Trickster Rocks

Spirits of the Southwest

There are legends in the Southwest about rock formations that entice you to climb them, even if you physically can’t or shouldn’t do it. I’ve encountered this more than once.

My friend and I were vacationing in the remote area of Escalante, Utah. The land is starkly beautiful, with a vast rocky terrain. Driving in to Escalante on Scenic Byway 12, the view shifts every few miles. From wide open vistas to majestic mountains, red rocks to sandstone, the colors and shapes of the landscape are ever-changing.

In Escalante, our hotel was a small, charming adobe style inn. The inn is situated on private land that includes towering rock walls that at one time were home to the Anasazi or Ancient Ones from A.D. 200-A.D. 1300. They were thought to be the ancestors of the modern Pueblo Indians.

After we checked into our room, we decided to explore the immediate area on foot. On the surrounding land, there are many ancient rock art sites. Pottery shards left behind by the native cultures are strewn across the property. We walked away from the inn for about half an hour and then decided to split up for a bit. We agreed to meet in about 15 minutes in a certain spot.

I started walking alone down a canyon path surrounded by tall sandstone walls. Suddenly a strong wind started up out of nowhere. I thought this was odd, because high wind was not in the weather forecast. After a few minutes the wind stopped as abruptly as it started. Then, from high above me, I heard the distinct sound of several women singing and laughing in a language I didn’t recognize. The sound of their voices echoed through the canyon. It felt as if the women were laughing at me. I stopped and scanned the rocks above me, but no one was in sight. This is private property, and no one else was staying at the inn but us. The singing and laughing stopped right about the time my friend was due to meet up with me.

He joined me, and I asked him if he’d heard anything, he said “No, nothing.” And he didn’t experience the wind either. Directly in front of us was a craggy rock cliff. He pointed and declared, “I’m going to climb to the top of that.” He’s a strong hiker, but the steep rock face required technical rock-climbing skills. The Anasazi used, ropes, ladders, plus finger and toeholds notched into the rock to scale the cliffs. They scaled the rock by using their fingers and toes in the small niches carved into the stone. This was incredibly dangerous, but it’s how they protected themselves from invaders.

As we stood looking up, he kept insisting he could do it, which is completely out of character for him. He’s normally very cautious and would never do such a thing. It was as if the cliff was daring him to try and climb it. I stood there and argued with him a long time before he finally agreed not to try it. It was hard work convincing him it was a bad idea. He kept insisting he could do it. We finally headed back to the inn, without further incident. The whole thing was strange and unnerving.

Many years before this, I had a similar experience in Sedona, Arizona. Sedona is about two hours north of Phoenix and is known for its incredible red rocks. The first time I went there, I thought, this must be what Mars looks like. Stunning red cliffs seem to burst out of nowhere as you approach the town from the highway.

A famous rock in Sedona, called Bell Rock, is a place the locals call The Trickster. Legend has it, people are lured by an unknown force to climb to the top without intending to. Often, they get stuck up there and can’t get back down. It happened to me once.

I was living in Phoenix and had started dating a guy who lived there. He invited me to drive up to Sedona to explore the area and maybe do some light hiking. He was fit and capable, so I felt he would be a good hiking companion. We decided to try Bell Rock first, which is a popular spot. As we stood at the base of the rock looking up, he said, “Let’s climb up and see how far we can get.”

This was before I knew about REI and hiking gear. I had on street shoes, not hiking shoes, and stupidly decided to follow him up. We scrambled and clawed our way up to the top, not even looking down as we ascended. Once we made it to the top, we sat and enjoyed the view. And then realized, we had no idea how we managed to get up there and had no clue how to get back down. The rock face was smooth slick rock in areas with nothing to grip onto. I began to panic, as I’m deathly afraid of heights and realized our mistake.

After I calmed down, we decided the only way to get down was get into a sitting position and slide down very carefully. It’s a miracle we didn’t fall, as the climb to the top is 547 feet. The progress was slow, but we managed to make it to the base without injury. I still wonder how and why I climbed that rock. Maybe the trickster was at play here.