Time Literacy in Dirty Devil Canyon by Hannah O’Keefe

I’m sitting on the terrace of ancient rock, looking at the vast expanse of land that I’ve come to know over the last 10 days. Days have passed by in kairos, qualitative by moments in the canyon. Each breath I take holds its own moment and paints a picture, one of landscape and thought. I meditate, aware of the scale of my breath in the wind and hold on to the current painting, hoping to never forget. When I open my eyes, it takes time to adjust to the scale of the canyon – a new picture is painted. The illuminating ridges of the Dirty Devil Canyon in the morning begin the tale of a thousand momentous skies in this place that is momentarily timeless.

As my peers and I first descended into the canyon, we were strangers, greeted by rockslides caused by erosion and the evidence of weathering tiring the walls. This harsh terrain was a front for the soft sands and hidden stories. Most things you see on the surface of this region are spiked and rough but that is to hide the true delicacy of this place – the sensitive wildlife and peaceful relations within the complex ecosystem. At first, Dirty Devil played tricks on us, granted the name, various unpredictable encounters left me humbled. Sinking in quicksand, then taking a mud bath, enduring wind that made the river shiver, then praying for a gust on a hot hike. These trials of nature, humility, observation, and resilience brought me closer to my peers and furthered my curiosity to what the canyon has and can teach me.

During the day, we learned of the canyon’s history, reading and distinguishing climates dating back to the Paleozoic era. The character of desert varnish, tophony, channel lenses, and sedimentary makeup define each rock unit and conclude their depositions. I found myself mesmerized by the image each layer held with its character of fossils, lithics, pictographs, and minerals – which break the boundaries of time in my perception. Looking at the grandeur of the canyon as we walked further down each day, I grasped at the depth of time these records hold as the law of superposition implies our walking is into older rocks from the younger ones. Soon, the youngest Navajo layer was out of view as we traversed the river bed, meeting new, old, rock layers.

The more familiar I became with my surroundings, the better I was able to read deep the canyon walls. I found fine crossbeds like fine print and watched faults split the earth from Kayenta to Wingate and Chinle layers. The leisure of looking at these rocks as deep time, the more I quickly lost time, transfixed by the mystery and infinite knowledge gained from just observation and acknowledgment. Same as I became familiar with my peers, the days got shorter with joy and compassion for the canyon. We were soon looking into the stone late evening, watching and awaiting the colors shift slowly as the golden light fixes for night. Above that, the finite sky sets reluctantly in pink. Like a rebellious child wanting to stay up late and join the fun. As the interface of deep time manifests in the sky in the form of stars, I’m left with thoughts and gratitude for the day. From here, the crickets take the chorus until the scheduled dawn.