Point was taken last night.

What is THAT crazy little alien-looking bee on these prickly pear cacti? There were two of them, and they were busily busy in the depths of these lovely blooms along a road in the basin.

It’s getting pretty warm out, and heat waves distort long views. But they can’t detract from simple beauty, here, featuring Maiku and Corazon.
We also get some nice rain-promise clouds in the afternoons sometimes … but they haven’t dropped any rain on us.
To give a little more range to the views on (of? from?) my route to the top of (and back down off of) a remote ridge in Spring Creek Basin the other day, here are a few more pix (because you don’t mind the views, do you?!):

This was taken on my way back to where I’d left my vehicle at the end of the day (note the very warm, golden light and hefty shadows). On my way out (I took a different route to get there than I did coming back), I could see the horses almost the entire time (except Hollywood; I didn’t see him until I got to the top), but I didn’t take any pix because I didn’t want to take the time to get my camera out of the pack, take pix, put it back in the pack and continue on. I thought the horses might wait for me (grazing) to get closer so I could show them in their awesome related-to-mountain-goats locations. They didn’t. π
In the above pic, the pinkish arrows show where Storm’s band went up (left) and where Sundance’s band went up (right). Those look steep enough, eh?! The yellow arrow at left shows the shale-y little “rimrock” I climbed up and then crawled along for several yards (it doesn’t show how narrow it is, even if you zoom in). The blue arrow at left is the general location of a diagonal trail the horses and deer have that goes up and over – or over and down, depending on their direction of travel. By the time I got to the top of the ridge on my way up, the horses were at the far end – closest to Brumley Point. There’s a little seep over the other (south – right from this view) side of that ridge, there’s a seep kind of at the base of that little “cove,” and from my location taking this pic, there’s a seep in the arroyo right below me.
I’ve been up there before, but I can’t quite remember how I went up (or which band I was visiting then), and I’m still not entirely sure how I went down then. Instead of going down the horses’ trail from that little saddle (blue arrow), I think I went on up that hump of a hill (steeper than it looks from here) and then down onto the ridge just visible at the far right side of the pic, which descends to a lower and slightly rounded-top ridge along and above part of the arroyo.

In the above pic, I’m back on my narrow finger ridge looking back down as I was on my way up; this gives a better view of the broad arroyo that has the couple of seeps. The yellow arrow at far left shows my starting point at rollercoaster ridge.

Now I’m on my way back down after my visit with the horses. I’m at the top of the ridge above that little “cove” – above and to the right of the left pink arrow in the first pic at the top of this post – looking back at the way I came up (yellow arrow) and the way Storm’s band came up (pink arrow). It’s hard to tell here, but those are different ridgelines; they’re more easily seen in the first pic.

This shows the other side of the “cove” (I’m taking the pic from the same spot as the pic just above but now slightly to my left) with the blue arrow indicating the general location of the trail I took back down. (For those of you who’ve been to the basin, that’s Round Top at far left.)

The trail at the far west end finger ridge down to the saddle and the bigger hump hill (which is slightly to my right); I’m taking this pic from the same place as the previous two pix. Perfectly wide enough for upright two- and four-legged travel. π

And the “trail” where Sundance’s band came up from their grazing on the steep side of the “cove.” When I say that mustangs are relatives of mountain goats, I’m not even kidding!

I’m nearly back to the beginning of my “trail” on rollercoaster ridge, looking northwest to Utah’s La Sal Mountains across the lovely shadowed expanse of Spring Creek Basin and lower Disappointment Valley beyond. If I could bottle the peace in this magical, extraordinary place, there’d be no more war or strife or violence anywhere ever.

The very last light over Spring Creek Basin and my epic adventure. That’s the pond below rollercoaster ridge shining like a mirror in the middle ground.
Epic? … Really, just another day in mustang paradise. π (I do promise to feature mustangs again tomorrow. They are the very foundation of the magic of this wondrous place.)

If you’re afraid of heights, you’d have had a hard time hiking with me to this spot … because I had to crawl, on hands and knees, hoping the wind wasn’t stronger than my body weight (no chance of that βha!) because the width of the finger of shale I crawled up on to get to where I’m sitting on the ground to take this pic (below what you can see) was not much wider than my four-square hands and knees. Let’s just say that I didn’t take in the view β or the drop to either side β until I got to this point and shimmied around onto my derriΓ¨re!
What. A. VIEW!
If I say that frequently about Spring Creek Basin, who could blame me β or argue? π
Bonus: It’s starting to look a little green, eh? … Just a little?!
Bonus No. 2:

I knew I was going to find Sundance’s and Storm’s band up top (you think I did a death-defying hands-and-knees crawl for my health!?), but I also found Mr. Hollywood! This pic can’t begin to do justice to this view: It’s still a ridge, though it’s (much) wider than where I crawled up. The horses had already moseyed to the far end by the time I crawled and walked up to this point, which is just above and behind my spot in the first pic. You might have to zoom in to see them.
The horses take me to all the very BEST places! π There will be pix of them to come in future posts.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that although the horses didn’t follow my route UP (!!!!), they had been DOWN that little ridge β at least to the end β by the existence of desiccated manure. (Really, you find it in the craziest places!)

The mustangs weren’t in cooperative locations for catching the rising moon, so I tried a bit different place. I still caught it a bit later than I’d hoped, but with Temple Butte on the left and Brumley Point on the right, Groundhog Mountain in the background and part of Spring Creek Basin in the middle ground … it worked out all right. π
That’s part of Disappointment Road at lower right.