Once upon a time, just outside the village of Mexican Hat in Utah, there lived a monster. This monster was covered in wild, shaggy fur with vibrant hues of blue and green. It was a sight to behold, and the villagers were both fascinated and terrified by its presence.
One day, the monster decided to visit the village. It lumbered through the streets, its fur swaying in the breeze. The villagers watched in awe as it made its way to the rock formation known as Mexican Hat.
The monster climbed up onto the rock and stood there, surveying the village below. It let out a mighty roar, and the villagers trembled in fear. But then, something strange happened. The monster began to sing.
Its voice was deep and rich, and it sang a song of love and peace. The villagers listened, entranced by the beautiful melody. And as the song ended, the monster turned and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of warmth and happiness.
From that day on, the villagers spoke of the monster with reverence and admiration. They told stories of its kindness and its beautiful singing voice. And they knew that even though it looked fearsome, it was a gentle creature at heart.
A short 30 minute drive from Monument Valley is rock formation named Mexican Hat. There’s also a village named Mexican Hat, but there’s not much to mention there, its census population in 2010 was 31 souls. Mexican Hat’s official population in 2020? Zero, nada, zippo, a big goose egg. Not sure what the story is there, but the city became – “Move along nothing to see here!” Could it be the homes all became Airbnb’s?
Travelling through the area in 2022, girl and I didn’t see anyone, but I must confess we were looking up at the rock formation. At least it’s still there. Mexican Hat (the rock but not “The Rock” if you know what I mean – apologies to Dwayne Johnson) is a famed landmark along US 163. It rises east of the highway above the west bank of the San Juan River. I’m told it’s a popular tourist attraction and has frequently been noted on lists of unusual places and/or unusual place names.
I admit to wondering about that. Is it proper to call a rock formation that looks like a sombrero “Mexican Rock”? Is it racist? I know they renamed “Negro Bill Canyon” outside of Moab something like five or six years ago. I hiked there something around thirty years ago, and I’ll say it’s a picturesque little canyon whether it’s named Grandstaff Canyon or Negro Bill Canyon.
There’s a lot to do at Mexican Hat rock, but there’s not a lot for the casual tourist, if that makes any sense. The San Juan River is a stones throw away, and there is a boat launch right there. That assumes you have appropriate watercraft to launch, which I did not. There are paid/organized groups that boat and raft the San Juan through this section of river. There’s no whitewater here, so reminiscent of Glen Canyon, you can float at the river’s languid pace should you choose. Of course you need to plan ahead to have booked an outfitter for rafting this section of the San Juan. I had not.
The Goosenecks of the San Juan are just downstream from Mexican Hat, perhaps the most perfect example of an “entrenched meander” I’ve ever seen. The river runs through five miles of graceful curves back on itself, to cover a single mile as the crow flies. That’s got to be a wonderful thing for… but… Er, um, uh, ah, well, I didn’t exactly go visit the goosenecks, or Utah’s Gooseneck State Park. It was just a few short minutes down the road from Mexican Hat. But, it had been a long day at Monument Valley, and after taking a few moments for Mexican Hat, everyone was just too tired to do anything but get back to Cortez where we were lodging.
People climb Mexican Hat rock too, I’ve seen illustrations of the routes they take. I guess folks will climb most anything in the world because “it’s there”. I used to climb a little, so I understand that mentality to a certain extent. Still, there are landmarks that are considered fragile, and I’m surprised Mexican Hat isn’t on that list. It is a very transient feature.
In a world where everything is eventually transient, Mexican Hat will truly be gone in a blink of an eye. The sixty-foot diameter of erosion resistant caprock made of Cedar Mesa Sandstone balances quite precariously on a small, easily eroded base of siltstone and shale. Pick your cliche, “it’s only a matter of time”, “gone in the blink of an eye”, “here today, gone tomorrow”, they are all 100% true. This stone’s balancing act could end tomorrow.
