Natural Bridges near the Bear Ears

Kachina Bridge

 

Sipapu Bridge

Owachomo Bridge

Give the San Juan River credit – it knows how to carve a bridge. Three of the world’s largest natural bridges reside in White and Armstrong canyons. There is evidence of past bridges, now collapsed, as well as Native settlements from the construction heyday of 800-1,000 years ago. 

The difference between natural arches and natural bridges is a matter of size. They’re essentially the same thing, although natural bridges run much larger. 

Owachomo

The Owachomo bridge is thinnest, at 27 feet wide and nine feet thick. It could fall tomorrow or hold steady until the 22nd century. Owachomo, the oldest, longest, and thinnest; Sipapu, the highest and longest in span; and Kachina, the youngest and densest. 

Water still runs beneath Sipapu and Kachina, as evidenced by the trees and shrubbery growing under those bridges. 

Owachomo was formed by floods from two streams, but is no longer on a stream path, with its structure impacted by water from frost and ice. 

The ancient peoples of the Southwest knew this place, and some even lived here. The Horse Collar ruin, the monument’s signature ruin from ancestral Puebloan peoples, is well-preserved and hidden, known for its round structures whose purpose is unknown. 

The national monument has a well-designed road – after the visitor center, cars run along a nine-mile, one-way circular drive on high ground above its canyons, with overlooks and hiking stops for each of the three natural bridges. 

Only the Kachina Bridge is not immediately obvious from the overlook, but anyone staring at the canyon a little more intently can easily pick out the bridge from its surroundings. A difficult hike on an unmaintained trail through the canyon connects all three bridges, but each has its own trail from the canyon rim, plus a connector trail that crosses the high ground above the bridges. 

What the well-signed monument doesn’t tell you that the hardest bridge hike comes first. The Sipapu Bridge has the longest, steepest approach. Haflway down, after two metal staircases and a ladder, I remembered my water bottles were in the car. I consoled myself with the shaded canyon overlook before the steeper descent down to the canyon bottom. I couldn’t go further without risking heat-related illness. That slowed me down at the two subsequent bridges. 

Kachina bridge

Close as I got to Kachina

Canyon walls

Like Sipapu, the Kachina Bridge has a solid structure and feels more of a bridge than an arch. A little forest grows in the gap below the bridge. 

At the Owachomo Bridge, the trail is close, and a ranger even encourage me to go just for the feeling of standing under something carved by nature. This one seemed bore the closest resemblance the Bridge of Khaza-dun from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, with a thin span in the middle perfect for holding off Balrogs. As the thinnest, this one most resembles the arches collected in Arches National Park. I have stood under those cathedrals of stone, so I know the feeling it would bring. 

Instead, I focused on a nearly tame raven moving around the parking area. A Navajo teen visiting with his family inched closer and closer with his camera to where the raven perched. He seemed to have a the right touch. But then as aI walked back to the car, the raven joined me from a few feet away, sitting on a post outside my rental car until I drove out. 

In the miles leading to and from Natural Bridges National Monument, I found myself entranced by a pair of twin buttes atop a mountain. Gradually I realized I fell under the sway of the Bear Ears. 

Within the national monument declared in 2016, there are more than 100,000 archaeological sites, so while it might occupy a mostly deserted region of southeastern Utah, no one can dispute importance to modern tribes. 

It has been a political hot potato, so local non-Native people want mineral exploration on those lands – after the initial monument declaration, a subsequent president reduced the moment’s size by 80 percent, then another president restored its original boundaries. 

While the boundaries might change again as we endure a national selloff of public resources, I can’t look upon those twin buttes and clamor for oil rigs or mines. To scrape away this region’s pristine geography just seems wrong. But too many people don’t see beauty, just dollar signs. The solemn act of being that the Bear Ears perform is not enough. 

As I moved along, the Bear Ears stood silent sentinel, my visit not even a blink during the ages they have overlooked southeastern Utah. 

Bear Ears country