Forgive us, gentle readers, for our lack of posts in the last several
days... Our time has been filled with the pleasant company of dynamic
friends and humbling canyons cut deep into the sandstone sentinels of
Zion National Park, then a brief stop over in the new agey red rocks
of Sedona, AZ before heading the 700+ miles home . We are currently on
the road, so I thought I might have a bit of time to catch up ...
This was Christians 6th year going to Zion with an ever changing
collection of adventure seekers, nature lovers and friends. This year
we totalled 16 people, from many different walks of life, (one
travelling as far as New York City) some old friends, some couples,
all eager to forge new bonds of trust amongst the group, that would
ensure our safe journey navigating through the desolate deserts and
isolated slot canyons. This year also marked our anniversary,
Christian and i having met on this trip a year ago, as i was invited
by a mutual friend, little did we know what would unfold in the
following year :) Thanks Jenn !!
Canyoneering is rapidly growing as a popular back country sport,
giving people a unique opportunity to experience the canyons from the
bottom up, with relatively limited technical knowledge (basic
rapelling, rope handling skills, route finding) with the primary
requirements being a healthy tolerance of heights, a fearlessness of
potentially clausterphobic spaces and a willingness to swim through
cold murky (sometimes smelly) water ! Ha! All in the name of
adventure... And access to some of the most breathtaking curvacious
cathedrals of stone, forged by the powerful benevolent flow of water,
that few eyes have ever seen.
The first day, a group of 10 of us prepared for the days activities,
packed lunches, lathered on sunscreen, and double checked gear :
helmet, harness, locking carabeaner, ATC (the device used to attach to
the rope for rapelling), leather gloves (to protect hands from
friction heat when dropping down long dry waterfalls, 100+ ft),
drybags (as there is often water in the canyons, we are often required
to swim), map, non-cotton layers, headlamps, waterpumps/bottles, 100s
of feet of static rope and a healthy dose of courage. Our destination
was a remote canyon called "Fat Mans Misery" so called because there
were once several tight places that travelers were reqiured to
squeeze, that might have proven challenging for one with a more
generous frame. The approach was 2.5 miles of hot rugged cross-country
travel, requiring a decent amount of route finding, necessary to find
the initial decent point down into the canyon. It is always shocking
to look out across the rocky, seemingly endless Mesa tops to find them
abrumptly punctuated by a plunging dark canyon slicing through the
earth, miraculous in it's formation over eons of years. We found the
beautiful canyon and spent the day introducing our new friends to the
skills needed to safely, explore and enjoy the special place.
As typical with canyoneering "virgins", they wandered jaws dropped
through the cool smooth slot canyons, fingers trailing on the gritty
sandstone walls that rose and undulated 200 ft overhead, the sliver of
sunlight above, shape-shifted with the mood of the waters of times
past. Together we pondered the relentless force necessary to form
these features over time, marveled at the huge trees and boulders
lodged overhead, jammed between the narrow walls, constantly with an
eye turned to the sky , lest we might come face to face with that
powerful force, a flash flood, should the weather suddenly turn
unexpectedly. After 10hrs and 45 minutes of laughs, adventure & true
teamwork, we returned to our cars safe and sound as dusk fell in the
desert.
Day 2 dawned with clear blue perfection, the high red and white
sandstone peaks greating our drowsy eyes as we fumbled to brew some
coffee. Today, the group was splitting into 3 to check out different
canyons (smaller groups can move faster and more efficiently, and most
canyons in the park have size limits of 6 per party). My group was
heading out to tackle "Behunin", a canyon known for it's numerous big
rapells, the last one being a 165 ft free rapell requiring the person
to hang in open space, over a ledge, and lower themself to the ground
(not for the weak of heart!) We knocked out the approach hike
relatively easily, a 2000 ft elevation gain in 3 miles, passing by the
much celebrated 'Angels Landing' hike and onwards toward the West Rim,
we finally dropped into the beginnings of the canyon, beautiful
sandstone arches soaring overhead. The first section to drop into the
canyon consisted of 4 consecutive rapels, totalling almost 450 feet of
rope length, broken up by brief stops at pitiful trees miraculously
clinging to the slick rock, that we confidently used as belay anchors.
(yikes!) The 3rd rapell was 125 vertical feet down the face of a dry
waterfall, which proved to be a little psychologically/physically
challenging for me, as part of the way down (and still very high off
the ground) my break hand started to cramp and tire- letting go of the
rope was not an option, as that would have sent me plunging down the
rope at a rapid pace, resulting in an unfortunate landing below.
Luckly down on the ground, I had a trusty friend, man-beast, Andreas,
who was able to help relieve some pressure from my exhausted hand and
get me safely down. Whew!
Once safely on the ground, I was able to relax and wait till the rest
of the group decended. The yawning silence of the canyon was abruptly
shattered when we heard a loud crack, crack, crack... BOOM, from what
seemed to be only several yards down the canyon. The only logical
explaination was rockfall from far above, which can often prove fatal
to climbing parties, this time TOO close for comfort ! Several minutes
later a dust cloud rose around us, undoubtedly the result of falling
debris. Feeling a little frazzeled, but grateful that fate had us up
canyon when that occurred, we continued carefully down to investigate
the situation further. We searched the narrow canyon for obvious fresh
rock fall, without much result, we continued down the sandy wash of
the canyon floor, suddenly discovering that the sand that was once
pure white beneath our feet, was now covered with a fine layer of red
dust coating everything for 50 feet along the narrow stretch, our pale
foot prints eerily marking the first passage through since the rock
fall.
This served as a healthy and humbling reminder of the powers of
nature, constantly at work around us !
With that, not so subtle, reminder, we continued down the canyon to
our last rapell, the grande finale! No matter how many times I rapel,
it is still slightly unnerving to lower yourself over the edge of some
steep precipice, knowing your fate rests firmly in a few stiched
together pieces of webbing, rope and forged metal. The 165 ft of free
repel was initially terrifying, then invigorating, taking in the
immense view that stretched from my dizying vantage point, high above
the earth, far away from anything solid beneath my feet. Like a spider
slipping down her silken web, the canyon floor of Zion magestically
stretched before me in every direction, thankfully urged by my friends
far below, I slowed down, took a deep breath to enjoy the moment. What
a gift !
That evening brought much revelry as the groups reunited to tell tales
of the days adventures!
Our 3rd and final day, brought a mellow morning, goodbyes to some who
had to return to work (oh bother!), a brief stint in the local sports
bar for the World Cup semi-final (go Holland :) and a fabulous float
down the lazy green river that winds amidst the towering peaks.
Always and forever a part of my heart is deep in the canyons of Zion
and with my faithful companions that join me there !
Xo
