Danger at the Dinosaur Stomping Grounds

by Judy Young

  Shoop held the camera up. Buck was certain all he was looking at was rock. Then he suddenly called out, “Oh, there! Look! It’s so big!”

  “You’re right. It’s a Camarasaurus leg bone,” Jessica said, stepping away from the sign that told about the fossil. “Now you know what you’re looking for. There are tons of fossils from several different kinds of dinosaurs all along this whole cliff.”

  Shoop filmed Buck finding fossil after fossil. Finally Buck turned to face the camera without pointing to a fossil.

  “I’ve found ribs, legs, shoulder blades, hip bones, and vertebrae from huge plant-eating sauropods like the Camarasaurus, as well as from meat-eating theropods, like the ferocious Allosaurus. But look around.” Buck held his arm out away from the cliff face toward the canyon. Shoop picked up on Buck’s motion and panned the landscape opposite them.

  “There are no gates, no fences, no guards. Nothing to stop people from coming here and looking at fossils of some of the biggest creatures to ever roam Earth,” Buck continued. “They aren’t in glass cases or behind ropes in a museum to be seen only from a distance. Here, they are inches from you.”

  Buck pointed for the camera, his finger just an inch away from a huge Camptosaurus femur bone.

  “But with that privilege comes responsibility,” Buck continued. “When you visit sites like these, respect and protect. Take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints. Let these treasures stay as they’ve been for millions of years so another kid can stand here and see this a million years from now.”

  “Well said!” Jessica exclaimed when the camera’s light went out.

  Dad patted Buck on the back. “That was perfect, son, but I’m really worried.”

  “Why?” Buck asked, alarmed.

  “You’re going to take over my job as script writer!” Dad said, smiling.

  As they returned to the Green Beast and drove away, Jessica told them about the other two places she would be taking them.

  “Both sites have dinosaur tracks, made when they walked through mud that eventually turned into solid rock,” Jessica said. “But unlike fossilized bones, which are the remains of dead animals, the prints were made when the animals were alive and active. We can learn a lot from the tracks, like how fast they moved, how tall they were, and whether or not they dragged their tails.”

  They parked at the head of a short trail. Ahead, they could see a boardwalk encircling a large area of stone.

  “Feel free to say what you want in front of the camera,” Dad said to Jessica. “You’re our expert consultant, you know.”

  As Dad spoke to Jessica, Buck raced ahead. Shoop turned on the camera and followed after him.

  “Holy moly! Look at the size of those tracks!” Buck exclaimed, forgetting about the scripts he had practiced.

  “That one with three toes? It’s huge! It must be at least twenty inches long!” “Those are theropod tracks,” Jessica said, moving to stand beside Buck. “We’re not sure what kind of dinosaur that particular one was, but theropods walked on two legs, and that one would have been big and bloodthirsty.”

  “Look at these!” Buck said, pointing to even bigger tracks. “There’s one there, and another there, and then one way over there. You can actually see how it lumbered right across here.”

  “Those more rounded tracks are from a sauropod,” Jessica said. “Sauropods walked on four legs.”

  “It didn’t take that big guy long to cover the territory,” Buck said. “In one step it went way farther than I am tall!”

  When Shoop had gotten all the shots he wanted, they drove back to Jessica’s SUV. Buck and Toni went with Jessica, the Green Beast following her back down the dirt road and along a highway. It wasn’t long before they turned onto another dirt road.

  “This seems like more of an arroyo than a road,” Buck commented when, after a few miles, the hard-packed dirt ended and they started driving up what looked like a sandy creek bed.

  “It actually is,” Jessica said. “If it rains, this wash turns into a rushing river. Even the Green Beast couldn’t drive through it until the waters receded. I always keep my eye out on the weather when I come here, or I might not be able to get back out for a while.”

  “Nothing but blue skies right now,” Buck said.

  “Yes, here,” Jessica agreed, “but this area can get flash floods that start from a thunderstorm miles away. I think we’re okay today, though. Just never set up a camp in a dry arroyo bed. You could be washed away even if it’s not raining where you are.”

  They drove up the arroyo for about a quarter of a mile. Then, turning out of it, they were once again on the solid dirt road. It wasn’t long before both vehicles pulled into a dusty parking area. The long ridge of the Klondike Bluffs loomed up in front of them, stretching for miles in either direction.

  “I’m starving,” Buck called out as soon as he opened the SUV’s door.

  “Me too,” Toni said through the open window. “I’m not hauling this black case another step until I’ve had something to eat.”

  They all crowded into the Green Beast. As Dad and Shoop made sandwiches, Toni helped Jessica fold and wrap her hair. Buck stretched out on the couch and almost instantly fell fast asleep.

  TAKE 13:

  “THREE-TOED THEROPODS WERE THE ANCIENT ANCESTORS OF BIRDS, AND THEIR TRACKS LOOK LIKE GIGANTIC BIRD PRINTS. CAN YOU IMAGINE BIG AL TROMPING AROUND YOUR BIRD FEEDER? TERRIFYING!”

  A huge Allosaurus was chasing Buck over steep slickrock slopes. Buck tried to outrun it, but a massive wall of red rock rose in front of him, blocking his path. There was only one way to escape. Putting his foot in a small hole and grabbing ahold of a crack, Buck started scaling the cliff, but soon there were no more handholds. The Allosaurus’s gaping mouth with its razor-sharp teeth reached toward his leg. Buck couldn’t move. He was frozen to the side of the slickrock. Then someone was calling his name.

  “Buck!” the voice said. “Buck! Get up!”

  Reaching up for a rescuing hand, Buck shot up off the couch. Confused, he looked around. Dad was standing there, a sandwich in his hand. Shoop sat at the table. Toni and Jessica were nowhere in sight.

  “You must have been having a wicked bad dream, dude,” Shoop said, putting the last bite of a sandwich into his mouth.

  “Here,” Dad said, handing Buck the sandwich. “I thought you needed rest more than food, so I let you sleep through lunch. You can eat as we walk.”

  Buck put the sandwich on the table, went over to the sink, and splashed some water on his face.

  “You awake now?” Dad asked.

  “I guess,” Buck said, still feeling groggy.

  Outside, Jessica and Toni were standing in front of a kiosk. At one end was a map, at the other a sign with big bold letters saying it was illegal to make casts of dinosaur prints.

  “What’s wrong with making a cast?” Toni was asking as Buck, Shoop, and Dad walked up to the kiosk.

  “This rock is sandstone, which is soft and porous,” Jessica explained. “The materials used to make molds can seep into the stone and be difficult or impossible to get out. And sometimes, when the casts are removed, pieces of the tracks break off.”

  “I’ve seen casts at museums, though,” Toni said.

  “When paleontologists make a cast, they take extra care to prepare the track and use special materials that won’t damage it. Your average person doesn’t, though. If casting were allowed, it wouldn’t be long before all the tracks were damaged or destroyed.”

  Only half listening, Buck went over to the map. It was covered with thin tan lines. Thick bold lines in many different colors were also drawn on the map.

  “Have you kids ever seen a topographic map?” Jessica asked as she and the others joined Buck.

  “Yeah,” Toni said. “Buck and I took a map and compass class when we were filming in Alaska. All those thin tan lines are called contour lines, and they tell the elevation. So, if lines are far apart, like they are here on the west side of this
map, it’s pretty flat. But farther east where the lines get closer together, it mean it’s getting higher and would be steeper, too.”

  “And over there,” Buck said, pointing to where the tan contour lines were so close together, they were almost on top of one another, “that would be a cliff.”

  “You’re right,” Jessica said. “That’s the Klondike Bluffs. They run the whole length of the east side of this ridge.”

  “What are all the colored lines?” Toni asked.

  “Those are different trails,” Jessica said. “Each is a different color.”

  “They look like a big, colorful, wobbly ladder,” Buck said. A thick pink line squiggled south, all the way down the west side of the ridge. A blue line went south all the way down the east side of the ridge. Many different-colored lines wiggled from the pink to the blue lines like rungs on a ladder.

  “So, where are we on the map?” Toni asked.

  Jessica pointed to where it said PARKING AREA at the top left corner. The letters TH were written in the small space between the parking area and the beginning of the pink line. “We’re right here,” Jessica said. “The T and the H stand for ‘trailhead.’”

  “Where are we going?” Buck asked.

  “I’ve saved the best for last,” Jessica said. “We’ll start at this trailhead and take the pink trail south going along the base of the ridge. Then we’ll turn east and go up the ridge on this yellow trail.” As she spoke, Jessica’s finger traced the wiggly pink line down the left side of the map. About halfway, when she got to a yellow line, her finger turned right and followed it. It stopped about three-quarters of the way to the blue line. “This is where we want to go,” she added. “Right here.”

  “What’s there?” Buck asked.

  “You’ll see,” Jessica answered, smiling.

  “Wouldn’t it cut out a couple of miles of walking if we drive over to this trailhead?” Shoop said. “We’ve got a lot of equipment to haul.”

  Shoop pointed to a different TH near another parking area farther south of them. A green line started at that trailhead and went due east until it met the pink line. It crossed the pink line and continued due east until it reached the blue line. Just above the green line was the yellow line Jessica had indicated. Although it started at almost the same place where the green and pink lines met, it ran in more of a northeasterly direction and reached the blue line about two inches above where the green line met the blue line.

  “I’m sorry. I’m usually mountain biking, and starting here at the pink trailhead gives me a longer ride,” Jessica said. “I didn’t think about the equipment. Yes, the green trailhead would be a lot closer. We can walk up the green trail to the pink one, turn left on it for just a bit until we get to where the yellow trail starts, and then take it.”

  “So all these lines are mountain bike trails?” Buck asked Jessica.

  “All but the yellow ones,” Jessica said, pointing to the map’s key where it stated that yellow trails were hiking only.

  “Dad, can Toni and I ride our bikes over there?” Buck asked.

  “I don’t know, Buck,” Dad said. “We’ve got a lot to do still.”

  “Please,” Buck pleaded. “We’ll just ride down the pink trail and meet you where the yellow trail starts.”

  “It won’t take any extra time,” Toni joined in. “We’ll probably get there before you.”

  “The trails are well marked,” Jessica told Dad. “There are stripes painted on the rocks about every ten feet and signposts with maps whenever two trails meet. On the maps, happy faces indicate where you are. All they have to do is follow the painted pink stripes. It’s almost impossible to get lost.”

  “Okay,” Dad finally consented. “If it’s okay with Shoop.”

  “Yes!” Buck exclaimed, not even waiting for Shoop’s answer. He raced to the back of the Green Beast, dialed the combination on the lock, and took off the bikes. Toni hurried into the camper and came out with their helmets, her backpack, and a water bottle for Buck. Buck put the bottle in the holder on his bike, and as soon as they strapped on their helmets, they were off.

  “See you there!” Buck called out.

  Not only were there pink stripes showing the way, cairns also marked the route. It wound along the base of the ridge, sometimes taking them up and over smooth rock slabs and around big boulders, sometimes leading them on a sandy path, twisting past junipers and sagebrush. Buck stopped once to take a picture of a bright green lizard with a brown head sunning itself, and Toni raced past him. Buck pushed off and was soon right behind her.

  Ten minutes later they came to a signpost with a map on it. The pink stripes continued straight ahead, but orange stripes started up the hill to their left. Toni stopped and looked at the map. On it was a happy face at the juncture of the pink line and an orange line.

  “We’re not quite there yet,” she said, but Buck went whizzing by.

  “I know,” he called back. “The pink trail meets with the yellow trail at the third junction.”

  Toni hurried after him. It wasn’t long before they passed a second signpost map. At the third, Buck stopped and Toni pulled up alongside him. On the map, the happy face was now beside where the yellow line met the pink one. Buck looked ahead at the painted pink stripes that continued in front of them. As he got off his bike, he looked to the left where yellow stripes were painted. A few feet up the yellow trail was a thin metal post with an icon of two hikers on it. A smear of yellow paint was on the top of the post and HIKERS ONLY was written down the side.

  Buck rolled his bike under some nearby junipers and dropped it to the ground. Toni followed with her bike and kicked down the kickstand.

  “Did you oil your kickstand?” Buck asked as he took off his helmet and tossed it onto the ground near his bike.

  “No, I keep forgetting to,” Toni answered. “It’s not hard to kick it down. It only gets stuck when I try to kick it back up.”

  They sat down on a rock and waited. It wasn’t long before Jessica, Shoop, and Dad came walking up the pink trail from the opposite direction.

  “How far did you guys have to walk?” Toni asked as she took the black case from Shoop and they started up the yellow trail.

  “Not far,” Shoop answered. “It took about thirty minutes from the trailhead, so I’d guess about half a mile.”

  “So it took you about the same amount of time to walk a half mile as it did for us to ride two,” Toni said.

  “That would be about right,” Jessica said.

  “Why do the trails have both painted stripes and cairns?” Buck asked Jessica.

  “The stripes are easier to see, especially when you’re on a bike,” Jessica explained. “But a lot of people hike here in the winter, too. If there’s snow, you can’t see the stripes.”

  They hiked continuously uphill for about an hour and a half. Buck was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to reach their destination when Jessica stopped. They were at the edge of a huge open area of slickrock.

  “Are we lost?” Buck asked, looking around. “I see some cairns, but I don’t see any more yellow stripes.”

  “There aren’t any,” Jessica answered. “This is where they stopped painting them.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see. Just follow the cairns and keep your eyes open,” Jessica said, then turned to Shoop. “Better get that camera ready.”

  Buck walked for another minute or two without seeing anything unusual. He glanced back at the rest of them, but Jessica encouraged him to keep going. He had walked another minute, when suddenly he stopped and looked down at his feet. Leaning over, he closely inspected the ground. Then he stood up and scanned the huge area of rock surrounding him, all the while turning until he’d made a complete circle. The others had stopped about twenty yards behind him. Shoop had the camera up and the red light was on.

  “You won’t believe this! I thought these were potholes, but they’re not. I’m surrounded by dinosaur tracks! Thousands of them!”

/>   Jessica smiled. “Welcome to the Dinosaur Stomping Grounds!”

  TAKE 14:

  “HAVING THE DENSEST CONCENTRATION OF JURASSIC DINOSAUR FOSSILS IN NORTH AMERICA, UTAH’S CLEVELAND-LLOYD DINOSAUR QUARRY WAS THE GRAVESITE FOR FORTY-SIX ALLOSAURUSES.”

  Buck stood in amazement, marveling at all the dinosaur tracks surrounding him. When Shoop turned off the camera, Buck looked at Jessica. “Now I see why they didn’t paint stripes here,” he said. “Is it all right to walk on this?”

  “They allow you to here,” she answered.

  The others now headed toward Buck, their eyes on the ground, staring in wonder at all the three-toed tracks imprinted into the rock. Some were perfect prints; others were layered on top of one another. At the far end of the footprint-covered slickrock, a sign stood facing away from the tracks. Still looking at the dinosaur tracks he was walking over, Buck slowly made his way to the sign. He went around to the front and read it.

  “Good photo op, Shoop,” Buck said.

  “Rolling,” Shoop said, coming up to him.

  “At one time, this was an enormous mudhole with dinosaurs slopping all through it. There are over twenty-three hundred theropod tracks here, all in about two acres! Isn’t it amazing! Look at this one. It’s perfect.” Buck squatted down, held up three fingers, and laid them inside a track. His fingers didn’t even come close to being the same size. Then he put the heel of his boot in the heel of the print. His foot was less than half the size.

  It was a long time before they were ready to leave the stomping grounds. Finally Buck pointed to a cairn uphill from the sign.

  “Where does that go?” he asked.

  “To the bluffs that overlook Salt Valley,” Jessica said. “Come on. It’s a great view.”

  They followed the cairns a half mile uphill until the trail leveled out. Another signpost map was at the top. Beside it, a thin metal marker that said HIKERS ONLY, identical to the one at the bottom of the hiking trail, pointed back toward the stomping grounds.