ABQjournal: Petrified Forest National Park Shelters 2 Wilderness Areas By Michael Richie, For the Journal
Straddling Interstate 40, between Gallup and Holbrook, Ariz., the Petrified Forest National Park stretches north and south along a 27-mile scenic drive connecting numerous overlooks. Viewed through tinted-glass while speeding across the desert in the midday sun, the harsh landscape can appear uninviting. It’s the gentle, early-morning and evening light that makes the desert come alive.
Since the park is open only from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. and there are no campgrounds, wilderness backpacking remains the only way to experience these magical times of day in this magical place.
Few visitors to this ‘drive-thru’ national park realize that the two adjoining wilderness areas established in 1971 are the oldest in the national park system. The 43,020-acre Painted Desert Wilderness and 7,240-acre Rainbow Forest Wilderness lie north and southeast, respectively, from the scenic access route.
Neither area has developed trails or any surface water, and both feature interesting badland formations and petrified logs. If you backpack in and stay the night, you can probably have either one all to yourself.
Petrified Forest National Park (National Park Service)
The following is a great article on these two wilderness areas. mjh
The sun is setting in the Painted Desert Wilderness. As we stride through bowl-like badlands, our shadows lengthen before us. The last light of day slants across the bare soil, enhancing its texture. Each wrinkle, crevice, crack and protrusion is framed in inky black. I’m reminded of a Dali-esque dreamscape populated with strange shapes that promise hidden meaning from afar but up close become totally abstract.
As the sun eases completely below the horizon, the shadows suddenly vanish and an amazing color spectrum becomes apparent in the banded encircling hills.
We climb over a small saddle on the bowl’s rim and drop down into another large pocket called the Black Forest. Huge petrified logs lie in confused heaps or in broken lines, some more than 50 feet long. Threading our way past these twilight-shrouded, 225 million-year-old monarchs— preserved with such astonishing detail that bark, knot holes and rot clumps appear entirely lifelike— brings an eerie feeling of walking right into the past.
Our overnight backpacking trip into the Painted Desert Wilderness, within Petrified Forest National Park, is far surpassing our expectations. Most visitors see the park from their cars or by taking short walks on paved paths to marked excursion points. It’s rarely chosen as an adventure travel destination. That’s too bad, but understandable.
Morning becomes it
Straddling Interstate 40, between Gallup and Holbrook, Ariz., the park stretches north and south along a 27-mile scenic drive connecting numerous overlooks. Viewed through tinted-glass while speeding across the desert in the midday sun, the harsh landscape can appear uninviting. It’s the gentle, early-morning and evening light that makes the desert come alive.
Since the park is open only from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. and there are no campgrounds, wilderness backpacking remains the only way to experience these magical times of day in this magical place.
Few visitors to this “drive-thru” national park realize that the two adjoining wilderness areas established in 1971 are the oldest in the national park system. The 43,020-acre Painted Desert Wilderness and 7,240-acre Rainbow Forest Wilderness lie north and southeast, respectively, from the scenic access route.
Neither area has developed trails or any surface water, and both feature interesting badland formations and petrified logs. If you backpack in and stay the night, you can probably have either one all to yourself.
The main attraction to camping overnight in the diminutive Rainbow Forest Wilderness is being able to take your time and explore in peace and quiet the largest, most colorful petrified wood concentration on the planet.
It’s difficult to decide which aspect of these fallen monarchs is most impressive.
Their sheer size astounds: Many have fluted bases five feet in circumference. Their abundance amazes: Massive trunks lie in logjams as deep as 300 feet in places.
These conifers thrived in lush forests during the late Triassic period, back when the first dinosaurs were beginning to rule the Earth. The fossilization process has preserved incredible detail and transformed the wood into giant gemstones. Add in swirls and patterns left by impurities and you have pieces that beg to be picked up and carried home to adorn a mantle. But collecting wood in the park is a serious federal offense, and combating it is the reason for the restricted park hours and absence of car camping.
Thirsty landscape
The Painted Desert Wilderness protects huge, desolate, multihued badlands that arc across the park’s northern tip. Most visitors experience it from eight mesa-top overlooks. This perspective scarcely hints at the size and mazelike intricacy of the formations— much less the subtle rock colors, petrified wood outcroppings, Indian ruins and petroglyph galleries hidden in the Painted Desert’s mysterious heart.
Even the few day-hikers who descend the steep trail to Lithodendron Wash don’t get much farther than Onyx Bridge, a single petrified log undercut by water to form a 20-feet arch. The blazing sun, barren moonscapes and lack of marked routes send most would-be explorers scurrying back to water and shade.
But water is definitely the biggest limiting factor to backcountry exploration. My hiking partner and I each carried 2 gallons just for an overnight trip.
After quickly finding Onyx Bridge, we set up base camp under an overhanging cliff and set off to reconnoiter the countryside as a prime for the following day’s much longer hike. Our ever-widening forays bring familiarity to the confusing network of valleys, bowls and dry washes dissecting the knobby hills and buttes.
The Black Forest inspires awe, as does the brilliant red, orange and purple Georgia O’Keeffe color scheme gracing the rounded, raw-earth sculptures. But we slowly begin to focus on the more delicate small-scale formations. Sunset finds us on a hilltop enjoying the cool breeze and dusky, glare-free light as we eyeball possible routes for tomorrow’s four-mile trek north to Chinde Mesa.
Up before dawn, loaded with water and camera gear, we set out cross-country, mentally cataloging landmarks for the return trip. Trial and error determine the details of our route; gawking at petrified logs and one geologic surprise after another slows our progress.
Just when we think we’ve seen every erosion phenomenon possible, something new appears— like a gallery filled with perfectly round, paper-thin, chocolate-colored sandstone disks atop supporting pedestals.
Drawn steadily forward by one discovery after another, we finally end up against Chinde Mesa’s variegated, 300-feet-high walls. We scramble upward to check out the view.
No wonder they call it the Painted Desert. Sipping precious, tepid water, I offer up a silent thanks for my wide-brimmed hat, wipe the sweat from my eyes and think about the trip back and how it would probably take a lifetime to see all the wondrous works in this wild wing of nature’s art gallery.