New seaweed finds in central California

At the end of my trip through the southwest, I shifted from National Parks and lizards and desert wildflowers to marine life of the central California coast. At tidepooling stops in Cambria and northern Santa Cruz County, I encountered two new-to-me brown seaweed species, exciting discoveries punctuating my long-term study of natural history and biogeography along the west coast.

The first new species was a high intertidal species of rockweed at Cambria in San Luis Obispo County. Rockweeds are a family of brown seaweeds in the order Fucales. Many coastal visitors (enthusiastic about slimy seaweeds or not) have likely seen these organisms since they tend to be common on rocky shorelines and live high in the intertidal zone where a good low tide isn’t necessary to leave them exposed.

Until recently, five rockweed species were recognized along the California coast (Abbott and Hollenberg 1976; Gabrielson et al. 2004; Gabrielson et al. 2012). These species are Fucus distichus, Silvetia compressa, Hesperphycus californicus, Pelvetiopsis limitata, and Pelvetiopsis arborescens. There have been several changes to the scientific names of the California rockweeds since the publication of the landmark book on California seaweeds (Marine Algae of California; Abbott and Hollenberg 1976), so I’ve included the older Latin names in the table below.

Wandering the west coast, I have seen all five of these species at various points, the rarest being P. arborescens which is only found in the vicinity of Monterey. My visit to Cambria last month was my first encounter with the sixth rockweed species, since it was newly described in the scientific literature in a paper earlier this year (Neiva et al. 2017). Maybe I have seen it before without recognizing it as a distinct species.

Two common rockweed species in California: Fucus distichus (left; Carmel Pt., Monterey Co., 2014) and Silvetia compressa (right; Scott Creek, Santa Cruz Co., 2007).

Traditionally species have been described based on their morphology, but increasingly molecular signatures are complementing, and even upending, traditional concepts of differences between species. Neiva and colleagues examined mitochondrial DNA from Pelvetiopsis and Hesperophycus, identifying a new species of Pelvetiopsis: P. hybrida.

Neiva et al.’s study resulted in some other interesting findings. First, they found evidence that P. hybrida originated because of a relatively recent hybridization event between Hesperophycus californicus and Pelvetiopsis arborescens. Up until this study, the authors note, this type of hybridization (allopolyploidy) has probably never been documented before in brown seaweeds. Polyploidy refers to chromosome multiplication inside the nucleus during a hybridization event (for instance, a hybrid progeny has twice the number of chromosomes as its parents). Allopolyploidy occurs when the two parents are from different species.

Second, the researchers confirmed that P. arborescens is a distinct species genetically, and suggested that its restricted range indicates it is a climatic relict. Finally, they found that the evidence didn’t favor placing Hesperophycus on its own separate branch on the evolutionary tree. Instead this genus seemed to stem from within the Pelvetiopsis branch, meaning that it should be renamed to be a part of that group. Hesperophycus californicus was this renamed to P. californicus in the study. 

Pelvetiopsis spp. along the US west coast. Clockwise from upper left: P. limitata (Dillon Beach, Marin Co., CA, 2008), P. californicus (Cambria, San Luis Obispo Co., 2017), P. hybrida (Cambria, 2017) and P. arborescens (Carmel Pt., Monterey Co., CA, 2017).

All those scientific name changes, annoying as they can be when trying to be a diligent student of natural history, are part of the evolution of scientific understanding and hopefully bring us to a better picture of the true evolutionary relationships among organisms over time. So, the current names for the (now) six species of California rockweeds are below:

Note that Silva et al. (2004) recognize two subspecies of Silvetia compressa: S. compressa ssp. compressa on the mainland coast of North America and S. compressa ssp. deliquescens on the Channel Islands in southern California.

At Cambria, the high intertidal rocks had populations of P. hybrida where it was pretty common. I photographed the species pretty intensely, noting that they seemed different from the usual Pelvetiopsis limitata (this species is the most common and widespread of all the species in the genus where I tend to tidepool), but I wasn’t confident I was really seeing the new species until I returned home and reviewed Neiva et al’s paper. Perhaps unsurprisingly because it is a hybrid lineage, P. hybrida is morphologically intermediate to its parent lineages. It has some cryptostomata (tufts of very small colorless hairs on the surface of the plant) like Hesperophycus, but its branches are narrower, intermediate between the two parental species. 

A mix of four intertidal rockweed species at Point Pinos, Monterey Co., 2016. Can you identify the four species?

~ ~ ~ ~

My second new seaweed find got me really excited. It was a kelp, another group of brown seaweeds in the order Laminariales. Kelps are one of my favorite groups of marine plants and after about two decades of tidepooling along the west coast, I think I’ve seen virtually every species that occurs between San Diego to Washington…except one. That would be the elusive Laminaria ephemera.

I’ve seen L. ephemera as a herbarium specimen to be sure, but until this spring I had never seen it in the wild. The magic location was Greyhound Rock in northern Santa Cruz County.

As I often do during rocky intertidal visits, I was compiling a list of large brown seaweeds (Laminariales, Fucales, etc.) present at the site, when I stumbled upon a few long kelp blades in the low intertidal that didn’t immediately register as a known species. The blades were entire (not divided), long, slender, and simple except for a really pronounced sorus (area of spore production) at the center of the blades. I initially thought of Laminaria farlowii, but the blades of that species are distinctly ruffled all over its surface. And then my mind settled on Laminaria ephemera, a species I had long known about but had never positively identified in the field.

The key feature to identify L. ephemera lies in the holdfast. Unlike most other kelp species, it has a discoid holdfast that lacks haptera (spreading branches that superficially resemble plant roots). The holdfast is essentially a small golden brown suction cup that anchors the plant to a rock. Gently moving aside some of the algal cover around the base of the plant, sure enough, I could see the small smooth holdfast.

Laminaria ephemera at Greyhound Rock, Santa Cruz Co., CA, April 2017. Left: Blades. Right: close-up of discoid holdfast.

The population of L. ephemera I discovered was of unknown size, but it didn’t seem large from my observations. There were about 10 blades that seemed to meet the visual criteria for the species, and I checked about half of those to verify the presence of the correct holdfast. There were smaller kelp blades in the low intertidal that could have been less mature plants of the species, or possibly specimens of L. sinclairii or L. setchellii, both of which were also present at the site. The challenge with identification of the kelps is that the juvenile sporophytes all look terribly similar, regardless of species.

Two blades of L. ephemera with sori (regions of a seaweed blade that produce spores) at Greyhound Rock, April 2017.

How would a large seaweed like L. ephemera be hard to miss? A few reasons perhaps. First, as one of the few annual kelps, L. ephemera would quickly mature and then disappear after several months of growth. It would be an unlikely find in the fall or winter. Second, blades might be easily confused for small plants of L. setchellii (before the blade begins to divide into individual straps) or L. sinclairii. One would have to check every holdfast to distinguish L. ephemera from related kelps. Finally, L. ephemera appears to be fairly rare along the west coast of the US. Abbott and Hollenberg (1976) note that it is present from Alaska to Monterey County, but also call it “infrequent”. Reviewing herbarium records available on-line at the Macroalgal Herbarium Portal, in California this species seems to have mainly been collected from Monterey and Humboldt Counties, so my finding of a small population in northern Santa Cruz County may possibly be a new location for this species. This is a species I’d like to study further in terms of prior collections, and … I need to check more kelp holdfasts in the field!

References

Abbott IA, Hollenberg GJ. 1976. Marine Algae of California. Stanford University Press.

Gabrielson PW, Widdowson TB, Lindstrom SC. 2004. Keys to the seaweeds and seagrasses of Oregon and California, north of Point Conception. Phycological Contribution No 6.

Gabrielson PW, Lindstrom SC, O’Kelly CJ. 2012. Keys to the seaweeds and seagrasses of southeast Alaska, British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon. Phycological Contribution No 8.

Macroalgal Herbarium Portal. 2017. http://macroalgae.org/portal/index/php. Accessed 16 May 2017.

Neiva J, Serrão EA, Anderson L, Raimondi PT, Martins N, Gouveia L,Paulino C, Coelho NC, Miller KA, Reed DC, Ladah LB, Pearson GA. 2017. Cryptic diversity, geographical endemism and allopolyploidy in NE Pacific seaweeds. BMC Evolutionary Biology 17:30.

Silva PC. 1990. Hesperophycus Setchell & Gardner, nom. cons. prop., a problematic name applied to a distinct genus of Fucaceae (Phaeophyceae). Taxon 39:1-8.

Silva PC, Pedroche FF, Chacana ME, Aguilar-Rosas R, Aguilar-Rosas LE, Raum J. 2004. Geographic correlation of morphological and molecular variation in Silvetia compressa (Fucaceae, Fucales, Phaeophyceae). Phycologia 43:204-214.

Black Rock Canyon at Joshua Tree

A Joshua Tree in the lower Black Rock Canyon.

Joshua Tree National Park was the final NPS stop on my April loop through the Southwest. The park straddles the border of the Mojave and Sonoran deserts, the former encompassing the northern part of the park and extending up to Death Valley, and the latter desert encompassing the southern portion of the park.

Arriving after dark after driving through Kingman, AZ, Mojave National Preserve, and a short segment of old Route 66, I camped in the north central part of the park at the Indian Cove Campground. It was not crowded and a lovely spot, encircled about by the large fractured boulders that are one of the common landscape features of Joshua Tree. The morning light revealed all of the flowers present near my campsite, especially yellow patches of Desert Senna. The area looked like a tended garden with rocks and the lovely flora.

Packing up camp, I drove to the northwest corner of the park for a hike up Black Rock Canyon. There is another campground at the trailhead with a series of trails that radiate to the east and south. The canyon is initially wide, sandy, and full of the other iconic feature of the park: Joshua Trees (Yucca brevifolia). I saw (and heard) several quail in this area including a pair or two. The birds quickly scurried to and fro over the ground, not at all interested in getting close to a human.

Quail at Black Rock Canyon.

With some elevation gain heading along the trail to the south, the valleys grew narrower and rockier, and new woody species and more flowers became evident. I first noticed juniper, then pines (Pinus monophylla) and oaks. Joshua Trees were still present, as was the related but shorter species, Mojave yucca (Y. shidigera).

There were many flowers in bloom, including orange desert mallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua), the common desert dandelion (Malacothrix glabrata), bladderpod (Peritoma arborea), and Wallace’s woolly daisy (Eriophyllum wallacei), a tiny yellow aster found in sand along the edges of the trails. I also observed vines and fruits of wild cucumber, a plant not uncommon in the chaparral of coastal California, with its spiked fruits shaped like kiwis. The fruits in this area were particularly large and seemed to be among the largest I’ve ever seen of this species.

Diversity of blooming plants. Clockwise from upper left: Sphaeralcea ambigua (desert mallow), Phacelia sp., Malacothrix glabrata (desert dandelion), Salvia columbariae (chia), Layia glandulosa (white tidy-tips), and Eschscholzia glyptosperma (desert gold poppy). 

Many cacti were in bloom with their very showy flowers. The beavertail (Opuntia basilaris) had large flowers with concentric layers of ruffled pink petals. There were similarly-colored flowers on the hedgehog cactus (Echinocereus engelmannii) and red blooms on the related E. mojavensis. The flowers of the beavertail had a sweet, perhaps fruity, smell that seemed familiar but I could make the association in my mind.

Blooming cacti. Left: Opuntia basilaris (beavertail cactus). Center: Echinocereus engelmannii. Right: E. mojavensis.

The Black Rock Canyon area had an interesting assortment of wildlife too: the quail previously mentioned, many flying insects, chipmunk, and lizard. I had to pass a swarm of bees on the trail that was congregating around the tiniest of water holes seeping from a rock.

More desert fauna. The bees at right were congregating around a very tiny water
seep from a desert rock.

I am still learning about the differences among the various deserts of the Southwest. The Mojave is the smallest and driest of these deserts (MacKay 2013). Various maps show somewhat different boundaries between the southwest deserts, but basically the Mojave Desert stretches from Joshua Tree NP in the south to the Landcaster area in the west, Death Valley National Park in the north, and the southern tip of Nevada and northwest corner of Arizona to the east (Pavlik 2008, Mackay 2013). To the north of the Mojave is the cooler desert of the Great Basin that encompasses most of Nevada, while to the south and east is the Sonoran Desert that stretches south into the Baja and Sonoran regions of northern Mexico.

Two perspectives on the geographic extent of the Mojave Desert and nearby deserts in the US Southwest. My travels through the Southwest took me through the Great Basin, Colorado Plateau, Arizona/New Mexico Plateau, and Mojave Desert. Base maps from the USGS and EPA; in the public domain.

Sunrise at the Indian Cove Campground.

Some characteristic species can help guide one through the various deserts of the region. The Joshua Trees are indicative of the Mojave, occurring in places from NW Arizona to Joshua Tree to the high desert north of Los Angeles. The Sonoran desert has the iconic saguaro cactus (not seen on my trip) and the wonderful ocotillo with its flaming branch tips of red flowers. I did not see ocotillo in the northern part of Joshua Tree (which is Mojave territory), but saw it in abundance at the southern end of the park on a previous trip (that area is Sonoran territory). Interestingly, I also saw a population along Interstate 40 south of Kingman, AZ.

The Mojave Desert has a high diversity of plant species (>2600), a wide range of elevations which provides for a diversity of habitats, and a rate of plant endemism of about 25% (MacKay 2013). Mackay (2013) suggests the area may be under-explored botanically, with the possibility of future plant discoveries.

References

MacKay P. 2013. Mojave Desert Wildflowers. 2^nd ed. Rowman & Littlefield

Pavlik BM. 2008. The California Deserts. An Ecological Rediscovery. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA.

Arizona's canyons and cinder cones

After backpacking for a night in the Petrified Forest, the rest of my time in northern Arizona was a bit of a whirlwind of short visits to a couple of other NPS and BLM sites including Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, the south rim of the Grand Canyon, Walnut Canyon National Monument, and BLM land near Kingman for wildflowers.

Sunset Crater Volcano is a small monument located just a short distance north of Flagstaff. It features a black and brick red cinder cone that erupted less than a thousand years ago, and an older and shorter volcano. The smooth slopes of the mountain are lightly forested.

View of Sunset Crater Volcano from the west.

The Grand Canyon is of course world famous, though this was my first time ever visiting the park. I didn’t leave much time in my schedule at all that day, so my visit consisted of a few stops at lookout points along the south rim. The canyon is immense, although I’m not sure I was as impressed with the view as I was with the view from Canyonlands NP the week prior in Utah.

Fisheye view of the Grand Canyon from Moran Point on the south rim.

Walnut Canyon.

Walnut Canyon National Monument is another small NPS unit in the Flagstaff area. A canyon several hundred feet deep winds through the area with grey and beige colored striated rock forming the walls of the canyon. Like Mesa Verde and Bandelier, the canyon contains Ancestral Pueblo cliff dwellings which form one of the main attractions of the site. The canyon floor, slopes, and tops of the mesas are forested with juniper, pinyon pine, and Douglas fir. Banana yucca and Opuntia cacti were common.

En route to southern California, my last Arizona adventures were in the Kingman area in the northwest part of the state. Some distance east of Kingman along Interstate 40 I began to notice abundant wildflowers as I was driving, including the orange flowers of desert mallow. So, in Kingman I stopped at the BLM office to scope out some potential places to wander around and I ended up exploring a little along the western slope of the Hualapai Range. I found a diversity of plants in bloom and collected a few small specimens to press in a book. Farther along I40, south of Kingman, I also discovered blooming ocotillo, one of my favorite desert plants. Growing in tall scraggly tufts from the ground, this species cannot be missed even from a fast-moving car, and even less so when it shows off its fiery red flowers.

Left: Forested volcanic field on a slope just west of Sunset Crater Volcano. Right: Bright yellow lichens colonizing volcanic rock.

Whiptail lizard at Walnut Creek National Monument.

Cliff Dwellings at Walnut Canyon. Unfortunately early explorers and collectors damaged many of the dwellings in this area, including using dynamite to knock down the ancient walls.

Colorado River at Grand Canyon National Park from
Desert View on the south rim.

Spring rain in the Painted Desert

Painted Forest, Petrified Forest National Park.

Unusual events leave lasting impressions on the mind, and my overnight trip to the Painted Desert of Petrified Forest National Park will definitely be one of them.

I arrived at the park on Monday afternoon after stops at El Malpais and El Morro National Monuments in western New Mexico. It was enjoyable seeing these sites, though I did not find them as interesting as Bandelier NM to the north. The wind was strong for much of the day on Monday and if anything, it increased as I drove through the remote town of Zuni Pueblo into eastern Arizona.

I obtained a backpacking permit from the Petrified Forest Visitor’s Center, intending to hike into the Painted Desert wilderness area north of the main park road and camp for the night. A trail leads into the wilderness from the old inn perched above the valley. I seemed to be the only one at the trailhead by evening, so I suspect I was the only visitor to the northern section of the park that night.

From the inn, the trail drops several hundred feet in elevation through brick red mud hills into a narrow wash that makes its way to the north. In this descent into the Painted Desert there were a surprisingly large number of plants in bloom, mainly of three species: bright red Castilleja (paintbrushes), yellow Calochortus (sego lilies), and purple Phacelia. A number of Yucca plants had flower spikes developing too, with a few flowers already open.

Flowers in bloom at Petrified Forest National Park. Left: Phacelia. Center: Ephedra. Right: Castilleja.

Calochortus before (left) and after (right) the rains.

I crossed Lithodendron Wash, a large dry creek bed which is perhaps some 20 m wide and which is a major hydrologic feature at the northern end of the park. The name is appropriate for the park: “litho” referring to rock, and “dendron” for tree. To the north beyond the dry wash, the wilderness begins. Large and small petrified wood was everywhere – in the wrinkles between the mud hills, in the alluvial fans at the base of the hills, and in the washes. The largest trunks were probably at least a half meter wide, but they were broken into segments that were not very long. One could imagine these Triassic conifers being a hundred feet tall or so when standing.

Trunk segments in a valley (left), and close-up of banding pattern in petrified wood (right).

Sunset was approaching after I entered the wilderness so I found a place to pitch the tent in a sort of cove of small mud hills with some nice petrified trunks strewn about for scenery in the morning. The wind was still strong at times even in this relatively protected area and the tent was a little difficult to set up. I left the rainfly off the top.

About 3:15 in the morning I awoke to the first sounds of raindrops on the tent. I hastily grabbed the rainfly and began to cover the tent. The rain grew harder, but the wind thankfully began to abate. I attempted to sleep more, but I awoke for good at dusk at about 5 AM. The rain continued, and if anything got harder as the early morning developed.

Peeking outside the tent in the early light of morning gave the first indication that the trek back to the car was possibly going to be an adventure. The hard desert crust on the north side of the tent was now soft mud. My finger sank easily into the mud. On the south side of the tent, a shallow rivulet was flowing, moving water off towards its eventual connection with Lithodendron Wash. My tent wasn’t even in a large drainage area. With what seemed like a lot of rain, how much water would be in the creek bed?

After about 5 hours the rain finally stopped. The center of my tent was still dry but most of the margins were wet and muddy. The rivulets of water remained near my campsite. I put the valuables like the laptop and camera in bags to keep them dry (should the rain return), and packed up my gear inside the tent as much as possible before attempting to deal with the mud.

Although the tent was pretty muddy, (and my hiking boots would eventually be muddy too), I managed to keep the rest of my gear fairly clean. I stepped into the gooey mud and noticed that the first inch of clay easily attached to my boots revealing the dry soil just below. A lot of water over a sustained period would be needed to deeply soak into this parched landscape. The landscape wasn’t a deep layer of mud like I’m used to in my coastal wetland work, but it was a thin layer of sticky goo all over the place.

The hike out of the wilderness and back to the inn was actually not that bad. By staying on the sandier bottoms of the washes, or by walking on rocks or gravel when possible, I could minimize the impact of my footprints on the desert clay and make my own trek through the desert easier.

Tent site (left) and traces of my footsteps (right). 

The rain had stopped, but down the narrow washes water flowed as pink rivulets, briefly redistributing some of the surface paint of the desert. Lithodendron Wash itself had flowing water or standing pools, but there was much less water than I expected. Perhaps the sound of the rain on the tent exaggerated the amount of rain that had fell that early morning, or more likely, the significant amount of rain that had fallen was easily absorbed by the surface clay in this large basin.

Pink rivulets of water in a small wash (left) and in Lithodendron Wash (right).

The desert plants, were they capable of emotions or the expression thereof, were probably rejoicing. Rain comes infrequently to the desert, and those brief periods of precipitation are like opening a well-stocked pantry after nearly starving for months. Drops of water lingered on leaves and flowers. Soils that had been cracked in the sun still retained the patchwork pattern of parched ground, but were now softened by the absorbed water.

I think I was fortunate to be in the desert during what seemed like a pretty significant rain storm. April is typically one of the drier months in the park. Surely there have been and will be larger storms, episodic events that bring enough water abruptly to collapse river banks and significantly erode channels. There was no thunder and lightening with this particular storm, elements that would have made the experience more adventurous but which would have also been a little dangerous. 

Painted Desert after the rains.

Yucca plants in the Painted Desert. 

Interesting rocky pavement in a small wash.

Bandelier National Monument

Bandelier is a small gem located in the mountains northwest of Santa Fe in northern New Mexico. It is close to Los Alamos National Labs and the Valle Caldera. The park preserves both archaeological features of the Ancestral Pueblo people (much like Mesa Verde), and a mountainous landscape of forest and high desert savannah.

Cave dwellings at Bandelier. A few are open to visitors via ladders. Ar right: view from a cave dwelling with the ruins of a settlement in Frijoles Valley visible below the forest.

Starting at the visitors center, I took the main trail to see the ruins of the village and the cave dwellings that the former inhabitants carved into the soft sandstone rocks that line the northeast side of Frijoles Valley. Unlike Mesa Verde, visitors to the park are allowed to enter some of the dwellings without special tickets. I climbed into a few of the tight chambers with their natural rock windows and blackened ceilings from ancient fires. The people who used to inhabit Bandelier also used stone bricks and mortar to build living structures and kivas (ceremonial chambers) adjacent to the cliffs or on the valley floor.

View of Frijoles Valley from a sandstone alcove where the ruins of a ceremonial Kiva were located. Inset at right is a NPS diagram of the layout of the kiva.

Box elder with developing fruits.

I continued hiking up Frijoles Canyon beyond the archaeological attractions into the Bandelier Wilderness. Frijoles Creek, a very narrow creek, ran with cool water. The valley from the visitors center up into the wilderness was well forested, mainly by ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa; needles in bunches of three) and box elder, a broadleaf tree that produces winged samara fruits like maples. There were other tree species too including gambel oak (their lobed leaves  are shaped like the valley oaks that I am used to in California), Douglas fir, narrow-leaf cottonwood, and maybe species of Salix and Tamarix. 

The valley had a number of blooming species of plants too including a lovely shrub (western chokecherry, Prunus virginiana). Each plant had numerous inflorescences several inches long with dozens of fragrant white flowers. Another very attractive species growing in forest areas was a member of the pea family (golden pea, Thermopsis rhombifolia), having spikes of yellow-flowers (suggesting a species of lupine), but leaves with three main leaflets (unlike other lupines that I am familiar with where there are typically many leaflets). In the more open grasslands, an attractive aster, with golden and red ray flowers could be found.

Reference

Blackwell LR. 2006. Great Basin Wildflowers. The Globe Perquot Press, Guilford, CN

The very fragrant and beautiful flowers of Prunus virginiana.

Frijoles Creek.

Left: Ruins of a village built at the base of the cliff wall. The parallel series of holes in the sandstone cliff are where wooden beams used to extend over the buildings. Right: Natural sandstone sculpture and valley ruins.

Mesa Verde

Mesa Verde National Park preserves the pit dwellings, cliff houses, petroglyphs, and other structures of the Ancestral Pueblo people who inhabited the area from about 600 CE to 1300 CE. From the northern entrance to the park in southwestern Colorado, one ascends towards the highest point of the park and then gradually descends traveling southward into one of several valleys where the Ancestral Pueblo lived.

Spruce House. This area has been closed due to the hazards of rock falls. Here the Ancestral Pueblo built a village in a well-sheltered alcove in the sandstone cliffs. 

Spruce canyon with Yucca baccata in the foreground.

The park was different from my expectations prior to the visit, mainly in terms of vegetation and topography. I had pictured cliff dwellings set in steep mountains covered with green forests and lingering snow at this time of year. Rather, the mesa environment was fairly dry with more sparse vegetation and just a bit of snow in places. The snow-covered peaks of Colorado and eastern Utah could be seen in the distance, however.

A one mile hike from Spruce Tree House takes one to a small collection of petroglyphs carved into the vertical face of light-colored sandstone rock. The trail also affords pretty remarkable views of the canyons that cut the mesa at the south end of the park.

The cliff houses were the most interesting feature of the park in my view. These structures were made of sandstone blocks with mortar, and set in the vertical faces or alcoves of sandstone cliffs. One tower was 4-storied. Some of the dwelling locations seemed pretty inaccessible from either the top of the mesa or the valleys below. These areas possibly afforded protection from the elements or from hostile neighbors. The dwellings were apparently abandoned by the population of the area abruptly about 700 years ago but the cause isn’t well understood. 

Square Tower House.

Reference

Patraw PM. 1977. Flowers of the Southwest mesas. Southwest Parks and Monuments Association, Globe, AZ.

Sunset over eastern Utah.

Sunset from "Geologic Outlook".

A grand view at Canyonlands

Southwest of Arches in Utah is Canyonlands National Park, a part of the Colorado Plateau centered on the meeting point of the Colorado and Green Rivers. The landscape of this area is dominated by the deep valleys forged over eons of time by the rivers. I spent only a few hours in the park, exploring a small part of “Island in the Sky”, one of several major sections of the park.

Fisheye view of the canyon formed by the Green River.

Candlestick Tower in the Green River Valley.

At the southern tip of Island in the Sky, the meandering Colorado River flowing from the northeast meets the meandering Green River flowing from the north. A short trail leads out along the edge of the mesa presenting tremendous views of the deep canyons in a panoramic view from the southeast to the west. The canyons are immense in size and spectacular in their topographic variety.

From atop the mesa, the first “level” of the canyons consists of a drop of over a thousand feet into wide expansive valleys. From there, there are canyons that descend further until finally one reaches deeper sinuous gorges. The rivers are so deep despite their massive erosional footprint that they cannot be seen from the high mesas above.

On the Green River side there are a few reddish flat-topped buttes that stand out distinctly like crumbling Grecian buildings on the landscape. On the Colorado side, the deeply lobed gorge is decorated with a scattering of white-topped columns that reach up to the level of the upper basin. I think these would technically be called “hoodoos”. All of these shapes and colors are mesmerizing and one feels like soaring above to take it all in.

Junction Butte and the canyonlands around the confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers.

Reference

NPS. Canyonlands National Park map.

Columns within Monument Basin in the Colorado
River canyon.

Fisheye view of the Colorado River Canyon with Monument Basin at left.

The living world of Arches

Small Gambel Oak (Quercus gambelii) at right with Yucca (lower left).

Cliffrose (Cowania mexicana), a shrub, at left in bloom and the showy Oenothera cespitosa at right. The large flowers lie close to the ground with relatively small foliage beneath.

Vibrant magenta flowers of hedgehog cactus, Echinocereus ?malanacanthus.
I only observed one blooming plant in the park at an overlook to Delicate Arch.

Paintbrushes did not seem to be particularly common. These flowers were seen
in the Devil's Garden.

Ephedra is a common plant in the park. The photo at right shows a close up of male flowers.

An identified pea (Fabaceae) in the Fiery Furnace. I believe I only saw
about two of these plants.

A complex biological soil crust at the Fiery Furnace. These crusts consist of
various microorganisms including cyanobacteria and take a long time to
form. Due to their ecological importance, the Park Service is concerned
about their damage. I saw well-developed crusts like this one in the Fiery Furnace
where access is more limited.

Lichens on the sandstone that makes up the side of Broken Arch.

Lizards were common in the park and usually allowed one to get relatively close
for a photograph. Unfortunately I did not see a leopard lizard which I think have
very a striking pattern of spots.

One of my favorite discoveries was finding animal tracks. These two sets of tracks were in soft sand near Sans Dune Arch. 

Two more sets of tracks from the Fiery Furnace. The ones at left are from a bird, while I'd like to image those at right are from a cat?

Pinyon, Pinus edulis. Along with junipers these are the largest
woody plants in Arches.

Yucca angustissima at the Devil's Garden. Two flower spikes
are developing. 

References

Blackwell LR. 2006. Great Basin Wildflowers. The Globe Perquot Press, Guilford, CN

Little EL. 1979. Forest trees of the United States and Canada, and how to identify them. Dover Publications Inc., New York

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