Strange Woman Abroad: Turkmenistan - Koytendag Track Site

[Continued from Grotto of Forty Girls]

After our return from the Grotto and a refreshment break we board the PaintMixer and head to the Koytendag Track Site. The prospector in me could not help but assess the logistics for extended field activities in the region. The valley we drive into is comparatively lush and green, with a readily available water source of a small creek. It is also home to a small village, complete with livestock. Throw in an army tent as a base camp stocked with supplies, the use of a reliable 4WD (or pack animals for a lowered carbon footprint), a local guide and/or interpreter, and add a band of Turkmenistan geology-biology university researchers and students to the palaeontologists and geologists and we would have a fully functioning field expedition. While I appreciate a hot shower and a mattress, give me a tent, a functioning Coleman stove, and a supply of Earl Grey tea and I'll function pretty much anywhere.

A nice vertical surface, just waiting to have dinosaur tracks found on it!

We are greeted by another traditional dance performance. Each performance we've seen has been slightly different. Some focus on interactions between young men and women, some focus on young people learning skills from their elders, and some praise the resources of the region and resulting products: rugs, food, and clothing. 

The young ladies' part of the dance...

...the young men...

...and the married women providing advice.

We are led to the cement stairway constructed for the visit of the country's President to the track site in 2011. After the stairs we hiked a gorgeous trail lined with natural craggy limestone slabs.

Stairway and interpretive signage for the Koytendag Track Site.

The trail up to the Koytendag Track Site. Gorgeous!

The track site is a large exposure: over 25000m2 of a calcareous bedding surface dotted here and there with silty clasts contains long trackways of two ichnogenera of large and medium theropods (Megalosauripus and Therangospodus, respectively.)

Possible tracks of Therangospodus.

Possible track of Megalosauripus.

I tried to find out the names of these three gentlemen, but the language barrier got in the way. They took great effort to show me all the tracks on the surface.

Trackways are always worth getting excited over: trackways are much better than individual footprints because the information needed for describing dinosaur footprint and locomotion features comes from trackways. Individual tracks are only used if that's all you can get.

NOTE: What is an ichnotaxon? Ichnotaxonomy (the study of naming traces) is functionally the same as naming any new fossil. If you find a trackway that looks different than any other tracks described in scientific journals (the journal Ichnos is dedicated to publishing research on traces of anything and everything, from worms to humans), it can be given a unique name. To distinguish a trace name from a physical organism name, the prefix “ichno” is used. So, a new species of dinosaur footprint is not a species but an ichnospecies. New ichnogeneric and ichnospecific names have to be erected following the rules of the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature. Describing a new ichnotaxon from a single footprint is the equivalent of trying to describe a completely new dinosaur from a single bone: it can be done, but you would never stop hoping for the recovery of the rest of the skeleton, and you have to be VERY careful that you’ve examined all other possible explanations for that funky new shape (preservation, age of the animal, ground consistency, non-biologic sources, invertebrate sources, etc.). Back to the journal entry.

The track site was mostly exposed (also for the President's visit), and Federico, the lead researcher on the recent Koytendag palaeontology research, had noticed significant surface erosion even in the short time the new tracks had been exposed. [NOTE: Erosion is the only constant when working with outdoor tracks. You can do a great deal to slow down the rate of erosion of exposed surfaces, but eventually their detail will fade. That’s why detailed documentation of track sites is so important: you can’t save everything.] There is a strip of track site that is still covered with debris, and here is where we find the most pristine of the trackways of Megalosauripus.

Nicely impressed track of ?Megalosauripus from the covered portion of the track surface.

Natural erosion has not been the only enemy of the track site: anthropogenic signs of degradation are scrawled on several areas and even within the margins of a few tracks. No country is immune to this phenomenon. So-and-so loves some person, Buddy was here, and political statements usually make up the bulk of the graffiti: much like erosion, peoples' ignorance will always be a constant on which you can rely. The same degradation defaces track sites in northeast BC, and I’m sure my American and European colleagues can cite similar examples.

A great effort was taken to remove the spray paint from the Koytendag track surface.

Track surface in northeast British Columbia. The message here is quite obvious.

The track site is where interviews start in earnest. The interview style is different from that to which I am familiar. Rather than provide sound bites to a series of questions, I deliver a monologue-style statement on what I feel is the significance of the track site. This is likely due to the need for translation. I am also reminded that I should thank the President and the government for the opportunity to visit the site. I learn through the week this is policy for anyone doing government-related work. I would have done this anyway, as government support for research is something I can get behind.

We spend a few hours at the track site. The site is interesting in of itself, but it also represents the potential for new track site discoveries in the region. Any exposure of this Upper Jurassic deposit should be explored. The rate at which the surface is naturally eroding begs that new sites be found and documented.

All the Expedition members eventually drift down to the reception area at the base of the stairs to the waiting yurt-style tents where lunch was served. This is where my mental capacity begins to drift. I am decidedly not feeling well at this point. I stare at a pear I attempting to eat as though it is the most riveting object on the planet. Don't get me wrong: it was a nice juicy pear, but no piece of fruit should be more interesting than conversations with people who have done international field work. Chris from RSPB is telling a fascinating story about their society’s work in public education on poaching, and he notices my attention wandering to my pear. He jokes about how interesting the local fruits are, and I have to laugh and confess my internal unease. He understands: I’m sure I’m not the first or the last to fall victim to a traveler’s bug.

OK, Dear Readers: this is where you have input on the content of the next post in this series. I promised in my first post that I would keep the TMI content to a bare minimum, and that is a promise I intend to honor. However, the humor potential for the next series of events is high due to the...how shall I say this...embarrassing nature of my developing ailments at this point in the story. Your choice is this:

A) Oh Strange Woman, we don’t need to know that your insides were struck with the majestic force of a foreign unicellular invader. Just skip that part and go on to describing the cool sites!

B) If you can tell it without graphic clinical details, fire away! Thinly veiled hints are more amusing than spelling it out for us. The best humor is subtle.

Which will it be? Cast your votes in the comments section!

Until next time!
Strange Woman.

UPDATE 24-05-2013: Fixed some formatting issues. Oh, and given that the "Privy Bush" turned out to be one of the most viewed posts (#4 of all time to date), I have to say that knowing readers enjoy this brand of what could be considered off-key humor warms my heart. You're all awesome! I drink a toast of Earl Grey to you!

On a serious science note, Federico Fanti and his colleagues have a paper out in the latest issue of the journal Ichnos entitled "Data on two large dinosaur tracksites from the Upper Jurassic of Eastern Turkmenistan (Central Asia). The citation is below, and follow the link here to the page that has a preview of the article (pay-walled, unfortunately.)

Fanti, Contessi, Nigarov, Esenov, 2013. Data on Two Large Dinosaur Tracksites from the Upper Jurassic of Eastern Turkmenistan (Central Asia). Ichnos 20, 54-71.

Strange Woman Abroad: Turkmenistan - Vulture Food

Despite my misadventures from the previous day, I was refreshed and eager to participate in the scheduled canyon hike. The canyon boasts of a lush green ecosystem within the fairly arid landscape of Turkmenistan. I was looking forward to all the birding opportunities I would have.

I was still a bit dehydrated, so I made sure to stock up on bottled water in my CamelPak, and to bring a bandanna to keep the sun off of the back of my neck. I also resolved to take it slow - one great part about birding is that no one expects you to keep up with the crowd when your face is glued to binoculars.

We pulled into the mouth of the canyon and dismounted. Right away we noticed a group of large, soaring birds circling far overhead. Our presence had disturbed a large colony of Griffon Vultures!

When I die, I hope I am eaten by vultures. (Wikipedia.org)

I should probably mention my undying adoration of vultures. I have been fascinated by these carrion eaters ever since I was a child. Growing up in southern BC I saw a great many Turkey Vultures in my rural community. One of my favorite hikes was to the offal dump in the mountains behind the local farm. If I was very quiet, I could sneak up on the Turkey Vultures feasting on the remains of the most recent slaughter. Their appearance is what initially attracted me, but as I learned more about them, the deeper my fascination grew. I tried in vain to convince the adults in my life (it was a small circle, but I tried) that vultures are beautiful birds that deserve respect. Sadly, vultures in Asia are on a frightening decline towards extinction, but thanks to the efforts of organizations such as the RSPB, there is a plan in place to reverse this trend.

I digress. We began our hike up the canyon. Even if I was separated from the group, there was no way I could have become lost: a pipe carrying fresh water ran along the entire length of our trail. It was also leaking in many places (I was told that local people punch holes in the pipe to access the water) so there was also no way I would die of thirst.

You can picture the vultures circling patiently overhead...

It was an extremely hot day. I paused frequently to look at the scenery, and noticed that the Griffon Vultures were still following us after almost a kilometer. One of the UNESCO committee members was hiking with me and Rich, and she and I took an opportunity to use one of the puncture holes in the water pipe to soak our bandannas. As we were bending down, I hear Rich scrambling to get the video camera out. I looked up to see what all the fuss was, and saw the most amazing sight: a Griffon Vulture, on seeing us bend down, had descended into the canyon to investigate the situation. We were being selected by the vultures as one selects a lobster from a tank.

If only I had been carrying any form of food that a vulture would have found palatable, I would have stayed crouched to see if it would have landed: I wouldn't want a vulture to go to all the trouble of landing if it was not going to get a good meal out of it. After we stood up (and made quite a few Monty Python jokes about not being dead yet), our opportunistic Griffon Vulture made a couple more passes and ascended out of the canyon.

This was the highlight of the canyon trip for me. The flora in the cool confines of the canyon was lovely, but my interest in botany was waning with my energy. My body was telling me to give it a rest. I sat out the rest of the hike at one of the many tables set out for our catered lunch. Complete with circling vultures.

One of the several prayer cairns set up along the canyon.

The next day (May 27th) we traveled back via train to Turkmenabat to attend the international conference. I was looking forward to this with some trepidation: no one on the Expedition had any idea what the schedule was for the talks, or how long each speaker had for their talk. We knew there were the plenary speakers (Rich, Federico, and Martin were among those), and regular speakers (my category). We figured that we would get the information when we needed it.

May 28th was the first day of the conference, and the rest of the international and national attendees had arrived in Turkmenabat.

The Expedition and Conference were the big news item in Turkmenistan that week.

Our entourage had swelled to three buses for the conference attendees and several police and security vehicles for escort. We did not stop for one red light the entire time the conference was running. One person counted at least 50 officers stopping traffic We were shuttled from our hotel to one of the national theaters for Day 1 of the Conference.

This was the largest performance we had seen to date.

This performance focused on the national treasures of the country.

EVERYTHING we did was recorded. Our track site interviews were being played over and over on Turkmenistan TV that week.

After the welcome ceremony we were escorted to the main theater. The Expedition Members were ushered into the first two rows. Rich went with me to the front row, but I had noticed something he had not: he was not going to be sitting in the front row. I pointed to the stage, and pointed at his name placard on the stage. He was going to be part of this morning's show.

No pressure. That gentleman in the back is the current President of Turkmenistan. That screen was not used for any of the presentations. It displayed this image for the entire plenary session.

The plenary speakers found out that morning they had 20 minutes to give their presentations, and that had to include translation time. Rich gives very slide-rich presentations: a 30 minute presentation might contain anywhere from 60 - 100 slides. He also has an organic presentation style that often includes many jokes. I do not know how he did it, but he managed to give a great presentation of 60 slides in 17 minutes including translation. I would later that day have cause to perform a similar feat, but at that time I was naively sitting in the front row enjoying the show.

After the plenary session concluded it was time for lunch. We were shuttled to the Hippodrome for a huge banquet lunch.

The Hippodrome. I didn't get to see any of the famous horses of Turkmenistan.

A very touching event happened to me after lunch. When we entered the banquet hall we were greeted by a long line of holy men, whose hands we shook as we passed. These same holy men were also waiting in the line as we left the hall. A few of us felt that it would be very polite if we shook their hands again and say thanks. As I made my way down the line I saw there was a group of elderly ladies in traditional costume waiting at the end. When I reached the end of the line I was instantly surrounded by the ladies, and they all wanted to hug and kiss me. It was very sweet. Their affection reminded me of my Granny, who had past away only two years ago.

By this time the rest of us speakers had figured out when we were to present. I had a major problem: my jump drive containing my presentation was back at the hotel. Another presenter had a similar presentation conundrum: there were images he wanted to add to his presentation. I also wanted to add a few more images. We agreed to be a united front in needing to return to the hotel. We flagged down Dr. Poladov and asked if we could get a ride to the hotel and from the hotel to the theater. We were, and we quickly put the last minute tweaks on our presentations and made it back to the theater with time to spare. I was feeling quite proud of myself for being able to improve my talk on such short notice. That feeling was not going to last.

I get to my session, sit down, and Rich whispers to me "Five minutes."

"Wow," I replied, "I made it back just in time!"

"No," said Rich, "that's how long you have to give your presentation. Including translation." He smiled that smile that said "Now it's your turn."

Five minutes. Oh crap. Where are the Griffon Vultures when you need them?

I had prepared my presentation (challenges in preserving and protecting large intact track surfaces) using the typical international conference formatting: a presentation with images and data that can be delivered in 12 minutes with a couple of minutes for questions. I had (after my sneaky editing session) a grand total of 17 slides.

I sat there with a stunned look on my face. I watched the presenters from Turkmenistan give their talks. Their presentation style was to deliver a monologue with little to no images and sparse (from what I could tell) supporting data.

I am a nervous public speaker. I have given numerous public presentations, several professional talks, and have taught multiple labs, but before every presentation a knot of anxiety tightens in my chest and stomach. I have been presenting for more than a decade, and I think this is a reaction to public speaking that I will always have. This time felt completely different. A surreal calm washed over me. It was a different feeling than not caring, but I felt as though a lot of pressure had been relieved. This was the most relaxed I had ever been for a presentation. I think it was because I knew I had no time whatsoever to say anything ridiculous or make any mistakes. I had to keep my blather on a leash. I even threw in a joke that translated well. At the break I received a lot of compliments on my talk.

I won't go into the 20 minute long closing ceremony speech to the President about the conference and about all the wonderful successes for which the President can take credit (this was the style of official meetings in Turkmenistan: the President receives long and detailed praise for all accomplishments).


That concludes the memorable (for me) parts of my trip to Turkmenistan.
This trip was definitely a cultural experience. Will I ever go back to Turkmenistan for more paleontology related work? I can honestly say I do not know. Dr. Poladov, the Turkmenistan researcher who succeeded in the monumental task of organizing, coordinating, and executing the Expedition and Conference, has not responded to my emails, nor has he responded to the emails of the other paleontologists who I know have tried to contact him. I wish Dr. Poladov all the best: he did a fantastic job coordinating such an event and should be commended. Maybe we will hear from him someday soon.

Strange Woman out.

Strange Woman Abroad: Turkmenistan - The Privy Bush

Hello, Dear Readers! I am back from field work and a conference in China, about which I will post as soon as I wrap up Tales from Turkmenistan. I had difficulty accessing the blog while abroad, so I had to wait until now to continue this tale.

Where did I leave off? Oh, yes! We were leaving the Koytendag track site, had finished lunch, boarded the Paintmixer, and were on our way to Umbar Canyon Waterfall. This is where the bloom falls off the rose of the glamorous life of a paleontologist and the harsh reality sets in - as great as this profession is, it does not offer a +5 immunity to travelers' ailments.

I was feeling quite disturbed in my gastrointestinal system. Every jolt of the Paintmixer send cramps of discomfort coursing through me. All I could think, like some deranged mantra, was "Just make it to the Waterfall, just make it to the Waterfall." There was no washroom on the Paintmixer. If I was going to take care of this, it was going to have to be field-style. In other words, a secluded bush and a roll of TP. Just make it to the Waterfall, just make it to the Waterfall...

The Paintmixer and the entourage of vehicles pulled into parking area for the hike into the Umbar Canyon. "Great," I thought, "all I have to do is wait for the crew to hike up the Canyon, and I'll have the parking area and all those lovely bushes to myself!" I saw a goat trail leading up the hill next to the parking lot - that was my trail.

"Oh, you silly naive Strange Woman", my Practical Brain thought. "You forgot about the rest of the entourage! The wait at the vehicles, don't they? They keep an eye on everyone!"

"Damn! They'll see me hobble off and follow me!" I thought. Rich offered to run interference for me. He'd waylay anyone trying to follow me up the goat trail. You have to love knowing that someone has your back in any situation. I altered my mantra: just make it up the hill, just make it up the hill...

I started to climb the goat trail. I was unwilling to crouch behind rocks because of the scorpions and snakes in the area (I could imagine that death scene: Rich finding me, with my pants unceremoniously gathered around my ankles, keeled over from a scorpion sting on my derriere, and the end of toilet paper flapping in the light breeze like a somber flag of surrender. That would make for, no pun intended, a crappy eulogy.)

With Herculean control I hiked up the trail, found a bush, turned around to make sure the coast is clear...monkey puzzle tree! There I was in plain site of the entire entourage!

"OK Strange Woman," I thought, "you can still do this. Head for the next highest bush." Just make to the next bush, just make it to the next bush...

I made it. I turned around...you're kidding?!? Was there no bush on this accursed hill that was out of sight of the huge mass of people below?!? This had turned into one of those strange Dali-esque dreams where you wander through a hallway or a large room looking for something important and everything is out of perspective and you can see around corners. No? Just me?

Just make it to the next bush, just make it to the next bush...

I barely made it. When I say I barely made it, I mean just barely. Nature was not going to let this call go to voicemail, entourage or no. At this point all I could think was "let them film me and broadcast it over Turkmenistan TV for all I care. Heck, I'll do the voice-over." If anyone did see me in my oh-so-undignified-for-an-international-researcher situation, they paid me no mind. I would have waved had anyone noticed me.

I descend the hill feeling like the bowels had dropped out of my soul. I was so weak and shaky I could barely walk, but I slowly regained my composure as I rejoined Rich. It was a good thing, too, because our hosts saw that I hadn't been to the Waterfall and they were hell-bent on making sure I saw it. I admit, it was a nice waterfall. [No pictures here.]

We make it back to the Paintmixer for our final stop of the day: the captive breeding program for native animals!

Too cute! Kids!

The adult male.

  There were also members of the native fauna that were well past the cute and alive stage.

Why are carnivores always depicted snarling?

I admit I did not take as many pictures here as I would have liked. I was still feeling fairly shaky, and my new mantra was "just make it to camp, just make it to camp."

This annoyed me. I usually have a strong digestive constitution. The only digestive issue I've ever had is with meat, and even that is not consistent. I was used to those symptoms, and this was not it. I had been struck low by a traveler's bug. Now I hoped that my supply of Pepto-Bismal would last. When we made it back to camp, I skipped dinner, slunk to our room, gulped water and the Pepto, and hoped the situation would resolve itself by morning.

The situation resolved itself, alright. It resolved to be worse than the previous day.

On the 26th we were scheduled to visit an underground mine to explore cave fauna and karst (cave) features. This involved a long voyage on the Paintmixer, and a kilometer trek underground. As soon as I awoke I knew the only trek I would be making today (with some regularity, again, no pun intended) would be to the bathroom and back. I crawled to breakfast to stock up on bread, fruit and water, and then hid in my room like a fugitive. As soon as people left, I stole to the bathroom and relieved both the mens' and ladies' toilets of all their toilet paper. This was war, dammit! So there I was, curled in the fetal position on my bed, surrounded by my hoard of tissue like some deranged irregular squirrel. That was 9:00am.

By 1:00pm I was out of tissue. The Pepto did not have the muscle to stop what my system was throwing down. So much for planning ahead. I was able to mime to the poor cleaning lady that I was in desperate need of tissue by waving an empty roll and looking frantic. One of the center attendants tried to get me to go to lunch, but at that point all lunch would have done is added fuel to a fire I wanted dead. I tried to mime that I was not feeling well without making it look like I didn't like the food. (The things I worry about when I'm sick. This must be the Canadian in me.) I think my miming had an effect, because somehow the poor fellow was able to convey that, as soon as the crew returned, he would send the crew doctor in to look at me.

There was one issue...the doctor only spoke Turkmen and Russian.

So, who out there has ever had to pantomime diarrhea? To a crowd of strangers? My acting skills must be superb (or desperation is my muse), for between my pantomime of my Old Faithful intestines and a supplemented translation of other symptoms by one of the Russian geologists, I was given the medication I needed and instructed to stay away from sweets, alcohol, and overly fatty foods while recovering.

I was going to live!!! The medication worked fast. I was able to go to dinner and attend that evening's entertainment of traditional dancing and singing. We were all sitting on either the huge traditional couches that surrounded the carpeted dance area, or sitting at the farther tables. I was on one of the couches. Once the traditional performances were over, modern club music started playing and all the dancers started pulling the expedition members off of the couches and on to the dance floor. I couldn't escape.

I am not even a passable dancer on the best of days. My motto is "if you can't dance well, dance silly." My favorite moves are the Bus Driver and the Shopping Cart. Other than those, I know one move. The living dead have more rhythm than I do. Regardless, out I went and did my best not to embarrass anyone. I think people were just happy I went out, because a lot of the dancers grabbed me for cellphone photos.

That's it for now! Next post: the Canyon hike and the Conference. Strange Woman out.

Strange Woman Abroad: Turkmenistan - Grotto of Forty Girls

[Continued from May 23 travel in previous post]

We unloaded our luggage on the train platform in Kelif. We greeted the reception line of holy men and young ladies, and then saw the performance. Although Turkmenbat is the larger city, there was a lot more enthusiasm and grandeur to the Kelif welcome ceremony. There were three song numbers, and at least two separate dance segments. 

Welcome reception at Kelif.

We went back to grab our luggage, and then were put in crisp white SUVs (VWs, I think, and each one with a picture of the Turmenistan coat of arms and the President affixed to the windshield) for our 2hr. police-escorted drive to the Lebaptorusm State Recreation Centre in the village of Koyten. There was some amazing geology exposed on the unpaved route, make more vivid by the numerous red paleosols.

Amazing geology!

We arrived at the Recreation Centre around 10pm. We greeted the reception line and dropped our luggage in our rooms. The rooms were great (no smoking!); they remind me of the "Chicken Coops" housing on the grounds of the Museum of Northern Arizona [great accommodation!]. We were treated to another feast of local fare, as well as the Turkmenistan national vodka, poured into small one oz. glasses from a ceramic teapot. I do not drink hard liquor, but I let the strong spirit sit in my throat with each sip, hopefully killing whatever bug might be lingering. If anything I'm sure it helped me sleep. Rich and I turned in right away - our international friends wanted us to join them for some more "clear tea", but I was barely hanging on as it was. We had an early day tomorrow.

May 24th - First Official Field Trip Part 1 - Grotto of Forty Girls

One thing we found out about the village of Koyten is that it has a village-wide call to prayer at 4:15am. It's a deep, echoey, sing-songy number that continues for about a minute. I can see why they would want to start the day early; it is lovely and cool in the morning. The birds also kick into high gear after the morning call. I woke and showered around 6:30am. Today is the day we head to the Kotendag track site, as well as the Kyrk gyz (Forty Girls) Grotto, the waterfall in the Umbar canyon, and visit a capitve-native animal breeding facility near the Umbar canyon. Canyon ecosystems, new exciting birds, dinosaur tracks, and baby animals await us!

We boarded a what looked like a hybrid between a white transport truck and a Monster Truck. The wheels on these vehicles are huge! Now this is a field transport!

The Paintmixer.

Locusts were quite common, and a great source of food for the local birds!

Our entourage was equally large: two grey-green versions of our transport vehicle, a medical truck, and what I assume were several press vehicles. The box-area of the truck had large windows and padded bus-like seats. The engine started with a growl and we started rolling. After five minutes on the bus we knew we were, quite literally, in for a bumpy ride: the bus (or "The Paintmixer", given how my insides were feeling) had the same suspension as the PRPRC's Argo (none). Regardless, the windows were large so we had a great view of the landscape. Several canyons and washouts tempted me (and I'm sure my other palaeo colleagues) with their exposed bedding surfaces, but there was no stopping; we had a long way to travel and a lot to see today.

We arrived at the mouth of the grotto entrance, and I could already tell I was going to be in for a day of fantastic birding. I figured I should get my fill of birds in the morning, since I'd be too busy at the track site in the afternoon for viewing avian theropods. It would be bad form for one of the paleontologist to be staring at the sky and the bushes with binoculars while tripping on the dinosaur tracks. My binoculars were my birding badge, and the fellows from the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (Mark, Chris, and Geoff) took the time to point out all the interesting birds they spotted. Rock Nuthatches, several species of swift, Crag Martin, Booted Eagles, Common Kestrals, Red-Billed Choughs, Rooks, Blue Thrushes...forget jewelry for Christmas: I want international birding guides!

We hike the canyon bed for the Grotto of Forty Girls (Kryk Gyz). The temperature in the canyon is cool and refreshing compared to the 30 C baking heat of the exposed desert. Even so, I was glad for my CamelPak. As we were starting we could see the refreshment table being set up for our return. Even if I had no water on me there was no way our hosts would let me expire from thirst.

Signage for the "Forty Girls Grotto". The five symbols below the picture are the symbols of the five provinces of Turkmenistan.

Panoramic picture of the canyon entrance.

Wild poppies add splashes of color to the arid landscape.

The Grotto was ready for our arrival. The little wood stove was burning and the green tea was hot and ready for anyone who sat on the benches. 

Prayer cloths - colored cloth secured to the ceiling by Grotto mud.

The Grotto stove was ready with hot green tea for all visitors.

I was pulled aside for a girls only photo with Svetlana (Russian geologist) and the grotto hostess: the Grotto is apparently sacred to women, and there women's prayers are heard. This Strange Woman doesn't subscribe to any particular religious system, but this did not stop me from adding my prayer cairn for the continuation of the Museum Project in Tumbler Ridge to the dozens of monuments to hope and belief. Cloth is also a common prayer item in this region. The Grotto was festooned with colorful cloths suspended from the ceiling with red Grotto mud.

My prayer cairn for the success of the Museum Project.

We left the canyon and boarded "The Paintmixer" to head to our next destination: the Koytendag Track Site. Stay tuned for the continuation of our first official day of field trips!