Reflections on Bears Ears: Beauty, History, and a Changing Landscape
The House on Fire Ruins
Standing before the "House on Fire" ruins in Mule Canyon, I was immediately struck by the silence and the scale of time. But it is the light that truly brings this place to life. In the late morning hours, roughly between 10:00 and 11:00 a.m., as the sun climbs, it reflects off the canyon floor and bounces upward, striking the overhanging ceiling. The light catches the natural iron streaks in the sandstone, creating a vivid, flickering orange effect that looks exactly like a house engulfed in flames. It is one of those rare places where the veil between the present and the ancient past feels incredibly thin.
These structures, built by the Ancestral Puebloan people centuries ago, served as vital storehouses for crops like corn and Indian ricegrass. They are a reminder that this desert was—and remains—a home, a place of survival, and a site of cultural identity.
A Shifting Status As of July 13, 2026, the landscape surrounding these ruins is facing significant change. President Trump has signed new proclamations that drastically reduce the boundaries of both the Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monuments. Under this order, Bears Ears has been reduced from roughly 1.36 million acres to approximately 121,100 acres.
The administration’s stated goal is to "rightsize" these monuments, arguing that previous designations were overly broad and that the land should be opened to "multiple-use" activities, including mining for critical minerals and energy development. Proponents argue this restores local control and honors the original intent of the Antiquities Act of 1906, which calls for protecting the "smallest area compatible" with an object of historic interest.
The Uncertain Future However, the move has reignited a fierce national debate. Conservationists, Tribal Nations, and many local communities see this as an assault on a landscape that is interconnected—where the health of the whole ecosystem, not just individual sites, is essential to protecting the cultural legacy within. Legal challenges are already underway, questioning whether the executive branch has the authority to shrink or dismantle monuments created by previous administrations.
For those of us who find inspiration in these red rock canyons, this is a pivotal moment. Whether you support the shift toward energy development or believe in the necessity of large-scale federal protection, it is clear that the future of these public lands is far from settled.
What remains constant, however, is our responsibility as visitors. These sites are incredibly fragile. When we go into the field to photograph these areas, we become stewards of the narrative. By practicing "Leave No Trace" principles and advocating for the protection of these sites, we help ensure that the "House on Fire" and thousands of other unmapped ruins remain standing long after the political dust settles.
What are your thoughts on the balance between resource development and monument protection? Let me know in the comments below.
