It was a beautiful day in July of 2020. Already, the day wasn’t turning out the way we had planned.
It was brilliantly sunny, a stark contrast to the projected weather report of cool temperatures and partly cloudy skies. I wanted a scattering of cumulus clouds overhead to soften the blazing sun, because I knew the hike we were taking today had little shade. Somewhere I had read that this wasn’t a hike to take in the middle of summer, yet here I was: packing my daypack with water, sunscreen, more water, and snacks for a hike in the middle of summer to a place with reportedly little shade.
My husband and I had read about an amethyst mine not too far away, and we were on an adventure to find it. From the little information I could find about the mine, there was a short hike from the road up to an area below the private property where one could dig around in the wash and possibly come up with some fluorite and amethyst. I hoped that the rains from the previous day might have been enough to uncover some treasures in the wash. With daypacks and rock hammers, we headed down the road to Unaweep Canyon.
Unaweep Canyon, located in Mesa County, Colorado, is a geologic wonder that cannot be explained in one paragraph. There are no Cliff Notes for a geologic anomaly that still have scholars questioning their findings. An Internet search to clues of Unaweep’s origins brings up several hypothesis, and no one can claim, without a doubt, that they are correct. With all its unique qualities and stunning beauty, a drive through Unaweep Canyon would be a satisfying day drive, even if we came up empty handed in our amethyst search.
The information I had obtained pointed to a pullout on Highway 141 “with a big cottonwood tree”, where a one-mile hike started up a rutted dirt road. Tire tracks indicated that ATVs had come up the road, but I wasn’t sure about private property and the need for permission to drive the road. We were content to use our feet and enjoy the sunny day.
And sunny it was. No rain had touched this area during the previous day’s rains, and the ground was baking. At least, contrary to the report I had read, there was some shade. We leapfrogged from one patch of shade under a pinyon tree to another, following the road to some unknown destination that we hoped was somewhat apparent.
The terrain changed from dark, Precambrian rock to familiar sandstone as we walked though a geological museum. A sign indicated that we were leaving public lands, and immediately “No Trespassing” signs appeared along the side of the road. We stayed on the road, except for a much-needed stop in a patch of shade that paid no attention to property boundaries. Soon, another sign informed us that we were back on public lands, and our wandering continued.
The road forked, and the lesser-used right road wore another “No Trespassing” sign. The left fork crossed a dry wash, crisscrossed with undulating bands of dark rock and glittering mica and quartz. We noticed several depressions in the creekbed, apparently places where others had dug for their unseen treasures of amethyst and fluorite. It looked like a good place for us to stop and try our luck, as well.
Finding a shady spot in the creek bed was a challenge, and the one I found was obviously a popular spot with others, as indicated by the shallow craters in the sand and chipped rock nearby. My desire to get out of the sun overrode my desire to find the mother lode, so I plopped down in the wash and made myself comfortable.
I scooped up handfuls of sand and let them trickle through my fingers. The tactile experience, coupled with the shade and a slight breeze, was a joyful flashback to a childhood of playing in sandpiles on the beach. A tiny fleck of green caught my eye, and I happily pulled a small piece of fluorite out of the sand pile. It wasn’t much, maybe insignificant to many, but it was something. I got excited. I went back to digging.
I have no idea how long we played in the sand of that little wash, but the shade I had squandered when I first arrived had moved. My husband took advantage of his patch of shade by taking a nap in the soft sand of the creek bed. My little pile of stones now included two tiny pieces of amethyst, several small pieces of fluorite, and a lot of stones that just caught my eye because they were pretty.
The walk back down to the car was no less broiler-pan hot than the walk up. The warm water in our water bottles gave us incentive to walk a little faster down to our car, knowing that there was a bottle of cold water waiting for us. Mental notes were made along the way to come here on a cooler occasion in order to spend more time deciphering the geology and taking in the views.
I was pretty excited about my little collection of stones. Like many of our adventures, my husband and I had little expectations other than to have fun and explore a new place. I don’t think my assorted stones would even raise the eyebrow of a gemstone collector, and I don’t know what others have collected here, but for our first time here, it was enough.
