A hard, brief storm passed through Disappointment Valley and Spring Creek Basin (and the whole local area) Saturday, so you know what that means:
It’s hard to tell in this still image, but that water is moving. It’s flowing toward me along the ditch at left from just another 100 or so yards up the road (this is Road K20E, just east of Road 19Q). In some places, it had already stopped running, but the ditches were still soggy. There was more evidence of it having washed across the road farther along toward the basin (you can see the familiar horizon with the rimrocks, Filly Peak, McKenna Peak, Temple Butte, submarine ridge and Brumley Point rain-darkened (!) in the distance as the storm recedes to the east and southeast.
And of course, I knew what I’d find within Spring Creek Basin:
We had a number of these last year. This year, not so much. … ALWAYS fabulous to see water running across the first (as you come to it) Spring Creek crossing. It was already receding when I reached it in late afternoon, but the water (very muddy) was happily gurgling along.
From downstream a bit from the crossing (you can see it at just-left-of-top-center) looking upstream. There’s a rocky “beach” to the right that’s at least as wide as the creek bed itself, and it doesn’t look as though that flooded this time.
And from the same spot as above, now looking downstream. There’s a big curve straight ahead, and around that a bit is a seep that has water fairly consistently where the horses like to drink.
At most, floods like these last maybe 24 hours. This one probably – maybe – lasted 12? The rain came down pretty hard, but it didn’t last very long. And the rain, as hard as it was, didn’t penetrate very deep into the soil; an inch – maybe? We need a day(s)long rain that just sooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaks in deeply. That’s what the fragile, drought-stressed vegetation needs.
All the mustangs I saw were on the north side of the creek, and I didn’t cross it. 🙂 Can’t wait to see the evidence elsewhere in the basin when I *can* get across the muddy arroyo!
Skywalker might be considered Tenaz’s lieutenant, though I don’t think he would mind my translation that it’s not a title he likes or plans to use for long (!). Tenaz has two young mares, and Skywalker does keep Tenaz on his toes. They’re part of a bigger group of horses that’s basically two separate bands – one mostly happy family. 🙂
Above, the mares have gone ahead (to the right), and they’re waiting for their turn at the water cooler … err, pools of water that gather in the creek bed just above/upstream of Spring Creek canyon. A couple of other bands beat them to it, so they were politely waiting their turn.
The arroyo actually comes from beyond/above where Skywalker and Tenaz are standing, passes by us on the left, makes a big curve behind me as I’m facing them, runs a short distance, then makes another big curve to enter the canyon. Another few curves later, it empties below the rimrock cliff band that forms the basin’s western boundary into lower, wide-open Disappointment Valley on its way to join Disappointment Creek (which also is dry but for pockets of water) … and on to the Dolores River.
The mustangs definitely rely on these seeps in Spring Creek and its tributary arroyos as the summer gets drier and drier before the hoped-and-prayed-for monsoon rains. The forecast is showing an uptick of chances next week, and we’re crossing fingers, toes and hooves (!) that some rain actually pans out for us from those chances!
We interrupt your regularly scheduled mustangs for an important news update:
WE GOT RAIN!!!!!!!
When you don’t get rain for weeks and weeks, even a little rain is newsworthy. When Mother Nature unleashes a direct hit over Spring Creek Basin, well, that’s major news, that is!
This crazy sky (please tell me the name of those clouds if you know? mammatus or something similar? I read an article about them recently, but I can’t remember the name) was AFTER the rain. Upon entering Spring Creek Basin, I had seen some silver slivers in the distance that had me very excited … but first I saw this sky, and then I saw mustangs, so I had to stop (I ran out of time and patience to choose and process any mustang pix, but they’ll be coming; nothing super exciting as they weren’t super cooperative with that sky above them, chasing the rain-fresh grass!).
Then … THIS:
SPRING CREEK!!!!!
Can you tell that straight across (left side of the pic) is the road? At far right is the curve just after the water passes through the old breached dam (I did a post about it a little while ago). The water is flowing from right to left – and it was loud and muddy and glorious. 🙂 You can see how high it was when it first ran; already it was feet lower by the time I got out there.
Many (most? all?) of the rocks in the foreground are from previous floods. That, my friends, is the power of water in the desert.
Then I rolled around back downstream to just upstream of Spring Creek canyon, through which Spring Creek runs on its way out of Spring Creek Basin. All of the basin’s arroyos feed into the big arroyo that is Spring Creek. This is looking eastish toward that iconic horizon. The canyon is right behind me:
The water flows from right to left, around the curve on downstream, through the short stretch of zigzagging canyon and on across Disappointment Valley to join Disappointment Creek, which ALSO was flowing with rainwater (the flow of the creek ended around solstice weekend), and eventually to the Dolores River way out there where the sky is particularly (and still) dark with rain.
Mammatus (also called mamma [1] or mammatocumulus, meaning “mammary cloud”) is a cellular pattern of pouches hanging underneath the base of a cloud.
People also ask
What does it mean when you see mammatus clouds?
AI Overview
Mammatus clouds, with their distinctive pouch-like or udder-like appearance, often signal the presence of severe weather, particularly thunderstorms, though they can also appear after the storm has passed. While they don’t directly cause storms, they are a visual indicator of unstable atmospheric conditions and can be associated with heavy rain, hail, lightning, or even snow in winter.
Here’s a more detailed explanation:
Formation: Mammatus clouds form when sinking air creates pouch-like structures hanging from the base of other clouds, most commonly the anvil of a cumulonimbus cloud (thunderstorm cloud).
Significance:
They are often seen before, during, or after a thunderstorm, indicating the turbulent and unstable air within the storm system.
Severity:
While not a direct sign of severe weather, their presence suggests the possibility of other dangerous weather conditions like lightning, hail, or strong winds.
Pilot Caution:
Pilots are often advised to avoid cumulonimbus clouds with mammatus formations due to the potential for turbulence.
Not Always Dangerous:
It’s important to note that mammatus clouds don’t always guarantee severe weather. They can also appear after a storm has weakened or dissipated.
Visual Cue:
Despite their potential association with storms, mammatus clouds are known for their striking appearance and are often photographed by weather enthusiasts and meteorologists. –> including this photographer! 🙂
Temple was grazing above the Spring Creek arroyo, and here, she had paused for just a few seconds to look at some band members crossing the arroyo before she resumed her grazing in the very last light of a very beautiful day in Spring Creek Basin.
Creeks in Disappointment country (probably nowhere in the west) do not run straight. They meander. A lot.
When I’m using an arroyo as a pathway to get somewhere (whether broad or narrow, shallow or deep, they are flatter than surrounding areas, and sometimes, the extra miles (those curves) are outweighed by the lack of elevation change), I often “cut” the curves a bit, especially if I don’t have to climb too much.
Above, Dundee is doing exactly the same thing to get from where she and the band were grazing (the pic of Rowan a few days ago) to where water was trickling above ground in the arroyo bottom (which happened to be the Spring Creek arroyo).
Another tip for hiking in mustang country: Follow the mustangs’ trails. 🙂
Better late than never, and when I finally got my act together, I thought Valentine’s Day would be the best day for this rundown.
As usual, these are 12 (and a bonus) images from the last year that came from each month. This year, I think, most of these photos have been on the blog previously. A little reminiscence of the events surrounding each image will follow the photos. Sometimes it’s those emotions and memories that make a particular image special for the photographer, and these are no exception to that. Just being out with the mustangs, in Spring Creek Basin, no matter the weather, is the very best part of what is impossible to share.
Enjoy … and please consider this is my love letter to Spring Creek Basin and its mustangs from 2024. 🙂
January last year was at least somewhat snowy (this year was very much NOT snowy). Skywalker had been a bachelor with a couple of bands until sometime last year, and here he is with some horses from one of those bands. Completing the composition is part of the Spring Creek canyon rimrocks in the near background and Utah’s La Sal Mountains in the far background. (I wish they were that snowy this year.)
This was a magical February visit with Mariah and her band. The low-angle sunshine made each snowflake a visible bit of earthly magic, and when she looked back at somebody – shazam. Magic captured.
Couldn’t pass up this snowy March day in the basin with Temple! Clearly, she had been enjoying the moisture and excuse to roll in the mud. I love the sunshine on her and the falling snow blurring the background.
I had so many opportunities with the mustangs in April, but this image of Hollywood was just *the one*. You all know exactly what I mean. (To update, I haven’t seen him again since the image I posted earlier this winter. It doesn’t mean anything other than I haven’t seen him. …)
When Spring Creek is running with rainwater, that is a time not to miss photographing it because it doesn’t happen often and water doesn’t run in the arroyo bed for very long. When Skywalker moseyed to the edge of the creek in May, just upstream of the canyon, the scene came alive with story: mustang drinking from an ephemeral stream in the desert.
In June, I was lucky to catch Sundance’s band near Odin’s band … and luckier still to see Sundance and Odin having a friendly little chat! Elder stallion and growing young stallion; what a moment. I’d love to know what wisdom Sundance was imparting to young Odin.
Terra’s stallion adores her. And I mean *adores* her. They travel with another band, but Venture has eyes only for Terra. This image is from July, when it’s hot and dry and the horses just like to doze.
Personally, this is one of my favorite images of the year because those are two of my favorite stallions: Storm and Buckeye. With their bands grazing nearby on this warm August evening, the boys greeted each other quietly and respectfully before returning to their mares.
Here’s your Valentine’s Day image, taken last September. 🙂 Buckeye and Rowan, especially, seem to have a special fondness for each other.
After Storm lost his band in October, the mares went through a couple of younger stallions that couldn’t seem to keep them. Flash ended up with Gaia … then also with Mysterium. And finally, as you know now, he gathered all of Storm’s girls (which, I think, probably was due more to them wanting to be together and evading the youngster that had them than to any particular skill Flash had at stealing them!). (I’ve seen Storm just once since he lost the band, way deep in the southeastern part of the basin.)
Last November, we had some great snow, and we were so optimistic for the winter to come! … And that was pretty much it. Here it is February, and we’re desperate for moisture of any kind while we watch the dirt turn to dust, to powder. But in November, Terra was a gorgeous girl in the sunlit snow, and life was good.
We had more lovely light in December – as seen glowing around lovely Winona – but not a heckuva lot of snow.
And as usual, a bonus:
Buckeye’s girls. 🙂 I don’t remember what caused them to run right past me, but I was stoked to capture this image of them nearly in a row, especially just as Bia was leaping a bit of sage or saltbush!
Thanks for following along, happy Valentine’s Day to you and your loved ones, and if we can have a bit of a love(ly) wish … more snow, please! 🙂
*** Update Friday morning: Disappointment Valley is getting RAIN! Not snow, RAIN. In February. In Colorado. Well, you know we’re in desperate need of moisture, so I’ll take it. (But 38F is hard on the wildlife under rain.)
When I was a young Coloradan, newly moved to Durango from Texas, my then-co-workers at The Durango Herald can attest to the fact that the first time snow fell that winter, I went a little bonkers with excitement.
Not much has changed, 22-plus years later. 🙂
We had another great (rain to) snowfall overnight, and it was a wonderland of white this morning – and muddymuddymuddy underneath. The snow is nearly all melted – at least down-valley – now, but rather than wait for tomorrow, here’s a peek at the Thanksgiving-Eve bounty in Spring Creek Basin:
Shortly after sunrise, Chrome’s Point, looking south-southeastish. Flat Top and Round Top are at left in the distance, and Filly Peak is at right.
Looking back north-northwestish, the difference in light is dramatic (this was maybe only 10-15 minutes after the first pic?) as the clouds linger at the higher elevations south and east of Spring Creek Basin and have started clearing to the west and north (though the mountains were engulfed in clouds the whole time I was out).
Holy heavenly light. If I’d been able to see that spotlight of light, with my own eyeballs, at the time, I would have brought out the big gun (these are all from my phone – handy little pocket cam that it is). Wow. Knife Edge is ahead to the left; Brumley Point is visible at far right. Temple Butte and McKenna Peak are still completely within the clouds.
Round Top – aka Saucer (as in flying) Hill – with snow still pouring from the moisture-laden clouds to the southern ridges of Disappointment Valley and beyond to the Glade.
I was just below the base of Knife Edge with mustangs when Temple Butte and McKenna Peak were starting to emerge from the still-billowing clouds. Dramatic much?!?
Heading back to my buggy and the road, looking upstream at the Spring Creek arroyo toward its source at McKenna Peak … Temple Butte behind it … submarine ridge to the right … Brumley Point straight ahead (it sits right on the basin’s southeast boundary) … Round Top at far right. Water WAS trickling through the bed of the arroyo in some places (like where I crossed).
From the ridge at the main/original water catchment (oh, how I hope this snow provided lots and lots of water for our catchments!), looking eastish across the basin. I mean … who DOESN’T get giddy at the sight of snow?! 🙂 Knife Edge is the ridge at far left with the top rim just barely free of snow. See the trees at the base of the ridge at almost farthest left? That’s where the ponies are (the ones I visited, anyway).
This one’s a little out of order, but it sums it all up. 🙂 I love mustangs; I love snow; I love Spring Creek Basin and its mustangs in the snow!
That’s our water. Our moisture. Our lifeblood for growing things.
So, so, so, SOOOOO grateful this Thanksgiving Eve. Happy gratitude to all you wonderful readers and your families on this, my very favorite holiday. Hope you all get to spend it with those you love, in places you love. 🙂
Hold onto your paddles, folks, have I got some rainwater for you. 🙂
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. 🙂 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 … ?! 🙂 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. 🙂 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). 🙂
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. 🙂
* Thanks to Charley Pride for the inspiration behind this post’s title – “(High on a) Mountain of Love.”
