Recapture, Rattlesnakes, and Rock Writing

“I’m going down there,” my hubby said, pointing at a deep, rock-strewn hole beside the river bluffs. “You can stay here if you want.”
I had no desire to investigate the hole.
“Something smells bad,” I observed. We’d already wandered by several rank cow carcasses. However, this scent was different, one I couldn’t identify.
Below us, in the cavity, a slab of sandstone leaned against the cliff, and I knew Ted wanted to see if there were any more inscriptions or petroglyphs. Beside me, Kenidee, our little Schnauzer, panted in the 70-degree spring heat, so as my hubby started down into the hole, I pulled out her water bottle and dish.
It was April 17, 2023, and after a busy morning at home, we decided to explore Recapture Wash Canyon, not far from the San Juan River, to look for rock writing.
For 1,000 years or more, people had found the cliffs irresistible writing tablets, leaving their art or signatures on the sandstone faces, and we’d already found petroglyphs and historic inscriptions.
I’d just set down the dish when I heard Ted call, “There’s a snake!”
His voice wasn’t urgent or panicky, but I hurried over to peer down into the hole. Ted had scooted back up the rocks a bit, but I could see his boot print in the dust next to the snake. Ted focused his camera as it lifted its tail and rattled.
“It’s just a little one,” my hubby said, and I knew he still wanted to see what images might be on the rock it was guarding.
“Little ones have a lot of venom,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve read about them.” I didn’t add that I’d heard they could be just as lethal as their parents.
As Ted hesitated, I said, “I can’t carry you out of here.”
He reluctantly clambered back up to stand beside me. “There should be more,” he said, and it’s true that sometimes hundreds of rattlesnakes share a den, but we only saw one which uncurled from its defensive position and slithered toward where my hubby had stood moments before. It wasn’t until later I learned that rattlers emit a peculiar, cucumber-like odor.
We’d started our search for the historical inscriptions near the mouth of Recapture.
After we crossed the wash, we found some of the pioneers’ signatures: John H. Pace, April 17, 1880; B. F. Redd, April 17, 1891; J. H. Wood, November 13, 1891; and Lorenzo Martinez,1893.
Who were these men, and what kind of lives did they lead? Curiosity later led me to research their names.
According to Edith Ann Pace Prince on the Hole in the Rock Foundation, Bluff Fort Visitor Center website, John Hardison Pace, born November 1, 1856, and his wife, Pauline Bryner Pace, born December 2, 1857, were part of the Hole in the Rock Expedition which arrived in the Bluff area on April 6, 1880.
He carved his name on the cliff just 11 days after their arrival. However, Bluff, with its periodic floods, proved a difficult place to raise a growing family, and Pauline became homesick.
After five years, when church authorities told them they’d fulfilled their mission and could either go or stay, they moved to Price to be near family members.
They lived the rest of their lives there, contributing much to that community’s growth.
Benjamin Franklin Redd was born in New Harmony in 1872 and traveled to Bluff with his parents. He etched his name on the rock, not far from J. H. Pace’s signature, exactly 11 years later. After he grew up and moved to Blanding, he help construct many of the original buildings in our community. He died in 1952.
Joseph Henry Wood was the son of Samuel Wood and midwife, Josephine Catherine Chatterley Wood, known to everyone as Aunt Jody. In his autobiography, also posted on the Bluff Visitor Center website, he says, “I was seven years old when we first arrived in Bluff [1882] and remained with the family until I was of age, working on the farm and range, and attending school.”
Probably while he was out chasing cattle, he carved his name on a cliff. Once he “was of age,” he attended BYU, served as a mule packer in the Spanish American War, and fulfilled a mission in the Northern States. After an active, varied, and service-oriented life in Bluff, Monticello, and Salt Lake City, he died at age 67 from bronchial pneumonia.
Lorenzo Martinez remains a mystery, but the cross carved above his name reveals his religious orientation to life.
As we continued to explore, we found more petroglyphs; steps chiseled into the rocks; images of horses and a Model T; and pioneer names, some incised over the ancient rock art.
Was it just a strange coincidence that we explored the area on April 17, 2023, 143 years after J. H. Pace engraved his name in the rock or 132 years after B. F. Redd etched his?
Probably, but it connected us more strongly to all who had wandered down the corridor of Recapture Canyon during the last thousand years.
And the diamondback? A snake is a multi-sided symbol of danger, healing, and transformation, and it made me wonder if in those 1,000 years we’ve made progress in reverencing all life and each other more.