I paused at the intersection of a well-used dirt road and a trackless, narrow ageway that seemed to lead nowhere.
The path less traveled was calling me on.
Standing at the southern edge of the Carrizo Badlands in Anza-Borrego State Park, a twisted geological maze created by eons of erosion from wind, water and intense environmental forces was beckoning me to enter.
Greek mythology tells us about the labyrinth, an elaborate structure built by the legendary Daedalus to hold a mythical half man and half bull creature known as the Minotaur.
While my path ahead into the maze of Arroyo Hueso would likely be an adventure of discovery, I had no expectations of encountering the Minotaur.
But there is so much more to be found here, including long-extinct, prehistoric creatures from the distant past.
Hueso is a Spanish word for bone, which seems to be perfect for the badlands, an area known for the fossilized bones of creatures that no longer exist.
There are four places in the voids of Anza-Borrego State Park known as badlands, including Coyote, Borrego, Fish Creek-Vallecito and Carrizo Badlands.
While there are some geological differences to each area, these barren landscapes are a collective treasure trove of ancient remains ranging from marine fossils dating back 6 million years to extinct giant mammals such as elephant-like gomphotheres perhaps 9 million years old, mammoths, a bird with a 17-foot wingspan, saber-toothed cats, bears, horses, llamas and zebras.
Imagine a tortoise the size of a bathtub, or huge camels known as Gigantocamelus?
Broken logs of petrified wood litter the ground in some places, like stone ghosts of a long-vanished forest.
As you wander this barren landscape, that it is protected. Photograph what you find but leave it behind.
This is a place that once was.
This once was a sub-marine environment covered by a larger Gulf of California known as the Imperial Sea, extending north to the modern city of Palm Springs. As waters receded, the remains of coral, oysters, sea turtles, walrus and shorebirds were left behind to view today as fossils.
It once was a verdant grassland with trees and marshes that provided a lush habitat for the creatures of long ago.
Now, laid bare by the slowly ticking clock of geological time and shifting climate cycles, travelers today can view a twisted, tilted and layered earth record dating back millions of years.
Much of this history is not in a language easily understood, but scientists learn more as old secrets unfold, opening another door of understanding.
Time spent wandering in this intriguing place can be filled with discovery. It can also lead to inward discovery as you hike through narrow, powdery ages that seem to absorb outside noises, opening the mind to deep reflection.
Enjoying the silence while hiking with a buddy, we came to a sandstone wall that seemed to block further travel. There was a small hole that vanished into darkness at the base of the wall.
To the east of Arroyo Hueso, another winding badland canyon called Arroyo Tapiado is popular with cave explorers because of more than two dozen mud caves scattered in many of the side canyons.
These caves are created by flowing water that have carved the soft sandstone formations creating narrow slot canyons, underground tunnels or winding caves.
Was this just a shallow pocket, or a longer subterranean ageway?
We had to know.
Crawling through the tiny opening, it soon widened into a tall slot canyon open at the top, but not much more than shoulder width.
A few yards later, it became another slanting, enclosed tunnel until opening again after a few hundred feet.
Cellphone flashlights helped us see some of the fascinating layers of exposed sandstone. Some layers were fine, like silt, others contained small rocks, and some had larger stones, perhaps carried by intense flood events.
These are precious volumes of earth history thankfully preserved within the state park, to be read by scientists who study these things.
Emerging from our cave exploration, the shadows of evening were beginning to fill the winding path back to our vehicle.
We had not walked far, but in this curdled landscape it’s not about distance or destination. It’s about the journey.
The badlands are not about trails. You can hike anywhere in this naked landscape. It’s about ageways, grand vistas, an exposed geology to make the mind wonder, and silence, wonderful silence.
The badlands of Anza-Borrego are a tangle of paths less traveled leading to secrets unanswered and always leaving you with a desire to discover more.
Who knows, I could be wrong about the Minotaur.
A note to readers
My last column, “There’s no place like Mt. Hoo for the holidays,” triggered nearly two dozen emails from readers wondering where Mt. Hoo is located and if it was someplace they could visit.
Many had spent considerable time doing Internet and Google Earth searches, looking for Mt. Hoo.
Sadly, it’s not a place you will find on the map.
Mt. Hoo is the name we have given our home, located on a small mountain near Escondido, surrounded mostly by native vegetation and open space. The gentle hoots of great-horned owls spawned the name.
Over the years we have created a sanctuary for our wildlife neighbors by providing food, water and cover and the birds, coyotes, raccoons, bobcats, snails, insects, snakes and lizards have been frequent topics of my column.
We have no fences, and our landscaping blends into the native vegetation, allowing wildlife guests to move seamlessly to bird feeders, gardens filled with insects and snails, and several water fountains.
We like to think of Mt. Hoo as a resort for wildlife.
Cowan is a freelance columnist. Email [email protected] or visit erniesoutdoors.blogspot.com.
