They lied to us. The Park Service indicated that the change in elevation to get into and out of Horseshoe Canyon was 750 feet.
The altimeter on my GPS (thanks kids) clearly showed it to be over 1,000 feet. It took us an hour to climb down. Once down, it was another 3 miles to the Great Gallery panel, sometimes called, stupidly, the Holy Ghost Panel. It was not a difficult canyon trail; in fact, quite beautiful,
if a bit sandy.
We were not alone. Several other groups were co-adventuring, including an elderly couple that was having trouble with the heat and a couple vacationing from Arkansas that was not. Another couple was headed by a female lawyer whose son works for the National Park Service. A few others were young adults. Some of these people had actually camped overnight at the head of the canyon, rather than getting up at 5:00 in the morning to drive overland, as we did.
I mention this because it is refreshing to know that there are people seriously interested in America's ancient heritage. Not all of them were well informed, but they all engaged in lively conversations with us about what they were witnessing. I was even pleased to see that the National Park Service provided information and binoculars in a box for the use of visitors to the panels. Very trusting.
There is no way to describe the plethora of images we studied. We entered the canyon about 9:00 a.m. and did not return until close to dark.
There were actually 3 major Barrier Canyon pictograph sites before we got to the Great Gallery. The first one we would have missed if we had not had a special guidebook.
It was behind some bushes, unmarked, and up about 50 feet. Among the strange figures was the birdlike anthropomorph with "rake" wings.
The second site was a little more obvious, since the trail led right beside it.
More strange, abstract anthropomorphs and the usual serpents.
The third site was in a high alcove
and not as impressive.
I think this may have been living quarters.
The Great Gallery, however, took our breath away. Its location was dramatic, facing a large open space that may have been used ceremonially.
It extended for at least 100 feet
and invited visitors to sit and meditate. It was as if the spirits depicted were watching us. not as if we were gawking at them.
We were uninvited guests. The figures were "ghostly" and knowingly silent.
Who or what were they thinking? Doing?
It was like being confronted by a choir of ancient shamans or rock spirits.
Each one different; each one regal.
For the most part, no arms or appendages. Just a stare and a surround of spirit figures. The serpents were not merely at the side, but on the robes of the figures (or inside them, as if X-rayed?).
The eyes were haunting.
But do not think that Barrier Canyon artists could not draw realistic human figures. They could and did--as in the case of this miniature scene.
But the spiritual, not the literal, was the subject of these representations. Even the usual mountain sheep were miniature in stature.
Nothing distracted from the powerful gaze and mysterious veiling of the main figures in the panel.
We studied and reflected at the Great Gallery for two hours before realizing that we had to climb out of the canyon before dusk. The trail up the side of the canyon was not extremely dangerous, but you would not want to trip. We passed the elderly couple and made sure they had enough water, since the heat was obviously bothersome for them. As we reached the top, the fellow from Arkansas that we had earlier conversed with came running down the canyon. He wanted to be sure the couple made it to the top. Arkansas hero. His son waited impatiently at the rim. Only then did the full measure of the day's events dawn on us. We have thought about that couple quite a bit since.
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