by Brennan Patrick Gillis
Posted in Uncategorized
Hidden within the San Rafael Swell was a previously undocumented archaeological site.
To the west of Green River, bisected by highway 70, lies the San Rafael Swell. The Swell is a remote region of creeks, canyons, and archaeology all guarded by a swath of rugged geology. Known for its dramatic overlooks, rock art, and spectacular camping, the deep canyons of the Swell are also home to ancient and modern cultural history.
As a guide, I had the privilege to tag along on a recent CFI expedition to explore the history of this region. The trip was led by CFI co-founder Karla VanderZanden, and included two guest content experts: historian John Weisheit and archaeologist Jamie Hollingsworth.
Over dinner, Jamie was describing some of the points of interest that we would venture to over the following days, highlighting one particular panel that none of us had heard about previously.
“I was trying to figure out which agency managed it,” Jamie was saying, noting that she had reached out to the BLM, the Forest Service, NPS, and not one had official record of it. After reaching out to the Prehistoric Museum in Price, it was clear that there had yet to be an official documentation of this particular panel.
“So, we get to document it!” Jamie said with an excited grin.
I couldn’t help myself; my thoughts immediately filled with images of Indiana Jones, exploring caverns and swapping out perfectly weighted bags of sand. I had never been a part of any sort of archaeological expedition, so I let myself assume it would be exactly as depicted in the movies. I almost started doing some stretches in case I needed to out run a giant boulder.
It turns out that actual field archaeology is a little less…dramatic. And that’s probably a good thing.
Before we made it to the undocumented site, we spent some time getting to know the Swell. Its name comes from its geology. The overlying sandstone layers would familiar to a Colorado Plateau geo enthusiast: Navajo, Wingate, Coconino Shale, but what makes this area unique is what happened underneath those layers, about 60 million years ago. The basement rock, buried deep underneath the sandstone, faulted during a mountain-building event called the Laramide Orogeny. The fracturing and thrusting of the Laramide Orogeny caused the overlying sandstone to dome upwards. Imagine a pile of blankets resting on top of a flat table. Then, the table snaps down the middle and the two halves separate – one going straight up, and the other staying in place or moving downward. Now, imagine taking a razor blade and cutting through the pile of blankets, creating deep gashes where the tilted layers are visibly exposed.
This maze of side canyons, creeks, washes and alcoves has a rich history of occupancy. Ancestral Puebloans who used these canyons for agriculture, food storage and dwellings – and whose descendants still live and work in the area – have been residing in the Swell since far before any written or oral history.
As we bounced our way along washboard and dirt roads, we chatted about these human interactions with this space. We noted areas where the Old Spanish Trail crossed the rugged terrain, and romanticized about which alcoves held refuge for Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch as they fled frontier-era lawmen.
Over the course of a few days John and Jamie added interpretive context as we hiked and drove and explored the Swell. Finally, we arrived at the site we were planning on documenting. After switching to 4-low and crawling over rocks, driving through sandy washes, and bumping over some dry runnel trenches crossing the road, we pulled into a small parking area.
Near the parking lot was a large boulder field formed from a pre-historic rock slide. We could see the scarring on the high cliffs above, and the destructive path created by the torrent of car and bus size rocks. I quickly scanned to see if there were any Indiana Jones-style boulder-based booby-traps. The large loosely-piled rocks leaned against each other, creating overhangs and gaps that humans could move through. These were the boulders we were chasing!
Hidden within the boulder field, we “discovered” 11 distinct panels. Each panel had to be documented, and Jamie gave us a crash course on how to fill out the registry forms. We used terms like ‘zoomorph’ and ‘anthropomorph’ to describe animal and human-like figures. We measured the size of each panel, and took the compass bearing of the direction one stands to view them. We took note of graffiti, campfire usage, modern impact, and other perceived threats to the long term preservation of these resources.
Authors note: to be clear – we are not the first people to find or visit this site. We were simply the first to document the site and add it to the collective Archeological Record.
When it was all said and done, I realized I had a newfound respect for the detail-oriented science of archaeology. We took minute measurements, nuanced notes, painstaking portrayals and realistic records of each panel…
…all without having to out-run a single giant boulder!
Historians, geologists, archaeologists, and guides are all storytellers. We have an extreme amount of privilege to do the exploring that we do. As guides, when we bring people into rugged landscapes, we aren’t just responsible for feeding and driving them around (although that salmon dish did turn out perfectly). I believe we have an obligation to know and share the context and history of the places we visit.
Thank you to Jamie and John – our content experts, to Karla – our logistical savant, and to each and every participant who embraced the stories, sounds, and sights of this incredible area.
About the Author
Brennan Patrick Gillis is a writer and guide based out of Moab, UT. He works as the Director of Marketing and Communications for the Canyonlands Field Institute, and spends his free time getting lost in the canyons of the Colorado Plateau.