Canyon Hopping

   I was suppose to be completing the Annual Death March on Pine Valley Mountain this weekend but the yearning for exploring unfamiliar territory got the best of us. The call to head to Escalante to get lost in canyon country for a few days sounded more like an adventure and less of the Greek Myth of Sisyphus, where we are forced to walk up mountains only to walk back down the other side. I mean, who plans on doing a Death March every year...?

  The unfamiliar canyon of Death Hollow was adopted and sounded like a well suited replacement for the "Death March." I mean its got to be rough, it has death in its name. This was all good until the weather for our hike in a very large drainage area that slots up to only a few feet wide with no escape called for thunderstorms. This sounded like the start of a rough weekend.

  I have this expensive rubber floaty thingy in my garage that packs up easy. With a dismal snow pack this year it hasn't got much use. I was determined to make this change. After a few hours digging into forums, blogs and topo maps. I was able to piece a loop together that would work with our time frame and desires.

Let's go canyon hopping.

  If you don't get up early to watch the sunrise, you are missing out. Every one I've seen off Hole in the Rock has been something worth waking up for, this could be due to the fact that if I'm watching the sunrise out here something awesome is about to take place.

  If you are going to hike on a dirt road, it might as well be out here in true pioneer fashion.

Well we had beer though.

  Doing the foot shuttle early in the morning on fresh legs seemed like the right idea. Nobody likes to road walk in the heat of the day after you've been out for a few days.

  Without the hum of the car motor and the scenery flying by, I actually got to appreciate everything more. The morning was quiet. The air was still and cool from the night before. Walking along looking down at my feet I actually appreciated how good of shape this god forsaken section of road was. No rocks, deep sand, or moon dust anywhere. The washboards were small and besides the few cars we saw parked at Hurricane Wash trail head the night before, we practically had the place to ourselves. It sure felt like we were the only humans for miles.

  We eventually hit the wash and started following the surprisingly well made single track the cows have made criss-crossing the washes and cutting the bends.

  The sandy banks gave way to sandstone. First they started out as curbs, and then the walls began to climb up above us. The wash was dry and the boulders plentiful. The occasional tiny hitchhiker would jump in for a ride in between your arch and the soles of your chacos. I would kick them off and attempt to hold my pace as my 40 pound bag lurched me to the side.

Quite the wobble for this early in the day.

  Bypassing a dryfall we left the wash for a few hundred yards only to friction walk down a steep slope back into the slot canyon and found our first shade. Brother Moose and I headed back up the canyon to see this dryfall we avoided. The ladys sat comfortable in th shade avoiding any extra miles the boys may tack on. This is candy land for us.

 Luckily there hasn't been much rainfall this spring as we were able to avoid some foul murky canyon water and we walked through the slot canyon heading back to the dry fall.

  We reach the dry fall and admire the dilemma those rocks have been in. Those boulders have been there for quite some time now. The handful of times this canyon floods every year has already carved perfect cuts in the surrounding sandstone walls around the chockstones. Beautiful cuts in solid rock like a knife through butter. I can only imagine these chockstones have been there for quite some time now.

  Continuing down the dry canyon for a few miles we walked right up to the start of the perennial stream. Cottonwoods lined the river banks, tad poles swam in the pools and we took a break. While the stream was flowing, it wasn't a constant flow. It would slowly disappear into the sand to only reappear down the next bend. It did bring a lot of life to this canyon. Curious if spring time offers a constant flow down the canyon.

 The walls grew taller and we hiked deeper. The first huge alcove appeared and we spent lunch underneath it. There was a few petroglyph panels and an arch to stare at while we sipped on Mio and consumed our ramen and chips.

  While the alcove we found for lunch was a pretty rad campsite, it was only noon and although I do enjoy starring at the wall for 5 hours, this seemed excessive. With the forecast calling for rain tonight and tomorrow we pressed on down canyon looking for suitable alcoves near the lake for some quality shelter and to make day two easier.

  Soon enough we reached the high water mark of Lake Powell. This was marked by its famous "Bathtub ring"  After some walking in knee deep water which was surprisingly clear we walked right into this slot canyon that got narrower the higher it went up. This blocked out the sky and was an impressive sight to see. Glad it's been reborn from the lake.

  The last 100 feet of canyon above the lake was where the mud started to get real and caution was used to keep your shoes from disappearing into the black hole of mud never to be seen again. 

  With a suitable alcove to call home for the night in sight we had to navigate these dangerous waters a mere 200 ft to reach it. Depending on lake levels these alcoves are reachable by foot. This area changes by the year and at it's current state it was time to switch travel methods.

Time to float.

  A quick paddle around the bend and we were there. Beach front property. Within 5 minutes of reaching it a party barge came motoring up the canyon to only hit a shallow sand bar, turn around and have a passenger ask us to front flip off the cliff into the water.  Canyon back water isn't the most appealing water to swim in... Especially when the family pet has been washed ashore from who knows what incident.

  

  I spent a lot of my youth at Lake Powell as a kid. We stayed at a lot of great beaches along the lake. The Escalante arm was pretty far up from where we docked, so I was never fortunate enough to camp up here. I had no clue these alcoves could get so big. They can swallow a whole houseboat and keep it sheltered from the elements. These would be an impressive place to stay in the heat and thunderstorms of the summer months.

  People go to expensive spas, they get massages, waited on, and eat fine foods. While that is all well and good, I find the time spent in places like this just as good. We spent the evening starring at the wall for a few hours. Remember this is a privilege. The light moved up the canyon walls and painted the canyon in different shades. The clouds rolled by and we had good company. I poured over maps and looked at other adventures to plan for.

  Places like this are important to me. They make me feel small. They'll keep you in check and put your ego in it's place. They'll remind you of how little power you have. They remind you of time. Deep time. Time, I can't even justly understand. They were here long before I was, and they will be here long after I'm gone. I'll be forgotten, they'll still be here.

These walls captured Everett Ruess.

"...I have not tired of the wilderness; rather I enjoy its beauty and the vagrant life I lead, more keenly all the time. I prefer the saddle to the street car and the star sprinkled sky to a roof, the obscure and difficult trail, leading into the unknown, to any paved highway, and the deep peace of the wild to the discontent bred by cities..."
                                                                                                                                    -Everett Ruess

   Morning came. No rain. It was warm. I brought down my sleeping bag with the fear the weather man would be right and we would see rain and cooler temps. He was wrong. I spent the night on top of my bag waiting for the slightest breeze to come through and cool me off. The morning tasks were accomplished. Get coffee going, filter some water, sit and enjoy the moment. Like last night, It was quiet, still. We had a good cloud cover and got moving quickly with the threat of rain and even worse an after wind that would make paddling a flat bottom raft an extremely difficult task when there was 8 miles of it to contend with.

  A couple miles into the day we encountered a huge alcove that we went and explored. Kb found two adult beverages laying by a campfire ring by some boaters who don't know what the term, "Leave no trace" and "Pack it in, pack it out" means.

  With a mild buzz on the mind I felt obligated to stop any boat that passed by and give them the international symbol for beer. Most thought I was waving and returned the gesture.

One houseboat actual heard me yell, "Cervazes por favor!"

  They turned the boat around and gave us a few beers. They were all together for a bachelors party from Colorado. Only then did they ask my wife if she wanted to board the boat, only for her to answer, "No I'm fine,  I'll just take the beer... Thanks."

  Who can blame them, we hang out with some pretty solid lady's that are a lot more hardcore than most guys I know. The must have assumed we were just hanging out on the lake and not on an epic journey that would test us to our core.

  We reached the next canyon, deflated rafts and moved all our gear back into our bags and loaded it on our backs to explore another canyon and hopefully the next day, find our car.

  Our exit hike was appropriately named. So much vegetation and willows to get through. I didn't care, it was beyond beautiful. Hiking through willows with oars sticking out of your pack makes for an exciting journey. Careful leaping from rocks when there are branches above you.

Nobody.

Nobody down there.

  Maybe we caught the right weather and season for it to be empty but that was a surreal experience. Except for some old footprints, the place was untouched. We spent the afternoon getting up the canyon and we took our time. There was no rush. That's how it should be when you travel.

  We found a small clearing to call it night and spent the evening starring at the canyon walls, listening to the creek trickle over sandstone pour offs and birds echoing off alcoves above us.

 Up before the sun. The narrow sliver of sky above us was colorful today and blue sky peaked through. I remember seeing the stars in the middle of the night, A welcome surprise. I usually end up getting into the back country during the full moon. I was happy to see the stars fully lit without the moon over powering the night sky.

  We spent the morning wandering around sandstone canyons, admiring what they held. Every bend offered a different scene to take in.

If I ever go missing. This is where you'll find me.

Good time, would do again.