You have to climb up some stone steps to get into the shelter area and the first thing you notice is how much cooler it is up there than it is down in the floor of the canyon.
I don't know what it means and neither did the guide.
The pictographs are obviously very faded and most of them are difficult to see much less figure out what they mean. There's some modern graffiti mixed in with the pictographs because this place hasn't always been a state Park. 100 years ago when this was a working ranch the Cowboys were free to come in here and do whatever they wanted to so they liked to write their names on the walls to show they had been here. One man's graffiti is another man's art.
This guy could write so well I thought it was stenciled but it was written by hand.
Your guess is as good as mine
The butcher rock
I think this rock was one of the more interesting things to me, it's about 5 feet across and was where the Indians meals would be prepared. game animals would be butchered and cleaned here, and thousands of years of animal protein and fat gives the top of the rock a shiny polished look.
Getting down into the canyon was a leisurely stroll with frequent stops for our guide to show us a plant that the Indians ate or tell a story about the area. But getting back out was a lot harder. The guide just released us all and told us to go out the way we came in and he would stay in the canyon and answer any questions anyone had and be the last one out. Only one or two people stayed behind, there's always someone who won't quit talking, and the rest of us headed for home.
The canyon walls appeared to be a lot steeper coming out than they were going in. And with no stories to listen to their was no reason to Stop other than to rest. I started the climb up the canyon behind one other person. She was a skinny bird like woman who looked about my age but walked like she was on springs. She never stopped to take a break the whole way up so by God I wasn't going to stop either.
She beat me to the top of the canyon by at least 50 feet which made me feel kind of bad until I figured out that she either must've been an Olympic canyon climber and had years of training and several metals to her credit to have beaten me like that. Or she must have looked back, saw me, and thought she was being chased by a grubby, smelly, unshaven, homeless, wino.......... I get that a lot !