Treasures of the Desert: The Lost and the Found

It heartens me when the family gets together. My husband and I love to listen to our grown children chatting, laughing, reminiscing, and retelling old stories. There are many tales about our numerous camping and boating trips we took along the Colorado River and its nearby lakes. We didn’t have much back then, but we lived in the “land of adventure.” For us, that was living large.

The Hansen family made quite the spectacle back in the day as we’d launch our boat onto Lake Powell. The scenario always looked the same; overloaded with sleeping bags and ice chests, tents, toys, two poodles, and four kids whose tops of their heads barely rose above all of the supplies. We’d make our way across the lake, slowly as to not allow anyone or anything to blow out, and ultimately set up camp on a sandy beach tucked behind a towering mountain for shade.

By day, we explored the many arms of Lake Powell in that boat, twisting into the depths of its canyons. Some canyons slimmed down to narrows. Steve would then shut off the boat. I’d jump on the bow to guide us through the passage as he and the boys used paddles to maneuver us to the end of what was sure to have once been a slot canyon. We’d sit in silent awe, staring up the rock walls that had closed in around us. And then I’d dream about the landscape that stood below the waterline.

I never knew Glen Canyon before there was Lake Powell. I was four-years-old to the day when the nation’s First Lady, Claudia “Lady Bird” Johnson, dedicated Glen Canyon Dam and Powerplant on September 22, 1966. It would only be but a few years later that my parents would make our home along the banks of the Colorado River on the Arizona-California border. On June 22, 1980, one month to the day of my high school graduation, Lake Powell reached its total capacity of over 26 million acre-feet, an elevation of 3,700 feet. I attended college at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff and was introduced to Lake Powell for the first time in 1983. I explored her regularly and have continued to do so ever since.

Most of Glen Canyon itself became submerged beneath the lake. The only intact section remaining is downstream below Glen Canyon’s dam where the Colorado River flows through the 1,000-foot deep ravine for 15 miles where the canyon walls open up near the confluence at Lees Ferry. The most sought after vantage point of Glen Canyon is Horseshoe Bend Overlook. This where the river curves round by 270 degrees. It is spectacular. And it is one of the most photographed places in Arizona.

When June Pace brought to my attention that an exhibit had been temporarily created to showcase images, stories, and artifacts from Glen Canyon in part put together by our mutual friend and longtime river-runner, Martha Ham, I had to see it. Martha and I made the trek by car to the John Wesley Powell River History Museum in Green River, Utah, where the exhibit entitled, Glen Canyon: A River Guide Remembers, is housed. Martha left me alone there, where I spent the next two hours, reading, reviewing, seeing, and listening to the recorded voices of those who knew Glen Canyon personally, intimately. I laughed. And I cried. I felt sad that I had been born a little to late to actually meet Glen Canyon prior to its inundation. And I felt compellingly inspired to live, explore, experience, research, and protect if necessary, the great wilderness that remains.

The Summer Issue of Etched introduces us to places and people who know this place called the southwest. Places that have been lost over time and people who have been inspired by the memories that remain. From a closer look inside Glen Canyon to the farm fields of southern Utah, we explore both the past and the present, celebrating the gifts gleaned from this arid region where water has been the source of life ... and death.

No, my children never knew Glen Canyon before Lake Powell. As I look back, Steve and I made valiant and conscious efforts to make sure that our kids saw the remains of this expansive space that once supported centuries of ancient cultures and wildlife before it stored water. Right or wrong, we cherish what Lake Powell has afforded us. Like the opportunities to see places like Rainbow Bridge and Hole in the Rock, and the grandeur of a visually stunning landscape that stretches for miles upon miles. These are the memories my kids have. And through them, remains a “watered down” recollection of Glen Canyon.

Since my visit to the exhibit in Green River, I have been changed. I’m still processing exactly what that means for me. It will manifest. Each hike I take into a canyon and every river I raft I make a memory of a place, personally and intimately. May you, also, discover a heightened sense to learn something new about something old. Your very voice may be what keeps a place more than a memory.

Darci, Editor in Chief

Venture to Escape: OUR PICKS for Hangouts, Hideouts, and Downright GOOD VIBES!

Spanning approximately 48.5 million acres across the southwestern four-corners region, the Colorado Plateau remains one of few places where the romanticized wild of the American West and magic of the desert still coexist. Here, people come from all over the world to experience the untamed beauty. Visitation to the area continues to grow in this place where just a century before only the indigenous people lived, and outlaws found refuge.

During one of my earlier trips to the Four Corners region, I stopped into a local information office to ask about some historical sites that weren’t listed on the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) maps I had. The woman behind the desk, who admitted she was a ‘local’ and raised in the area, claimed to have no information about such ‘said’ locations. I stood still for a moment as her reply sent my head into a tailspin of thoughts. A series of images began racing through my mind. Pictures of places I had traversed the landscape to ‘seek and find’, remote areas that revealed far more history than I had imagined, and isolated areas of wilderness where true silence could still be heard. I thought about the increased popularity of these locations and it nudged my own desire to protect some of these places lesser known or that have yet to be mapped. Not just for the sake of the land, but also for the sake of visitor safety.

It wasn’t long ago that my husband and I had made the off-road trek out to Tuweep, an overlook in a remote area of the Grand Canyon National Park with a 3000-foot vertical drop looking down on the Colorado River. A storm was moving in, so we headed out. The roads without the impact of weather conditions still require four-wheel drive. As we approached a wash, a white sedan was buried up to the door in sand with four young people frantically waving us down. We spoke different languages but clearly understood the problem. We used our Jeep’s wench to drag their car out of the wash, just as the rain began to pour. I wondered what their fate might have been with no one else out that day and the danger of Monsoon season.

My recent trip to hike The Wave also came to mind. The permit process has certainly elevated the demand for them. The Wave is a visual phenomenon. I was thankful it was a permitted area. Limiting the number of visitors each day, however inconvenient, preserves the sense of serenity and silence only found in the wilderness. The sacred beauty intended for such places as The Wave was still alive, even in one of the world’s most sought-after destinations. It occurred to me, as I remained standing like a deer in headlights at the counter of the information office, that I may have responded similarly as did the woman behind the desk. At the same time, there are countless locations equally as beautiful as The Wave and free to explore. Breathtaking destinations across the Southwest remain untapped, forgotten about, or even overlooked.

This issue of Etched is filled with lists that holler, “Venture to Escape.” Our team has put together just a smattering of our favorite outings, hideouts, and hangouts that challenge you to see anything but ‘basic’. We encourage you to leave your ‘pedestrian’ behind and approach things with a fresh perspective. Good vibes are waiting those who seek and find. I thanked the lady behind the desk and gave her a big smile. I was onto her—I could appreciate her “lack of knowledge.” Secrecy only entices the wanderess in me. And keeping a few places for the next generation gives them a reason to venture and escape.

Darci, Editor in Chief

Take It Outside: Getting Down to Earth

One of the most unorthodox and controversial masters of 20th-century architecture was Frank Lloyd Wright. Over the course of his 70-year career, Wright designed and experimented with architecture in a provocative way. He believed that structure and space could generate and convey cultural values; values that acknowledged nature’s connection to the quality of life. Married to a landscaper, I can testify to that sweet smell of manure and the beauty that emerges from it.

Born in 1962, I experienced remnants of architecture’s mid-century style and its transition into the suburbia frenzy before leaving Southern California’s housing boom. My family relocated to rural Arizona in the 1970s. The move included a change in structure—our home’s structure. My father was in the mobile home industry at the time. He designed and built our ‘house-on-wheels’. The mobile home was created to maximized access and the view to our front yard which included the Colorado River. Here, I discovered nature was an intrinsic force. Living outdoors became my norm.

My dad passed away in 2001. I didn’t know much about his professional past beyond my early memory. While doing some online research, I came across a 1964 ad marketing a housing development called, Darcelle Manor. As Etched design editor, Laurie James, helped me dig deeper we discovered that this 1960s San Bernardino development was indeed, built by my dad and named after me.

Through teary eyes, Laurie and I read the advertisement which declared, “Name The 15 Most Wanted Luxuries In A Home And You’ll Find Darcelle Manor Has Them.” These ‘luxuries’ included: stylish two-story homes, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, carpet and drapes, refrigerated air conditioning, and even an “Automatic Dishwasher for Mother.” The features for the yard, however, resonated: decorator block fenced yards, covered patio with built-in barbecue, sprinkling system, and “Landscaped for Immediate Living.” It was clear my dad realized early on that being outdoors was an integral part of living a quality life. And that—he taught me.

The Outdoor Issue of Etched features those who, “Take It Outside.” These are the people who spend a life or make a life side by side with nature. Our contributors have researched the challenges of watersheds, the efforts to revitalize the forest after a devastating fire, and the history of those who assisted early on in the preservation of the land. Photographer, Nick Adams, ventured across the Arizona desert where rock buildings and wildlife are a common part of the scenery. And we share the experiences of others who have built, from the ground up, straw bale homes.

 “Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you.”
– Frank Lloyd Wright

It only seems fitting that I would marry a landscaper, working side by side with him outdoors as we built his company amidst the southwest landscape. I laid sod and cultivated planters for almost a decade. The payoff? A healthy lifestyle and a mind filled with creative dreams that manifested from the fresh air. I often miss trimming those thorny rose bushes ... and my dad. When I do, I simply ‘take it outside’.

Darci, Editor in Chief

The Colors of the Desert

The road to Monument Valley from the west leads across the Navajo Nation. I love this part of the country. It is vast and filled with color. The varying elevation changes take you from abundantly green vegetation to neutrally barren sand. Exposed layers of rock along the red cliffs weave waves of cream, lavender, and a hint of pale green through them. There is creative color as well, signs of the modern-day Indigenous artists who have painted murals on the walls of water tanks and the lone buildings. What I love best about the drive is the opportunity to pull off the road and meet the locals. I savor the time talking to the Indigenous people who love their land despite the challenges of isolation. And, I can’t lie, I stop for the fry bread. The “real” kind.

The time of the drive to Monument Valley is irrelevant. I’ve been there numerous times. What elates me is knowing that the road leads to the most definitive image of the American West—and one of the most photographed points on earth. I am always excited to see that very first formation in the horizon.

My most recent trip was an awakening to the colors that saturate Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park. A friend and I traversed the off-road trail (4x4 required) that winds through the 91,696 acres crossing both Arizona and Utah borders. The formations towering hundreds of feet into the air are the remnants of the sandstone layers that once covered the region. The Navajo people call Monument Valley, Tsé Bii’ Ndzisgaii meaning “Valley of the Rocks”.

The road we were on climbed uphill to the edge of a plateau noted as Artist’s Point. We got out of the car and looked into the distance—miles of flat land stretched before us spotted by the iconic “monuments”. It was the hour of alpenglow and we had a front row seat to Mother Nature’s transformation to twilight. As the sun began its descent, the red color of rock began to warm, then seemingly ignited into a blazing pillar of fire. Simultaneously, the bright blue sky erupted with vibrant orange and red tones. It was glorious. It was surreal. And before any of it made sense, the blazing red color that lit up Monument Valley began to fade. The sky began to dim as well, turning to shades of pink and lavender, and then to purple as twilight took the stage. I stood in wonder at how perfect this performance of light was. Out of one color came a multitude of hues and shades, working in tandem to create something chromatically spectacular. I likened it to the colors of the human race working in tandem together to create a perfect world.

The fall issue of Etched Magazine has risen from the very canyons and cliffs that we call home. The imagery has taken our photographers to places where words cannot do the beauty justice. Our contributors have sought the stories of the dunes and canyons, as well as the people who live and survive, some for centuries, in this colorful, ever-changing landscape. The Colors of the Desert is a saturated smattering of the best that the Southwest has to offer from a different perspective.

I continue seeking treasures in a desert filled with them—it is a colorful world all on its own. What if we deepened our appreciation for color? What if we saw color in a new light? I believe we would see something more than what we just perceive.

Darci, Editor in Chief