Desert icons collapse as southwestern US gets pummeled with rain and flooding

Become an Independent member to bookmark this article Want to bookmark your favourite articles and stories to read or reference later? Start your Independent Membership today. Join today Already a member? Log in There are stretches of high desert in northwestern New Mexico where Mother Nature has sculpted otherworldly forms using wind, rain and the passage of time. Hefty planks of rock defy gravity as they balance atop spindly pedestals of clay, while some columns of sandstone take on the appearance of lace, elaborately eroded by the seasons.

Tour guide Kialo Winters shares this piece of his homeland on the edge of the Ah-Shi-Sle-Pah Wilderness with visitors regularly. On a recent Friday afternoon, the founder of Navajo Tours USA rounded a bend and found one of the area's most famous features had collapsed. The Alien Throne — or Tsé Bináká Níyol as it's known in his language — was no more. His heart dropped. “It was surreal,” he told The Associated Press. “I had to sort of just pause.

A lot of things ran through my head.” The Alien Throne and the nearby King of Wings formation collapsed within weeks of each other, toppled by the very forces of nature that created them. Back-to-back storms destroy homes and hoodoos The southwestern U.S. has endured major rounds of storms over recent weeks, with rain falling on ground already soaked from an especially wet fall. Parts of New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona have watched rivers crest and floodwaters course through usually dry washes, destroying homes, further saturating the soil and eroding the landscape.

The water is receding and cleanup is underway, but officials estimate the damage could stretch into the hundreds of millions of dollars. Winters still is concerned for relatives on the Navajo Nation , where many dirt roads became impassable or were washed away altogether by what he described as a series of massive storm fronts. Experts have estimated that more than 20 trillion gallons (75.7 trillion liters) of rain fell across the Four Corners states and Nevada during late October and early November as tropical moisture was funneled into the region.

Condolences shared after the features collapse In early October, the demise of the King of Wings began circulating on social media. Visitors documented the large slab of rock on the ground near the mound of clay on which it once stood. It's not entirely clear when the Alien Throne came down, as poor road conditions kept Winters from visiting for a couple weeks. He had not seen any other posts about the feature's status until he rounded that corner Oct. 30 and saw it in pieces.

Social media posts ranged from those who were thankful they were able to see the formations and immortalize them with photographs to those lamenting that they never had the chance. Condolences also were sprinkled in with debates about physics and the fragility of natural wonders. “Gravity. It’s not just a good idea … it’s the law,” one joked. These waypoints won't be forgotten For Winters and other Native Americans from the region, they’re more than just rock formations.

They have served as waypoints, guiding ancestors along trade routes for thousands of years, and as connecting threads in stories handed down through generations. “They are culturally relevant to our identity and our stories,” he said, adding that their legacies will be carried on through photographs, illustrations and in the stories people share about their time spent in this stretch of desert. He called on people to let the sites “rest.”

So no climbing on what remains, and certainly don't take any pieces home. It's far off the beaten path down a rutted, washboard dirt road. But it's worth it, said Alan Studt of Parma, Ohio, who made his first visit in 2019 and then again last April as part of a 50-day road trip. In looking back through his earlier photographs, he could see the formations were weathering. There were new holes forming in the throne and cracks along the wing's base, making it no surprise they would not last forever.

Studt spent hours exploring and photographing the hills and washes during this last trip. He described being drawn in each time he saw a new set of spires in the distance, marveling at the petrified wood along the way and the rainbow of colors in the soils. “It is really so magical to be out there,” he said.