Systems of Horseshoe Canyon by Chloe Brackenbury

Here we are, three days into our backpacking journey, and Horseshoe Canyon decides to welcome us with a spring blizzard!

We crawled out of the cocoons of our sleeping bags to a winter wonderland. Several inches of desert snow had covered the rich red rock with a wet, white blanket. Some of us began to wonder what we had gotten ourselves into as we huddled under a juniper tree shoveling oatmeal into our mouths with frozen fingers. Just a mere day later, the desert sun returned to remind us that any drop of water in the canyon is a blessing. By the end of the week we welcomed the shade and breeze that was once our least desired request. The ever-changing nature of the Colorado Plateau was revealing itself. We were inside the system.

One night, after a warm dinner of backcountry pasta, our group sat to discuss the meaning of systems. A few components necessary for a well-oiled system include adaptability, resilience, and interconnectedness. We began to recognize how system dynamics affect this whole landscape, including our little community. A group of students who trekked through a blizzard before we even knew each other’s hometowns now sit at the end of the canyon planning post-course visits. While our instructors teach us how to steward the land, we slowly learn how to steward one another in a cohesive system.

An adaptive system is one that can change and shift with its environment. It is fluid and responsive. Just last September, a 100-year flood tore its way through Horseshoe Canyon. Debris is still evident with washed up trees and shrubs several feet over our heads. That won’t stop the cottonwood trees. The hardy cottonwood has actually adapted to require the rushing water of a flood to germinate its seeds. We saw proof of this as cottonwoods lined the riverbed with shimmering leaves and deep roots nestled into rock cracks eight months post-flood.

Just like nature, a group of students quickly learn to be adaptable when thrown into a canyon. One night early in the section, my silly LED headlamp died mid-reading. Graciously, my tent mates offered to share their light. A shared light turned into read aloud in the tent which quickly led to full group readings before dinner. Our system was shifting with the needs of the whole.

A system needs resilience as well. This means having a high threshold to bounce back after a disturbance. It’s grounded and adaptable. Someone who represents resilience in nature is the beaver. A beaver spends days creating beautiful dams along a river. He creates ponding and flooding, and redirects water out of the incised channel to all the nearby plants and animals. Beaver activity can mitigate wildfire spread, increase biodiversity, and restore a riverside ecosystem. When a flood, such as the Horseshoe Canyon flood, comes in, a beaver’s work is destroyed.  Luckily his previous works had built up strength within the system so that things can bounce back post-flood. Thanks to Mr. Beaver, the system is resilient.

In an attempt to follow the beaver’s footsteps, we also bounce back. Expectations of a warm desert stroll quickly dwindled amidst that day three blizzard. Despite the challenging – and needless to say, cold – conditions, we marched on. Arriving at our next camp frigid and soaked, we mustered the strength to hang up our clothes to dry and sit around the fire. We all came to the amusing conclusion that THAT was crazy. Resilience for us and the beaver might not always be easy, but eventually the pendulum pauses for a while. The water stops flowing and the snow dries up.

Interconnectedness is also key in a working system. This means all the variables impact one another. The parts work together to make the whole. When the snow trickled into the canyon, the soil guided the water to the reaching roots of Castellija paintbrush flowers. The bright red bloom of the paintbrush entices the hummingbirds to indulge in a snack. The hummingbirds move on to pollinate all the bright flowers increasing plant populations. In turn, the paintbrush stabilizes the soil for that trickling water once again. It is all connected.

Our system was interconnected as well. Every day, each of us had a job. Someone led us on our march, some cooked dinner, some cleaned, and so on. Each task led to the success of the next. The navigator would get us to camp efficiently so the cooks had enough time for dinner. The cleaners made sure everything was ready for the leader in the morning. As the days went on the system shifted and became more efficient and more resilient.

Over these two weeks I have come to notice that the desert has much to teach us. As we learned and observed the systems of the canyon, we learned the systems of ourselves. Not only did we watch the canyon shift around us, but we also became a part of it. The canyon taught me that a socio-ecological system must be observed in all its resilient, adaptive, and interconnected parts. Each of our footsteps, campsites, and sips of water left a mark. The system of the canyon includes our human impact both good and bad. We each have a responsibility to consider our place within that system.