Dinosaur Tracks: Lost and Found

Dinosaur Tr

A photographer hastens to document stunning saurian trackways before a rising Lake

LAWYER-TURNED-PHOTOGRAPHER and saurian enthusiast Andre Delgalvis floated on the canyon-walled depths of Lake Powell and worried about the deepening snowpack on the distant crests of the Rocky Mountains. He knew he didn't have much time left.

Soon the snow would melt, the lake would rise and the dinosaur tracks he'd spent the last two years discovering and documenting would once again begin disappearing beneath the deep-blue surface of Lake Powell.

After six years of extreme drought, the lake hit a low of 145 feet below full pool on April 8, 2005, revealing traces of ancient life for the first time in decades. Now he was racing the rising water to document as many of his discoveries as possible. In mid-May he called me from his houseboat using a satellite phone. "In a day or two," he said, "one of the main track sites will be covered. It's coming up fast."

I grabbed some gear and dashed to Halls Crossing on the upper lake, where I met Andre at the launch ramp. We headed down lake in his 48-foot houseboat decorated with Navajo rugs and casts of dinosaur footprints. Andre had me take the wheel as we talked.

"I knew with the snowpack this winter," he said, "these tracks would soon be underwater."

So he contacted paleontologist Martin Lockley of University of Colorado at Denver, an expert on fossil tracks, who had worked at the lake on and off since 1991 with support from the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. The photographer and paleotracker combined efforts to launch a rescue operation to map and record the sites.

The paleontologist found what he called "a fantastic abundance of well-preserved tracks," ranging in age from 170 million to 200 million years old. Distinct dinosaur prints showed the fine detail of claws, long, padded toes and heel pads. Other sites contained a surprising abundance of crocodilian tracks left by two plant-eating dinosaurs practically unknown in the western United States. Some sites had tracks left by baby dinosaurs. He also recognized unusual swim marks where dinosaurs' claws had scraped a muddy lake bottom. The new finds more than doubled the known track sites at Lake Powell to more than 100. Next, Martin concentrated on recording those most threatened. “They may not re-emerge in our lifetime,” he said.

tracks face underwater disappearance

Powell reclaims them

Where to See Dinosaur Tracks

Carl Hayden Visitor Center

Visitors to Lake Powell can view a display of dinosaur tracks outside the Carl Hayden Visitor Center at Glen Canyon Dam, probably made by Dilophosaurus, a meat-eating dinosaur with twin crests on its head. Information: (928) 608-6404.

Farther north on U.S. Route 89, the visitors center at Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in Big Water, Utah, also focuses on paleontology. Information: (435) 675-3200.

Tuba City

Dinosaur tracks in their natural setting can be viewed near Tuba City where informal guides, often Navajo children, show you the best of several hundred tracks. No fee is charged, but a tip is expected. Carnivorous dinosaurs made most of the tracks, including the three-toed prints of Dilophosaurus, whose nearly complete skeleton was excavated a few hundred yards away. Scientists have found no bones of the dinosaurs that made the smaller tracks there, but have dubbed it Kayentapus. From Flagstaff, take U.S. Route 89 north 60 miles to U.S. Route 160 and turn right (east). Drive 5 miles on U.S. 160 to the hand-painted sign at the turnoff to Moenave. Turn left (north) and drive about 100 yards on a graded dirt road. Information: (928) 283-3284.

Racing against water

Now, Andre and I chugged across the deep blue water into a red canyon, etched with the white band denoting the last high-water mark. “The lake is what drew me here,” Andre said. “It’s a beautiful place.”

Mid-50 with a gray ponytail and John Lennon sunglasses, Andre had given up his law practice in Pennsylvania after moving to Grand Junction, Colorado. Initially, he commuted to handle his law cases, but soon yielded to his love of photography. Then in July 2003 he found his first dinosaur track.

Paddling along the shore of Lake Powell in a kayak, he spotted two curious markings on a rock slab. “I was puzzled at first,” he said. “One of them could have been a cowpie for all I knew, but the other looked like a track.” As he pored over a picture of the rock, he concluded they were dinosaur tracks. “It was the start, of a real adventure.”

For two years, he scoured the most likely locations along a portion of the lake’s 1,960-mile shoreline and turned up hundreds of fossil footprints, some chicken-sized, some 17 inches from heel to claw. At times it was hard work, but not always. He recalled the night he climbed a high point with his wife, Susan, to savor a bottle of champagne. The moment they popped the cork, he spotted a dinosaur trackway at his feet. “Sometimes they find you,” he said, “instead of the other way around.”

We continued up lake as Navajo Mountain soon came into our view, capped with snow. Near The Rincon, a cutoff meander of the old river, we tied off the boat and took the runabout to go tracking.

The first stop was a major track site on the verge of being inundated, a place only two dozen people had seen. Water lapped at a red ledge stairstepping back from the lake’s edge. Dozens of three-toed dinosaur tracks crisscrossed the rock. Among them lay two offset prints with a straight groove between them, the rare drag mark of a dinosaur’s tail left 190-million years ago.

Long ago, these fossil tracks were perched high on a cliff above the Colorado River, making it unlikely anyone saw them. “I may have been the very first person to ever see these tracks and recognize them for what they were,” Andre said, “and in two days I may be the last person to ever see them again.”

Moments later, a load of boaters joined us to gape at the clawed footprints. “Oh, how wonderful!” said Yvonne Riemersma, from Provo, Utah. She had never seen a dinosaur track in its natural setting. “How often do you get to see dinosaur tracks that will soon be gone?”

Margie Fraser said seeing the ancient prints was “as exciting as Christmas was as a kid.”

A week earlier, Martin and his volunteer crew had pinpointed and mapped the key fossil locations. At this site, they made tracings on acetate sheets and took latex molds of the best trackways. When they finished, Martin glanced at Andre. “Another day, another dinosaur,” he said, packing up his tools.

The next morning, our boat sliced across the still surface of the lake. “It’s like a pool of mercury,” Andre said.

Dr. Martin Lockley has such a passion for fossil tracks that his business card reads, "Dinosaur Tracker." In fact, the University of Colorado at Denver geology professor is the only scientist in North America studying dinosaur tracks full time.

Dr. Lockley, Dinosaur Tracker

He has looked for tracks in the United States, East Asia, Europe, Africa and South America and published more than 400 scientific papers and books.

Studying dinosaur tracks has led to some thrilling moments. When examining one 10-ton block, he found an immense three-toed track measuring 34 inches long. "I looked at it, and suddenly realized that's all it could be — a Tyrannosaurus rex." It is the only T. rex track ever discovered.

He has also investigated the smallest of dinosaur tracks. On a beach in South Korea, he said he "spotted these two tiny, tiny dinosaur tracks that were about an inch long and beautifully preserved on this block that was underwater during high tide. After working in Korea for 20 years, I had never found this type of track. It's only known from one other place in the world. That was very exciting — this beautiful little track."

extraordinary find I would have missed completely — the footprints and foreleg marks of a crouching dinosaur.

"I get the impression," Martin told me later, "that what they're doing is going into the water and squatting down. It's just conjecture, but I think they may have gone into the water in order to hide and ambush things." Tracks of a squatting dinosaur are known from only one other place in the western United States.

On our return, Andre motored beneath a projecting ledge and pointed out prints he had discovered on the underside. "I just get a kick out of finding these things," he smiled. "It's like an Indiana Jones adventure. I could be sitting behind a desk in a law office right now instead of out on Lake Powell finding dinosaur tracks. Which would you choose?"

Two days later, Andre watched as the rising lake covered the lowest track site, the water seeping inexorably into first the footprints and then the tail mark. "It's like your kid," he told me. "I've been guarding that spot for two months and — boom! It was gone."

On the other hand, the burden had been lifted. He had done what he could, and now he would return to his photography — and maybe a little tracking — as the rising water opened new shorelines for exploration. AH