As fall of 2025 was creeping in, some friends extended an invite to go on a group climbing trip to Indian Creek. For the uninitiated, Indian Creek is a premier climbing destination in South East Utah just outside of Canyonlands National Park. The area is known for its endless supply of crack climbing in the Windgate sandstone formation. Despite the remote location and lack of services, climbers flock to Indian Creek every spring and fall to jam their hands into this vast vertical sanctuary.
Given that all of the cliffs in the region are comprised of soft sedimentary rock, climbing on wet rock is fiercely frowned upon. Breaking rock becomes a risk for the climbers, and it could adversely alter a route forever. A heavy rainstorm had rolled in as I was driving up from New Mexico. While it was a bummer to know we would have to skip climbing for a day or two, I was happy to have trail running as a fall back activity. Camping about 10 minutes from the Needles District of Canyonlands meant there was no shortage of adventure nearby.
22 November 2025
I awoke in my van to a damp, chilly morning in the creek. Only two others in our group, Paul and Emily, along with Paul’s two school age children, had arrived in the night. Paul had climbed at Indian Creek several times in the past. He confirmed my suspicion that climbing was off the table for a while after the previous day’s rain. Wrangling a couple kids, Paul and Emily told me to not feel obligated to hang around while we waited for the rest of our group to show up. Thanks to my prior experience in The Needles, I knew just how to spend the day.
After review a trail map and talking with the park service rangers, I decided on a trail I had never done before in the Needles, a 10 mile round trip slick rock romp to Peekaboo Pictograph. I set off around 11:30 AM, planning on running a casual pace to fill the afternoon with epic desert scenery.
Less than a quarter of a mile from the parking lot, the trail goes over a small sandstone mesa. The top layer of rock is relatively flat. I say “relatively” because over time, the rock has eroded to form shallow basins where water collects, at least when there is enough water to collect. After reading “The Secret Knowledge of Water” by Craig Childs a few years ago, I became irrationally excited to see a field of water pockets on this little mesa. The water pockets did not disappoint.
I did not need drinking water, I had just started my run. No, thirst for water was not the driver of my excitement. Rather, it was the prospect of seeing shrimp. I slowly scanned the water pockets along the cairned route. Most of the puddles were about 1 to 2 feet across and devoid of anything interesting… At last, the largest water pocket, over 10 feet wide, was teeming with life!
I sat and admired the tiny fairy shrimp, tadpole shrimp, and snails that called this puddle home. Surely your thinking, “This is the desert right? Those puddles must dry out??” You would be right. The shrimp also dry out and die, but their eggs persist. Tadpole shrimp eggs must dry out and be rehydrated in order to hatch successfully. The eggs can stay in a state of suspended animation for up to 20 years. They may blow in the wind, find new water pockets, and hatch with the next rain, far from where they were laid.
Tadpole shrimp are found back in the fossil record, at least back to the time of the dinosaurs. This adaptation, to not only survive complete desiccation, but to require it for reproduction, has almost certainly allowed this species to outlive several mass extinction events over the last 100 million years. Having this 3 eyed shrimp stare back at me carried me back to a prehistoric eon.
What was I doing? Oh yes, running! Thanks for going on this shrimpy side quest with me. Back on the move, I figured I would see plenty more water pockets and death defying shrimp along the way. I crossed a mile or so of sandy grasslands and was soon following cairns again as I made my way up and down slickrock ledges. With my late start and unplanned shrimp detour, I stopped for lunch just a few miles in, perched on a sandstone rib between two minor canyons.
I sat and took in the view. When was the last time you felt truly alone? I had passed a few people nearby on the trail, but to gaze upon such an inhospitable landscape and not see a soul… Not hear a sound… It’s both incredibly liberating and anxiety inducing. For a moment, I was unbound from the human world, but completely screwed if I need help. Better play it safe out here.
The trail continued contouring on the flat-ish slickrock layer that hung below the cliffs and fins and above the canyons. There was definitely at least one no fall zone, a sloped slab I had to traverse across. A slip here would have sent me 30-50 feet down into the canyon below. Thankfully, that level of exposure was not the theme. I was truly having a blast running on the slickrock. It brought me back to my childhood days of running ahead of my parents on similar Moab area hikes.
Through rock windows, in and out of canyons, and down a narrow slot with a ladder, I was finally closing in on the pictographs. I had actually been here before in May of 2016 on what was my first ever backpacking trip. I hiked in jeans, used my 70L pack for a two night trip, and brought my bulky synthetic 20°F sleeping bag, which was way too warm for late May (face -> palm). It was a mental trip to think about how far I’ve come in the last 10 years since the last time I was here, both in physical distance and in gaining wisdom outdoors.
Peekaboo Pictograph has several interesting features: hand prints, a series of dots in a line, two rotund figures, and, if you look carefully, you can see the ghostly outlines of older pictographs which were painted over. I’ve seen plenty of archeological sites in the southwest by now, but it still never ceases to amaze me. Just like our water pocket shrimp, I wonder, “How…?”
My route was an out-and-back, and it was time to turn back. I had a clear view of the La Sal mountains, painted white with a fresh coat of snow. They stand in stark contrast to the burnt red and orange sandstone.
I was also scanning every water pocket I passed by. There was only one water pocket with life that day. I felt very fortunate to have spotted it! I stopped and stared with fascination for a few more minutes at the end of my run.
This was an awesome adventure to kick off Creeksgiving! At 10 miles and 1,400 feet of vert, this was a satisfying trail run with tons of interesting sights along the way.
23 November 2025
The rest of the group had arrived, filling in our large group campsite. We took it slow in the morning, but eventually decided to attempt climbing. The weather was still a bit fickle, rain looked imminent. We drove to look at one of the crags and a light drizzle started. That was enough to convince everyone that climbing was out of the question for the day. The group decided to venture into The Needles for another slick rock trail run.
Our route started at the Needles Campground, heading over to Elephant Canyon, and looping back down Wooden Shoe Canyon. My legs were a little tired from running the day before, but I was kind of excited to try back-to-back 10+ mile days. I was also quite eager to show off the shrimp I had found to everyone.
As we were setting off, I couldn’t help but notice the crew consisted of six women and myself. Paul stayed back with his kids, so I was left to crash the women’s running retreat. With such a big group and complex terrain to traverse, the pace was mellow as we chatted, scrambled, and took lots of pictures.
After some easy desert plains, we were soon cruising across sandstone. Shelves, steps, and slots – we were all entertained as we navigated this strange landscape. While there are wide open views, you never really know where the trail is going. I am quite used to having a good sense of where I am and where I need to go in the mountains, but here in canyon country, that spatial awareness goes out the window. Fins and ridges block your line of sight. You just have to trust trampled trails and cairns will continue to lead you the right way.
Sure enough, I made a route finding error. I sprinted ahead to prepare and eat my standard tuna wrap lunch, while the gals were just planning to eat bars on the move. In my haste, I missed the turn up Elephant Canyon. As I was eating my wrap, my smug content was dashed my friend, Vanessa, inform me of my mistake… I blew past the turn by a quarter mile. Not too far, but just enough to be annoying. I scarfed down my food and sprinted back to catch up to everyone else.
As we climbed up Elephant Canyon, the views got better and better. We were surrounded by towering vertical walls. These canyons feel both cozy and imposing. Awe inspiring and frightening. We were a little more than half way through our run as we climbed an installed ladder to cross the pass into Wooden Shoe Canyon. A whole new world was now visible ahead of us.
Some of the best slick rock running was found in Wooden Shoe Canyon. We cruised across a long shelf, then started dropping down into the wash below. The last couple miles were back on sandy plains and juniper forest making for an easy finish. Our route took us right by the water pocket of life, where we found Paul and his kids studying the shrimp. We all sat and did the same for half an hour. Everyone was equally blown away by this living puddle.
While trail running was not the true objective of this trip, I was very content with these consecutive adventures. I enjoyed the quiet solitude of my solo run, and the shared experience on the group run. It was just pure Type 1 fun in a place I hold dear. With clear weather in the forecast, we were psyched to give our legs a rest and finally go climbing the next day…