El Malpais, Session 1

This has been the roughest survey I've ever done, by far.  I knew that the project in El Malpais would be very different from what I'm used to, and I knew that we'd be hiking on lava flows... but until I got out there, I don't think I really understood just how different it is.  This was pretty brutal.

(See that black stuff?  It's lava.  All lava.)

Our survey area was determined primarily by proximity of previously-unrecorded areas to an important great house site.  Our goal was to survey this area and document other archaeological features in the area and to determine their potential association to the great house.  As it turns out, the previously-unrecorded area of land is composed almost entirely of lava flow surfaces.  (Gee, I can't imagine why no one has wanted to walk transects over this stuff before!)

It shouldn't be too surprising that there aren't really any habitation sites on this stuff, so the vast majority of features that we were finding consisted of rock cairns and bridges, which were all linked to a system of trails across the lava.  Some of the trails probably cross the entire lava flow and come out on the other side, whereas some of the trails appear to lead to specific places on the landscape, such as caves or certain ridgetop shrines.  We spent one day attempting to run straight transects over the lava, but quickly decided that our time would be better spent simply finding a trail and following it as far as possible.  So we started with a cairn, and looked for the next cairn.  Find cairn, look for bridge.  Find bridge, look for next bridge and/or cairn.  So on and so forth.  Every now and then we would find pottery along the trails, but mostly it was just rocks... rocks everywhere.

(For scale... some of those Juniper bushes were as tall as I am.)

For a full week, we chased rock cairns and bridges, climbed up and down ridges, jumped over crevices, skirted around collapsed lava tubes, hopped over unstable rocks, and ripped our boots to shreds on the sharp and jagged rocks.  It was harsh hiking, and our feet felt the wrath of the lava.

(I'm not sure if this will work or not, but I took a video while we were hiking... to give you an idea of how crappy this surface is for "hiking".)

Our second session starts later this week.  There should be a bit less lava-hiking, and a bit more site-mapping (of normal sites which are located on non-lava rocks... sandstone never looked so good!).  Which means that I will probably get the chance to spend more time playing with pretty pottery and less time trying not to fall on my face.  Not that I'd complain if I had to spend another 8 days hiking across the lava fields... it's bizarrely beautiful, and definitely a unique experience, and quite the workout!

AND it's October... which in New Mexico, is almost like a real autumnal season!

Fieldwork!

Aside from my two weeks out at Mule Creek early in the summer, it's been quite a while since I've gotten to really do any fun fieldwork.  Part of my hope for this year away from school was to find some interesting projects to work on, which would preferably involve getting dirty by way of either hiking and/or excavating.  I'm happy to report that my schedule for the next year has already been shaping up quite nicely, and I have some survey fieldwork scheduled for this and next month, as well as guaranteed excavation in the spring and working on a field school next summer.  I'm pretty excited about how things have fallen into place so soon.

Tomorrow I am heading up to Grants, New Mexico for a bit of survey.  I'll be working in the El Malpais National Monument, which is a really bizzare-yet-beautiful area of "badland" south of Grants.  The entire area of El Malpais is basically covered by a rugged lava flow, which has created caves and tunnels in the rock, and is sure to be some tough hiking.  The project I've been hired for is a block survey of 1000 acres, and we'll work eight 10-hour days starting on Monday, and then I'll go back again in October and work another 8 day session.  I'm enthused to work in this area, as it's gorgeous scenery and there are really amazing prehistoric sites all over the place (with pretty pottery!).  They're even putting us up in a decent hotel with complimentary breakfast!  Very posh by most archaeological standards.

Considering that we're still seeing temps of 105 here in Tucson, I'm pretty happy to get over to NM for a while.  Of course, I'm also happy to be getting paid to hike for ten hours a day and to find neat stuff.  But the latter point should probably go without saying.

Kayaking the San Juan

I fell a little bit in love with southern Utah this past weekend.  Gorgeous red rocks, fantastic archaeology, beautiful weather, a solidly-flowing river, and some fantastic company all led to a wonderful few days.  Josh, Liz, Justin and I kayaked the San Juan River from Bluff, Utah down to Mexican Hat, Utah.  We camped two nights on the river, drank lots of red wine, got really muddy, and had a great time.

The San Juan is a pretty mellow river (on the section that we were on, anyway).  Our three-day trip only covered about 26 miles on the river, and most of that was spent simply floating at a leisurely pace and enjoying the scenery.  We stopped at a few archaeological sites (We saw the famous Butler Wash petroglyph panel!  So cool!) along the way, and were able to see quite a few petroglyphs and cliff dwellings from our kayaks.  At one point we got to see a few bighorn sheep hanging out on the rocky terraces above us (though we never did see the big cat who left footprints around our campsite).  Our first night, we camped on a wide sand bar on a bend in the river, and the second night we set up camp on top of a sandstone shelf which backed up to the red walls of the canyon.  It was beautiful.  And the sky was so dark and filled with stars- it was spectacular.  We could see the Milky Way as we sat around our campfire and cooked dinner.

There were only three short sections of the river which had rapids, all of which we passed through on the second day.  Josh and I managed to over-steer one of the rapids and turn ourselves sideways, which promptly flipped our kayak and sent us downriver.  Luckily, we had done a great job of tying down all of our gear, so we lost only our map book.  Two water bottles and a bag of wine (yes, we had a water bladder filled with wine) were knocked loose and got away from us, but Josh managed to swim downriver and save them.  I tell you, my boy's got his priorities straight... stay on shore and try to warm up and get your heartrate down after being thrown off your kayak and struggling to pull everything back to shore, or jump back in the cold and muddy river to save the wine?  He didn't even think twice.

I would absolutely go back and do this same trip again- it was a blast.  I think this could easily work as a two-day trip, and if you pushed it you could probably make the 26 miles all in one day.  That being said, our pace and timing seemed just about perfect, and aside from the water being too muddy to really want to swim in, I have zero complaints about anything.  Everything about this weekend was awesome.  Even the drive up to Utah was beautiful and interesting (we drove directly through Monument Valley).  At Mexican Hat, where we pulled out of the water, there's a little pizza restaurant at the top of the hill which we happily and hungrily visited as soon as we had everything packed up in the truck.  We were muddy and smelly, and nobody even looked at us twice.  It was wonderful.

And of course, there was red wine in a nalgene:

Saguaro Labor Day 8-miler

I hate running.  The only thing I enjoy about running is the way I feel after I stop running.  My body is finally getting used to the act of running, and I can definitely run much farther now than I could a year ago... but I'm dreadfully slow, I get bored, and it's just not very much fun for me.  I'd much rather be riding my bicycle, traveling further distances and going at much higher speeds.  Despite all of this, I am signed up to run a half-marathon in October which goes straight up the highway on Mt. Lemmon.  In other words, I'm paying money to wake up before sunrise, and run 13.1 miles uphill at high elevations, and probably be miserable for multiple hours.  I can't really explain the thought process that led to that decision.


So I'm scheduled to run this race in October, and have been trying to psyche myself up to really start training so that my life will be a little bit easier come race day.  Given how much I loathe running, it should go without saying that my training has been seriously lacking.  I don't run often enough, and when I do run, I never run for long or far enough.  So what do I do?  Josh and I decided yesterday that we were going to participate in the annual Labor Day run at Saguaro National Park, which is an 8-mile race around the paved loop road in the park- which is incredibly hilly and has no shade whatsoever.  This way, I have to pay for an entry to the race (meaning I'm not likely to quit before I get to the end because I'd be wasting my money), I have hundreds of people around me also running (subconscious pressure not to royally suck and/or come in last), and hey, I get a tshirt out of the deal too.  


Oh, and did I mention that this course is hilly?  

I went into this race with no expectations or goals other than to get through it. I knew I would be slow, and I knew that I would have to walk quite a bit.  I decided not to carry anything with me because there were water stations on the course every 2 miles, and I figured that that would be plenty of hydration along the way.

We ran off with the pack when the gun sounded and I was immediately passed by everyone around me, and continued to be passed by countless runners for the next few miles. I think I maybe passed two or three people at one of the aid stations. Aside from being slightly put off by the fact that I was running but still being passed by everyone, I was feeling good. I ran every uphill and never stopped running until I got to the base of the big hill at about mile 3.5, then started walking to get up the climb, feeling pretty good about being almost halfway done with this mess. 

About midway up the hill to the water station, I started to feel really hot and lightheaded. It hit me really fast out of nowhere and I almost felt like I couldn't stand up anymore. I briefly stopped twice to put my hands on my knees and try to cool down, but there was no shade anywhere and the sun just felt like it was hitting me in the head with a hammer. I knew the water station was close, so I forced myself to keep walking, but MAN it was rough. As soon as I got to the water station, I flopped down to the ground and sat on my butt... a park ranger came over and brought me some water and a cup of Xood, asked me how I was doing, checked my pupils to make sure I wasn't dying or anything, and told me that they could have somebody come to pick me up if I decided not to continue. I insisted that I felt good, my legs felt good, I just needed to make my head cooperate with me. It was so frustrating to sit there and watch people come up the hill and pass me. After drinking about 5 cups of water and throwing 3 more on my face/head/back, I decided to give it another go. Mr. Park Ranger told me that he was radioing my number to the next station and that they'd be watching for me, just in case. I probably lost almost 10 minutes between staggering up the hill and sitting at the water station. 

I left the station walking, with a full cup of water in my hand. I walked almost the next mile, sipping on my water and trying to stay as cool as possible. Finally around mile 5 I was able to pick up my pace and start jogging again. By this point, a lot of people had slowed down and started walking the course so I was actually able to pass a good portion of the people who had passed by me at the water station. I felt surprisingly decent, and was careful to walk most of the uphills so as not to get too hot again, and definitely walked the last two water stations and poured lots of ice water on myself. The rest of the course was pretty uneventful, I was just trying to stay consistent and get through it. I was able to pick up my pace and pass about 5 people in the last few hundred yards, so despite being almost at the very back of the pack, I came into the finish feeling strong.


My time was 1 hour, 49 minutes, 48 seconds.  I was number 631 out of 660.  In other words, I was really damn slow and pretty damn close to coming in last.  Usually I think I'd be sort of pissed about this, but I'm okay with it for this one.  Considering that I haven't run much lately, and have only ever run this distance once before, and I'm not used to running hills... I'm not too upset with how I did. The fact that I'm not very sore right now probably means that I could have pushed myself harder, but considering my issues with the heat, I'm happy just to have pulled through and finished.  


The moral of this story is that I need to carry more water with me.  And run more in general.  But I'm pretty sure Mt Lemmon is going to suck no matter what.