Along the Escalante, October 6th Left Escalante this morning with a bounce in my step, and walked a short distance down HWY 12 before turning off the road for the Upper Escalante River Trailhead. The road passed by the Cemetery which I was happy to poke around in for a few minutes. 1881 was the oldest headstone I noticed, and I got acquainted with some of the early names that I'd no doubt be seeing scrawled into the sandstone in the coming week. Alvey, Pollock, Baker to name a few. After signing the register I headed downcanyon, crossing the COLD waters of the Escalante a number of times through the morning. This route is a popular dayhike for folks, so the trail was easy to discern. After a few hours I passed by Death Canyon and after a few more I stopped at Sandy Canyon for the evening despite the early hour. I only have an hour of hiking to the HWY to meet Brandt tomorrow, so I took the afternoon off to climb around on the slickrock above the river corridor.
Brian Brandt Hart's Arrival, October 7th I pushed off from my camp and continued down the Escalante River, numbing my feet first thing with a cold crossing.
Eventually I walked to HWY 12, where I passed beneath the HWY bridge and continued down the river corridor along a private property easement. I was hoping to see some sign of the Old Boulder Highway as that was my route up through the cliffs, and along the Haymaker Bench to my rendezvous with Brandt. As I passed a Private Property sign I noticed what appeared to be the remnants of a rock retaining wall a few hundred feet above me. I quickly crossed the private driveway, scampered up the sandy sidehill, and was pleased to discover that my hunch was right...I'd found the old road and made easy progress as I switchbacked up through the cliffs.
After an hour or so I crested a small ridge and was delighted to see Brandt's van parked, and my good friend emerge from the vehicle to meet me at the gate. After hugs and greetings we loaded up and headed back into Escalante for lunch, package up our cache buckets, and to pay a quick visit to the festivities of Everett Ruess Days -- an arts and crafts festival going on in Escalante. Tom (whom I met up with Zion) was displaying some of his photographs at the festival and it as nice to catch up with him as well. With the new hiking plans (which I detailed in an earlier post) it is necessary for us to utilize a single cache to break the 10 days that Brandt will be hiking with me into 2 sections...Brandt with 2 sections of 5 days, and me with a section of 5, and a section of 8. It was our feeling that the terrain was challenging enough that attempting to carry 10 and 13 days of food would be unsafe by greatly increasing the likelihood of physical injury. I had hoped to show that the Hayduke Trail is a feasible route to do without caches, and I still believe it is. My original route from Escalante was 10 days to Hite Marina, with the first 2 days being an easy road walk and straight-forward trail. A number of exceptional alternative routes exists in this area, so be sure to investigate the options if you are planning a hike. Anyway, our cache involved ~4 hrs of driving and hiking time before returning to Escalante for dinner. After dinner we drove out of town to camp for the evening. Brian Bloody Shins and a Fox, October 8th We awoke early, fired up the van, and headed back up to where I originally met Brandt atop Haymaker Bench to begin our hike along the Overland Route.
Just before lunch time we passed an old USGS Gauge Station and then in a few more minutes found our exit route, a 60 ft slab of Class 4+ sandstone with a noticeable crease that ran along its length. The climbing was easy and we were happy to be out of the canyon and up on the bench of slickrock which was much easier hiking. Thick storm clouds and a steady wind picked up, which would continue to keep us guessing about the weather for the remainder of the day. After ascending to an obvious saddle and then descending the backside into a swirling gully of colorful stone we where excited to see a fox scrambled among the boulders. Following a thin bench above Boulder Creek, we eventually downclimbed to the creek, and then bushwacked a short distance to our exit route...a narrow slot filled with weedy vegetation, loose rocks, and tricky climb out its end to reach the open country of Brigham Tea Bench. After consulting the maps and getting our basic route figured, we set off across the bench --- a mixture of sage, sandy slopes and slickrock. We crossed a few drainages, climbed to a few knobs, and eventually found our way into The Gulch via an old cattle route.
An hour later after hiking along great slickrock, and then across an open sandy bench, we descended into Horse Canyon via an old cattle route. The cattle routes throughout the Escalante area are really quite interesting works of cowboy engineering. Often times steps can be seen that are chiseled into the sandstone which gave the cows and horses a bit of traction. Some blasting was done as well, so short exposed stretches off relatively level sandstone exist along cliffs or steep slabs. Camp tonight is just up canyon from the confluence of Death Hollow and Horse Canyon --- among a nice stand of cottonwood. Brandt had camped with his wife Anna at the same spot earlier in the year during their loop hike of Little Death Hollow and Wolverine Canyon. Total Hiking time: 10 hrs Brian Overland, into Canyons, October 9th After a fitful nights rest Brandt and I left Horse Canyon, climbing to the Big Bown Bench along a constructed cattle trail. Once on the bench, we followed lengths of galvanized pipe leftover from a defunct pumping project to a dry stock tank beneath some large alcoves.
Swapping navigational leads after our break, we eventually found our descent route into Silver Falls Canyon. The route down made its way through Navajo, Kayenta, and finally Windgate Sandstone to the canyon floor. Beneath a large cottonwood we ate lunch and consulted the maps for the afternoon hike. Since day one of this section of hiking we've been struggling to keep pace with our schedule which is largely based upon the vague range of times provided by a few guidebook authors. Typically we are on the low end of the times provided. We've made no navigational errors thus far either, but since bushwhacking through Boulder Creek yesterday, we've been behind. Although the original plan was to stay above the Escalante River, we decided to hike down the canyon and join the river to make up a much needed few hours. A bit reluctantly we headed down river, sometimes wading in the water, sometimes bashing and bleeding through the thickets of willow, tamarisk, and russian olive. On every trip, I have at least a few days where I wish I was someplace else and this afternoon certainly qualified. Sometimes it is a thin line between screams and smiles.
After a brief break soaking the scene in, we returned to our packs and made camp in the lower canyon. Today was a very mentally and physically draining day --- certainly one of the toughest of the trip. Despite being painful and frustrating at times, it was nothing a pot full of noodles, a soft sandy camp, and the company of a good friend could not overcome. Total Hiking time: 11 hrs Brian Brandt the Guest Writer, October 10 Honorary guest writer Brandt Hart at your service, typing from
the backcountry for what I think is the first time.
After ascending to the rim of the Escalante escarpment on the cattle trail we contoured around to Ringtail Canyon and quickly found suitable slabs of slickrock that allowed us to cross it. Continuing along the Overland Route for a bit we left it as planned, and just above the mouth of Baker Canyon began to search for another abandoned cattle trail. Down at the river again we were able to make relatively decent time to our sand dune exit below the mouth of Twentyfive Mile Wash. We will remain on the west side of the river until we cross back over to Stevens Canyon in a few days. Just a few miles down river from where we exited an extremely important task is taking place. Sometime within the next few days National Park Service ranger Bill Wolverton and a group of Sierra Club members will finish up a week of hard work removing russian olive, an exotic species introduced during the 1800s for various reasons. Russian olive is Evil and will out compete even tamarisk further replacing native vegetation and destroying critical riparian habitat. Over the last nine or so years Bill and countless volunteers have managed to clear around thirty river miles of the thorny invader, more than half of the river length managed by the NPS as a part of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. I would highly encourage anyone to join in on this effort. An organization called Wilderness Volunteers routinely assists Bill in a job no one could be more passionate about than Bill.
Total walk time for the day was about 10 hours. Brandt Day of ledges, views and domes, oh my!, October 11th Well, looks like Brian is too lazy to write and has passed the duty on to me. Today was another great day. Brian declares it has been one of the best days since leaving Zion National Park. Perfect weather as well as dry feet and stunning views.
We continued along the Kayenta ledges southward, contouring in and around side canyons to our exit. There was little discernable trail south of the dune, only where a constriction forced animals and the few people who use this route was there anything to follow on the ground. Nearing a key Navajo slickrock dome we made our way to the top of the Kayenta. We exited through the 5.2 pouroff and crack that Allen describes. Brian went fist and I was able to hand packs up to him.
Hike time for the day was about 8.5 hours including a long lunch. Tomorrow is onto Coyote Gulch and if all goes well our cache. It is great to finally be doing this trip. I clearly remember plotting portions of it on my maps late one night at my kitchen table when I lived in Logan several years ago. And to be doing it with a great friend as part of his larger trek adds to its importance. Today, like other days, was filled with quality conversation and overall good times. Brian and I also work well together when it comes to map reading/navigation and route selection. Finally, I'd like to say good night to my amazing wife Anna and our crazy cat Sylvester. I hope all is well back home on the Navajo Nation. Brandt October 12th We left Fool's Canyon by climbing up through Kayenta ledges along (you guessed it...) an abandoned cattle route. The trail was great, switchbacking lazily towards the canyon rim. A short section of blasted sandstone led us to the top. After a few minutes hiking through a series of domes and washes, we could easily discern the saddle of King Mesa, our intended route.
We descended just left of the Long Branch of Sleepy Hollow, occasionally taking a moment to stare into the depths of the narrow canyon. Within an hour we discovered a ramp of steep slickrock into the main canyon of Sleepy Hollow, and a few minutes of bushwacking brought us to the much anticipated junction with Coyote Gulch. While taking a short break we noticed a women wandering about the slickrock with toilet paper and an orange Potty Trowel in hand. Brandt and I had a good laugh imaging her trying to scrape out an 8" deep cathole in the sandstone. After our break we started down Coyote Gulch, doing our best to keep our feet dry, and our eyes on the scenery. Cottonwood and Willows lined the creekbed while streaked walls of sandstone rose skyward. In a short while we re-joined the Hayduke at Hurricane Wash and by lunch time had passed around Jacob Hamblin Arch. After lunch we continued down canyon passing under Coyote Natural Bridge. Ed Abbey said of this spot:
I can happily say that the scene and sense of place that Abbey described is still very much intact, although Bill Wolverton and his invasive plant militia have managed to remove the tamarisk and their colorful plumes. It was certainly a treat to walk a canyon that was not under siege from exotic invaders. It actually reminded me a bit of Hackberry Canyon in the sense of illustrating what a healthy desert canyon ecosystem might look like. A few more hours of hiking brought us around and through a number of waterfalls and large pools, where Brandt and I took a moment to clean up. Refreshed, we continued downcanyon, passing a number of other hikers, and scenic Cliff Arch.
My stomach ache has escalated to `intestinal difficulties' and I was hurting most of the afternoon, with a few emergency catholes being dug (with no Potty Trowel!) during the course of the day. I've taken some meds, but we'll see how I feel in the morning before pushing on...could be a quick stomach flu or it could be some prolonged condition such as Giardia which I would need to treat ASAP if I have any hope of completing the Hayduke Trail. Brandt and I have discussed the possibilities of a brief retreat from our route to acquire some meds and get my belly back on track before continuing. Unfortunately that would mean Brandt not joining me for the second half of our planned trip --- something in which he assures me is not a big deal, but I feel bad about. I am trying not to be Chicken Little and proclaim that the sky is falling, but it is better to deal with my stomach issues immediately than take a chance and be dealing with it in an even more remote spot. I tend towards conservatism with my health, and feel that pushing on without getting my bowels straightened out would be a real crap-shoot... Anyway, may our evening be restful, our spirits refreshed, and may my stool be solid come daylight... Total hiking time: ~10 hrs Brian Intestinal Conclusions, October 13th Uncertain of my intestinal issues, we both slept in a bit this morning and lounged about camp, waiting for some signal from below that all was well.
Less than an hour later we were standing in the Escalante River, snapping pictures of Steven's Arch (Sky Arch for the Old School) and making our way slowly up canyon against a strong water current. When Lake Powell is at full capacity, the reservoirs fetid waters actually inundate the mouth of Coyote Gulch. As such, walking up the Escalante the actual streambank was ~6 ft above our heads for a brief time.
Eventually we came to a large pouroff and a steep boulder field. Dropping our packs we skirted around the slope and into a grotto that the pouroff formed, to see Hanging Arch --- a shapely rib of stone spanning the grotto. Ferns hung low on the walls and dripped with a light musical tune. Quite a soothing scene. Leaving the grotto we made our way up the steep slope, doing our best to avoid the poison ivy during the ascent. Reaching the top we stopped for a short lunch before continuing upcanyon. More bushwhacking, a few small patches of slickrock, and two massive undercuts, brought us to another pouroff and a set of intimidating Moki Steps which ascended a near vertical wall. We backtracked a few hundred yards to a ramp of stone and sand which we followed up to a steep Class 3+ slab to the top of the Windgate wall. Contouring, we climbed into the trusty ledges of Kayenta stone and traversed above the canyon until spotting a pothole full of water and locating a suitable ramp to descend to the canyon floor. We filtered our water and have made camp on slickrock. The moon is casting a nice glow on the upper cliffbands and an Owl's hoot has added to the evenings pleasantries. My stomach has thankfully behaved all day, and I hope the trend continues! Overall it was a very pleasant day of hiking despite the late start and we did not see anyone else during the course of the day. Hiking Time: 6.5 hrs Brian The Baker Trail, October 14th Today began like most, a steep climb out of a canyon to gain a desired route. From our camp in middle Stevens we went up a rubble slope in order to continue up canyon. After a few hours of pleasant walking we were at our exit, the Baker Trail. The "elongated potholes" used to find the exit were dry. Up the exit route we went. At first the navigation was straight forward but as we approached the top of the Waterpocket Fold the terrain became more confusing. Certainly the most difficult place to find ourselves on a map since I joined Brian at Hwy 12. The domes of slickrock all looked similar. Eventually though we were on top, and before we even tried to find it we ran into cairns of the Baker Trail. We enjoyed lunch from the shade of an old juniper tree and enjoyed commanding views of the Henry Mountains, the Bears Ears, Lake Powell, Mancos Mesa, and even a distant view of the La Sal mountains near Moab. After lunch we began to follow the Baker Trail down to Halls Creek. The "trail" was put together by the Baker family who in 1919 moved from Escalante to their ranch on Halls Creek. According to Capitol Reef NP history the ranch not only dealt with cattle but also had extensive orchards and fields under cultivation. Sadly, in 1963 I think, the ranch was bought by the NPS. As far as we can tell the historic Baker Ranch is now entombed by a massive amount of silt topped by tamarisk, the aftermath of a reservoir the size of Lake Powell. Despite very infrequent travel the Baker Trail was easy to follow, just the right amount of cairns marked our route. Without the cairns navigation would have been difficult and undoubtedly we would have been descending some steep slabs. However, near the bottom we lost the cairns in a sea of slickrock and continued toward our goal. One thing we really had no idea of for today was water. I had failed to ask around about Halls Creek and after filling up at a nice spring we walked a bit and Halls Creek has a good flow of the liquid gold. Maps sometimes show things like streams or springs but like some politicians, maps can lie. We then continued up Halls for about 5 miles, good but hot walking through the ever present and introduced cheat grass and tumble weed. We are now camped on smooth slickrock slabs near the mouth of Millers Creek as an owl hoots and a fuller moon shines bright. ~10 hrs hike time, no people Good night, Brandt What a great day of hiking! Climbing from camp up Steven's Canyon to the top of the Waterpocket Fold was exceptional as was the Baker Trail to descend to Halls Creek. Navigation was a bit of an issue on the ascent to the ridge, but once we ignored the details of the route description and just picked our way upward through the maze of stone, we were much better off. Views from the top of the ridge were most likely the best of the trip... views of 80+ miles in all directions despite a slight haze. As Brandt mentioned the cairned Baker Trail was our descent route to Halls Creek and was a highlight of the day for me. It is amazing to see what people were able to accomplish in 1919 with a strong will and the heavy weight of faith prodding them to succeed in such a formidable landscape. Likewise, the waters of Lake Powell are a testament to people's ability to push onward with an agenda despite all of the facts, figures, and illogic of a given project --- driven by the faith that the promised economics will pan out. A few miles of bushwhacking, sand, heat, and hellacious thistle brought us to our camp in early evening. It was nice to stop early as I have a bit of mending to do...holes
in my pack, gaiters, shorts, and shirt. However, regardless of its filth or form, each morning I am happy to don the shirt for another day as it has been on my back for nearly 3,200 miles of hiking. It only comes out of the closet for big trips, and I am sorry to think it will undoubtedly be retired in ~280 more miles. I hope it makes it... The shorts are my other concern. After ~1,500 miles of hiking, they are growing a bit thin in the seat, and one fall could easily leave me quite exposed...not a big deal in the backcountry, but probably frowned upon along the streets of Moab. I'll defiantly have to hit the thrift store before heading home. Brandt on the other hand is clad in a number of new garmets...even at our cache he was unwrapping new clothing from its protective plastic! While he sleeps I may have grab a few things to save for later... Near full moon tonight. Writing sans heap lamp... Brian Capitol Reef National Park, October 15th Despite the glowing moon, Brandt and I slept well and headed from our camp. The morning was cool but pleasant. In about an hour we crossed into Capitol Reef National Park between two posts with faded Park Boundary signs attached. Not too official, but they confirmed our location on the map, and my 4th National Park of this hike. A bit of bushwhacking and creek walking led us into the narrows of Halls Creek about mid-morning. The narrows are ~3 miles long.
This section of Halls Creek does get some use, so we were happy to discover a beat out single track which would eventually led us ~9 miles distant to the Hall's Overlook Trail. The trail roughly followed the old wagon two track that led to Baker Ranch back in the 1920's. The flow of Halls Creek ran dry just after exiting the narrows. Mid-afternoon we passed beneath Red Slide where we re-joined the Hayduke Trail. The lower slopes of the slide have some balanced towers very similar to The Hat Shop in Bryce Canyon, but certainly far fewer and less colorful, but every bit as interesting. The Hayduke climbs up the slide and it looked to be a long, sunny affair, although it was easy to discern the old uranium mining road that it followed from below.
Again the the moon is bright, and Brandt and I are watching lightning on the horizon --- hoping it blows through without incident! The clouds appear friendly, but one never knows just what will happen in these parts... Anyway a really nice day of walking made better by a variety of scenery, momentary lapses of intense laughter, and a nice camp. My intestinal issues seem to have
cleared up, so it was either a lapse of hygiene on my part, or
some pothole water that my stomach disagreed with. Either way,
my energy is back up and I feel much better. ~11 hrs hiking Brian Well, I'm not sure about "friendly clouds." Brian and I just moved camp from the nice slickrock to the lee side of a juniper and put up the tarp. It's 9:20pm. The wind is picking up, lightning is closer, and rather than be reactive we chose to be proactive and perhaps sleep better in the process. Currently dark clouds surround us. Like Brian reported yesterday his clothes are becoming quite ragged. Frankly, I'm not sure he will make it to Hite much less Moab. Let's hope he doesn't frame his shirt. This will likely be my last post as the Lower Muley Twist traillhead is ~14 miles away. We should get there by mid afternoon tomorrow. On the way to meet Brian in Escalante I stashed a bicycle there that will, if all goes as planned, allow me ride the ~44 miles along the Burr trail back to my car on Hwy 12. After that I have the washboard filled joy of driving the Hole in the Rock Road again to remove our buckets at Crack in the Wall. Then I travel back home to my wonderful wife, with her beautiful voice, and to our cat. The ironic thing with the Escalante is that for me, the end of the Hole in the Rock Road is less than 100 miles from where I live, as the crow flies, but it takes me seven hours to drive from the end of it to my driveway near Mexican Hat, Utah. The beauty of the Colorado Plateau geography. I must say that for me to be able to join Brian on this section has been outstanding. I have seen many places that have been on my list for many years. My body has held up much better than expected, too. Plus, the weather has been superb. But most of all Brian is a great friend and it has been great to hike with him. In the nine hard days of hiking with Brian we have managed to not cross a single currently used road, have seen not one ATV track, and have only seen other people on two of those days. Pretty good stats if you ask me. Hearing thunder clearly now, perhaps that's a sign to go to sleep... Well, I guess I didn't talk much about today. Today we walked up Halls Creek. It was nice.
Sound of light rain now, time to sleep. Brandt Muley Twist and Beyond, October 16th After a poor forecast on my part and excellent foresight on Brandt's, we spent a relatively comfy night beneath the tarp as the rain moved through. Morning brought a fresh scent to the desert which made up for our general lack of enthusiasm to get hiking. As we packed up, a large pack of coyotes greeted the morning. We left camp and in a few minutes found our entry into Lower Muley Twist Canyon --- a canyon so twisty, the cattlemen said it would, "twist yer mules." Finding a sunny patch of slickrock we ate a late breakfast and dried out some of our gear.
Eventually we reached the Burr Trail (a dirt road) where Brandt had stashed his bike. The Burr Trail was named after John Atlantic Burr who was an early rancher. He died in the backcountry because of a urinary tract infection, which he had tried to `fix' himself using a piece of wire. Ouch. Folks were certainly hardy back then. After getting Brandt's bike and retreating to a shady picnic table, we both re-packed, had a farewell snack, and said our goodbyes. I needed to get in another ~8 miles of hiking, and Brandt had a ~40 mile bike ride ahead of him. At ~4 pm I set off down the 6 switchbacks of the Burr Trail to Swap Canyon. Shortly I left Capitol Reef National Park and entered a Wilderness Study Area along a cattle path. The walking was very easy and it was nice to be in terrain different than the last 10 days of slickrock and sandy washes. Swap Canyon is quite colorful, but in a more subdued manner...browns, grays and pastels.
It feels a little strange to be alone again. Certainly not uncomfortable, but certainly different than the last 9 days. I am confident in getting through the upcoming challenges solo, but sometimes it is nice to be able to share the duties and stress of a backcountry adventure with someone you enjoy and trust. Anyway, with only ~2 weeks remaining I have to say that the trip feels like it is winding down and I know things will progress rapidly from this point sans injury or sickness. I feel strong. ~22 miles Brian Into the Henry Mtns, October 17th After a disappointingly restless night of sleep, I gathered up my gear and continued a short ways up Swap Canyon to the exit route. Surprisingly the route had a cairn at its base, and although obvious, it was nice to know I was on course. The authors of the Hayduke Guide mention occasionally placing cairns so I was interested to see how many, and their location during the days route. After climbing out of Swap Canyon I traversed along Swap Mesa; some xc hiking, some cattle trails, and a short stretch of abandoned mining road. Occasional cairns marked my whereabouts, but the going was straightforward.
By mid-morning I had dropped into a drainage near the base of the cliffs which rise from Swap Mesa to the edge of Tarantula Mesa above me. Water flowed from a weak spring and I tanked up for the day, snacking and hydrating in the cool confines of the canyon. Climbing from the drainage via a conveniently cairned exit point, I ascended to a dividing ridge up a steep and crumbly cattle route. More contouring xc and along cattle trails dropped me into Muley Creek, which I then followed up canyon to the first side canyon coming in from the west.
All cockiness aside, I prefer to go up really steep slopes instead of down them as I feel it is easier to control speed and maintain balance. Besides, looking at the slope I felt that it was entirely manageable and doubted I would have to remove my pack for any portion of it. Anyway, I down shifted in low gear and climbed steadily upward. 25 minutes later I had reached the rim climbing through steep loose dirt, and negotiating two small cliffbands. All in all the ascent was much easier than described and no pack haul was necessary. Once on top of Tarantula Mesa I took a quick bearing and set off to intersect a dirt road which I would follow for ~8 miles to the base of the Henry Mountains. It was a pleasant change to be hiking in open country again. While the confines of canyons are beautiful, seeing the vastness of the land and sky is always preferred in my book. The afternoon was pleasantly overcast and I enjoyed a few burritos for lunch as Brandt had given me a few remaining tortillas from his leftovers before his departure. Just a simple tortilla and my taste buds were alive again! Thank you Brandt! Even a little variety after 1.5 months of the same food is much appreciated! Continuing towards the Henry Mtns I was overtaken by a few fellas on ATV's. Seems Chip got lucky and drew a deer tag (1 of 13) for the upcoming rifle season in a few weeks, so he and his buddy Speedy were checking out the terrain and doing a little recon before the real chase began. They invited me to their camp for a cool beverage --- pop, beer, or Gatorade. The only rule was whatever I chose, I had to have two. Much obliged, I cracked open two Gatorades and happily pounded both immediately. I learned that Chip and Speedy are both from Price, UT which is in Emery county, just north of the San Rafael Swell. Speedy just retired from the coal mine, while Chip still worked there --- 24.75 years to date. It was interesting to listen to them talk about mining and how much automation has changed what they do during the last 20 years. They also mentioned that the mine was hiring: $21/hr Union, or $25/hr non-union for a basic laborer. I made an effort to steer the conversation towards land issues, and Chip and Speedy were happy to talk about National Parks, Wilderness, Motorized Access, and all the issues that face most westerners who recreate. Like most blue collar Americans they bemoaned the status of US manufacturing and the widening gap between rich and poor. Again, I am happy to discover more common ground with folks I may have originally discounted as having little in common with. Certainly we had differing viewpoints about some land management issues, but all in all we probably found common ground in 75% of the topics we discussed. Anyway, after farewells and the promise of a recommendation on my behalf if I came to work at the coal mines, I continued down the road a few more minutes to my junction with Sweetwater Canyon which was my ascent route into the Henry Mtns.
I believe the Henry Mtns were the last mountains in the US to be discovered and mapped. They rise to over 11,000 ft and and unfortunately show the scars of many mines and roads. They are a remote range that get very few visitors despite offering unparalleled views of Utah and being home to a herd of introduced wild bison. I've wanted to climb the Henry's for some time and it feels good to be spending an evening on their slopes near 8,500 ft. ~20 miles Brian Over the Henry's..., October 18th Chip and Speedy had mentioned that
a storm was blowing in and I had made camp as high as feasible
on the slopes of the Henry's to try to get the ridgeline hiking
done with before the weather hit. No such luck.
Unfortunately, sub-9,000 ft (my guess at snow line) elevations were ~6 miles distant and I still needed to climb to 10,500 ft Bull Creek Pass before my descent. Cold and wet but still smiling I put my best foot forward, making slower progress in the thinner air. Despite the snowfall, I did spot ~10 does and a few big-antlered bucks roaming about. Rounding a bend I saw an ATV (2nd of the morning) and stopped to talk with the lady driving it. She looked genuinely surprised to see me walk out from the snow and fog... especially so since I was still in shorts and she appeared to have every article of clothing from her closet on. Her and her husband were loading up the truck and heading down the mountain and offered me a ride which I politely declined. They have a slice of private property on the Henry's and were up working on their cabin. I guess their family (Darfey?) were some of the original homesteaders to the area and therefore could build. What a place to have a cabin!
A few minutes later the Darfey's pulled up in their truck and again offered me a ride with, "We think you are making a terrible mistake..." added to their invitation. Again I declined. Shaking their heads, Mr. Darfey handed me 4 mini snicker bars with a look in his eye that told me I'd better not refuse the offer. I thanked them both, smiled broadly, and told them to have a great day as they pulled away. Immediately I unwrapped and ate all 4 bars as the snow kept falling. The remainder of my morning was spent periodically swinging my arms, and generally walking at an accelerated pace. The snow stopped shortly and although the skies were overcast and threatening, nothing wet came from them for a few more hours. By that time I had descended the Henry's to Butler Wash and began my short climb out of the wash to an old road above. The sky began to boom with thunder and gentle rain, but within a half hour, the thunder bellowed deeper and lightning began to flash on the horizon. I could see the storm heading my way quickly, and no sooner had I found a dense juniper and started into my lunch, the skies opened up and the rained poured down heavily. Lightning and thunder continued, flashing so closely I could not focus on the bolt, and the thunder cracked intensely. Growing a bit anxious, I I took my groundsheet and wrapped it over my head and around my legs, trying to trap what little warmth I had while sitting out the burst. Fifteen minutes later, the fury subsided, leaving the desert pleasantly fragrant and quite muddy. I trudged onward, glop sticking to my shoes and making each step a bit heavier. I followed dirt roads the rest of the afternoon and evening, crossing rain swollen washes and slipping along through the thick red mud.
Growing weary after a long day of hiking, I spotted a small overhang and excitedly climbed up to it in hopes of finding a sheltered camp for the evening. Luckily it was just large enough for me and my gear and most importantly, dry. As I was cooking dinner, the flood waters caught up -- a distant hum and then the front of the wave slipping over rocks and slowly filling pools before continuing downstream. It was kind of eerie to witness. As evening set in, the storm re-intensified and the channel
flow continued to increase. Suddenly I heard the whine of engines
coming upstream, and a group of 3 motorcycles appeared --- 2
riders in the stream channel and the other on the bank. It looked
to be a real struggle as they disappeared upcanyon.
As happy as I am to be experiencing a flood in canyon country, I am growing a bit trepidatious about attempting to cross the Dirty Devil River tomorrow. Along it's ~80 mile length there are countless drainages all of which are adding to its total water flow. Crossing could be quite a task, and I did not pack my water-wings. I suppose it is entirely possible that I will just have to wait until the increased flow subsides to cross safely. I have a few extra eats, so waiting a day would not be too uncomfortable. The other concerning factor is that of quicksand. With the increased rainfall the transition zones between water and shore are no doubt a gooey, shoe-sucking affair. Assuming I can cross tomorrow, I will undoubtedly use the high water road walk alternative route to make forward progress and stay out of the river corridor altogether. Before I turn in for the evening I should mention something about thunder in canyon country. It is amazing to hear it clap and then reverberate through the canyon corridors, its intensity seemingly amplified by the echoes and channeling of the sound as it dissipates. At times it seems you can actually feel it. A new and unique experience for me. Well, may the waters recede, the sun shine bright, and the mud dry out come morning...either that or I hope Noah is kind enough to pick up a smelly hiker. ~26 miles Brian A Merciful Devil, October 19th I left camp early this morning anxious to see what the situation was ~6 miles down canyon at the Dirty Devil River. The upper portion of Poison Spring Canyon was no longer running, but by mid-canyon a small flow of water resumed. I stopped at Poison Spring for some water. The spring itself flows directly from the sandstone wall and into a mortared catch basin which has a pipe on one side and an actual hinged metal door on the front. Certainly keeps the cattle out! Filling up with 2.5 gallons, I figured if I could cross the Dirty Devil immediately, I could dump some out, but if I needed to wait around a day, I'd have just enough to see me through. Continuing down canyon the yellow cottonwoods provided a nice contrast to the red canyon walls. I passed a few good panels of rock art as well, and then exited Poison Springs Canyon by climbing up a short grade and then dropping to the banks of the Dirty Devil River.
Retreating, I climbed to a highpoint for some lunch and to mull over my options. In the meantime, it was a fun to watch the variety of flotsam in the current, and I was surprised at the size of some of the logs floating by. Things definitely did not look good! I was 100% certain I would not be able to cross the river at the typical crossing, and did not have any confidence that simply waiting a day would change a damned thing. Despite not raining for nearly 15 hrs as far as I could discern the river had not receded a bit. Heading back to HWY 95 and road walking to Hite did not seem viable either, nor did the hopes that some gracious river runners would happen by and be able to give me a lift. I did eye a spot upcanyon that presented a possibility --- a long straight section that was moving fast, but for one reason or another did not seem near as threatening. After lunch I decided to check it out just for the sake of satisfying a curiosity. Getting to it looked to be a challenge in itself...a steep slope split by a rotten band of sandstone, which led to a thin shelf above the raging waters. Traversing delicately, I stopped above the cliffband and lowered my pack and trekking poles over a ~10 ft drop, and then cautiously downclimbed the crumbly rock. Rejoining my pack I made my way across the thin shelf and eventually dropped to the soggy banks of the river. I continued upcanyon for a few minutes to a sunny bench where I dropped my pack and waded out through the floodplain again. Some story as before, up to waist deep along the floodplain and then dropping precipitously into the main current. Discouraged, I staggered back to my pack through the skanky waters -- whole cow pies bobbing past in the flow. I have to say that water is my least favorite element. Other than for drinking and bathing, I find it wholly intimidating and most times an inconvenience --- whether falling from the sky, or blocking my path in a canyon, I find it a nuisance. I am not a swimmer by any stretch of the imagination, and flotation for me is a struggle to say the least...I am just skin and bones so I sink. So, what I am about to say should surprise you as much as it did me: I decided to build a raft. Worse case I would eat away some of the afternoon being creative, best case would be that I create a flotation device that I might deem worthy for my safety and actually get across. Slim chance, but what the hell.
Once completed I took my craft to the waist deep flood plain to christen it and she how she handled. I was happy to see that it did indeed float and when loaded with my body weight, did in fact support me. Strangely this idea was taking hold in my mind as being feasible. I would float across the flooding Dirty Devil. As soon as the idea came to me in its full recognition I began to shake rather violently -- probably more so in fear than new found confidence. Returning the craft to shore, I ate and drank a bit to calm down and then waded back to the swollen waters to scout out a good spot to launch. I found a swirling eddy that would allow me to get completely situated in the raft before to committing to the current. Returning to shore I went ahead and waterproofed the pack as best as I could, consolidating my gear and wrapping my `critical's' (sleeping bag, dry clothes, maps) into my groundsheet and tying it off. Not waterproof, but the best I could do. I then chugged a gallon of water, further committing myself to the plan. I put my pack on (sans hipbelt), and hauled the raft out across the floodplain and onto the edge of the launch eddy. Easing into the swirling waters I was delighted to see that my theory panned out, the rear brace did support the majority of the pack weight while also raising the front brace and sleeping pad float up so it rode higher in the water. The logs fit comfortably beneath my armpits and I was able to hang onto the willows along the shore. The eddy, as if trying to talk me out of the idea, kept me pinned against the edge of the main channel. I slowly worked my way out of the eddy, and was suddenly subject
to the full fury of the current. Losing grasp of the willows
I was launched into the current and heading downstream at a brisk
pace. Slightly panicked I starting kicking madly to work myself
towards the middle of the channel. Land Ho! My feet found a slippery purchase and I clambered out of the main channel into the waist deep floodplain, my trusty vessel still in one piece and my body shaking as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. I stumbled, a bit light headed and nauseous, across the ~30 yds of water to the dry sandy bank, where I dropped the raft, my pack, and then let out a triumphant and jubilant scream. I staggered about for a few minutes, still not completely convinced I had just made it across the river, laughing and shaking uncontrollably.
As you can imagine the rest of the day was pretty anti-climatic. I walked on the old road for a few miles before dropping into Hatch Canyon and finding an overhang for the night. Surprisingly Hatch Canyon is flowing as well. Most of the evening has been spent reflecting on the days events and the decisions that were made. Each time I scold myself for taking the risk, a broad grin spreads across my face, I shake my head, and I laugh. ~15 miles Brian Hustlin' to Hite, October 20th Awoke refreshed and set off down Hatch Canyon to the confluence with Fiddler Canyon. Heading up Fiddler for 5 meanders, I located the exit route and climbed to the rim...~750 ft in .10 miles. Nice and steep. A large cairn marked the descent.
Two miles further and I joined a road which I followed ~4 miles to HWY 95. Once at the HWY I had ~2 miles on the pavement to the Hite turnoff. After crossing the Colorado River on the HWY bridge, I cut xc and shaved a little distance and saved my feet the pain of a few miles of pavement and arrived at the Hite General Store at ~4 pm. I was happy to get my box and some treats from Brandt: a bag of cookies and a Louis L'Amour book which is set in Dark Canyon where I am heading tomorrow. Thanks Brandt on all accounts! An e-mail from Brandt also mentioned that the Dirty Devil peaked at 12,000 CFS and was running at 3,440 CFS as of this morning. I am not sure what it was at 3 pm on OCT 19, but I am probably pretty lucky to be alive. Justified reasoning has a funny way of only being right at the time, and incredibly wrong upon reflection! Re-packed, I did a load of restroom-laundry, finally able to get the sand and silt washed out of my clothes after nearly 2 weeks of continuous hiking. Not like the real thing, but helpful nonetheless. Despite multiple rinses and soaping's, my hair is still quite nasty. It looks as if my no-shower record of 14 days is going to fall along the Hayduke Trail. All records are eventually broken... Since the marina is closed due to low water in Reservoir Powell, this place is eerily deserted. Two picnic tables all to myself! I'll camp in the scrub tonight and head out early tomorrow morning. ~18 miles Brian
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Massive
walls and domes of sandstone were the standard visual treat for
the day, and my camp this evening is on a nice slab of slickrock,
the green ribbon of the canyon below with streaked walls, and
checkered domes on every horizon.
Shortly
I passed beneath an arch, and in a few more minutes I walked by
a good sized natural bridge before spooking a gaggle of wild turkeys.
The
Old Boulder HWY is the original route that connected the towns
of Boulder and Escalante that was suitable for wagon traffic.
As such, there a number of sections along the route where the
worn grooves of wagon wheels could be seen. 
After
loading up the packs we headed NE and dropped into Boulder Creek
which was flowing cold and strong. The next 3.5 hours were spent
bashing our way though dense willow thickets, wading in Boulder
Creek up to our waists, soaking in the scenery, and in general
having a really good time. 
After
entering The Gulch we took a short break, and then continued with
our planned exit --- a 30 ft Class 4 climb up a blocky pour-off.
Upon cresting the top of the pouroff, we continued upward, climbing
through ledges and up steep slabs of slickrock before finding
much easier terrain above.
From
the stock tank we again followed old piping eastward, over a few
rises and then into a shallow, broad drainage. Climbing from the
drainage we took a quick bearing and headed to a huge pouroff
via a narrow slot. The views south were impressive as always:
Fifty Mile Ridge, Navajo Mountain, the Escalante River corridor,
and the huge walls of the canyon below made for a scenic resting
spot.
Anyway,
we eventually emerged from the river corridor after ~6 miles at
Choprock Canyon and linked back into our original route --- a
great traverse along Kayenta ledges to Neon Canyon. The hiking
was exceptional, and easy compared to earlier in the day. A welcome
change as evening approach. Feeling quite fatigued, we descended
into Neon Canyon, dropped the packs, and walked upcanyon to check
out Golden Cathedral -- an improbable dual pouroff...basically
enormous eroded potholes in the roof of a huge alcove.
Something
more needs to be said about the constructed cattle trails of the
Escalante, they truly are works of art, historical remnants from
a bygone era. They are often chipped out of solid slickrock crossing
or ascending steep slabs, occasionally an old juniper log will
be pinned in place to hold rocky fill. To me they are a joy to
find and I hold them nearly equal to finding a set of Moqui steps
as both serve similar function, can make travel possible, and
are culturally significant. Thankfully though most of the cows
that once roamed the canyons of the Escalante are gone.
After
climbing the dune we navigated up to and across Scorpion, a broad
area of benchland between Twentyfive Mile Wash and Scorpion Gulch.
A few hours of mixed walking across sand and slickrock brought
us to our decent canyon that would lead us into Scorpion Gulch,
despite gusty winds and overcast skies the occasional views we
had into the Escalante corridor and side canyons were incredible.
At the foot of the side canyon in Scorpion Gulch we sauntered
upstream in hopes that the large spring might be flowing, it was
not so we ventured down canyon and came across a small guided
party. These are the first people we have seen since leaving Hwy
12 three days ago. We are now camped at a nice spot downcanyon
from them near a pothole and are back on schedule.
From
our camp in lower Scorpion Canyon we started the day by walking
back up canyon a few minutes to our exit. For much of our route
the ledge forming, river deposited Kayenta layer has been our
friend, today would be no exception. We gained Kayenta ledges
and traversed above the Wingate narrows of lower Scorpion Gulch
and made our way to the Scorpion horse trail high above the Escalante
River. Steve Allen, who wrote the bulk of the information we are
using, calls the Scorpion horse trail "the best ledge walk
in the Escalante." I could not agree more, though it appears
to be seldom used the tread is nice and easy to follow and all
along its length the Escalante River flows far below. Along the
trail we came to the huge sand dune by a rincon below George's
Camp Canyon and were glad that we did not have to climb up it.
On
top again we mostly walked across pleasant slickrock along the
Escalante rim to get to our decent route into Fool's Canyon. We
descended a beautiful Navajo slickrock rib with an old chiseled
horse ladder into a bowl and eventually, after a short 4th class
downclimb, reached the floor of Fool's Canyon. We then thrashed
against the grain of the flood bent brush and vegetation up canyon
for ten minutes to a large pool of water. An idyllic swim hole
but it seems that water has not flowed into the pool for sometime,
its surface covered with a thick film. Brian showed me how you
can throw rocks into such film and watch the film close back around
the newly created opening. We are camped above the pool at the
base of our exit route, another old cattle trail that looks improbable
from below. Camp is on durable and barefoot friendly slickrock.
We
got to camp early this afternoon and although we had three hours
left of light we decided to stay. A good thing as I have been
behind in taking care of my body, and have since been able to
catch up. Brian also has a stomach ache and I think welcomed the
rest.
Upon
cresting the saddle, we were treated to an expanse of slickrock
benchlands --- domes, drainages, and frozen waves of swirling
stone.
"I
walked under the bridge, feeling the sensuous pleasure of moving
through a wall of stone, wading through the stream that made the
opening, standing in shadow and looking back at the upstream canyon
bathed in morning light, the sparkling water, the varnished slickrock
walls, the fresh cool green of the cottonwoods, and pink and violet
plumes of tamarisk."
Just
a few minutes shy of reaching the Escalante River, we gathered
some water and then headed up a ~600 ft sand dune to the canyon
rim where we had stashed our cache 5 days earlier. Camp tonight
is in a shallow depression of slickrock, thankfully wind free
and relatively flat. We retrieved our cache buckets, so we at
least have some comfortable camp stools for the evening.
I
had hoped to make a decision by mid-morning as to whether we'd
continue on or head back to Escalante to trouble shoot my illness.
By 11 AM I had had enough (as I am sure Brandt had as well) of
second guessing every grumble and rumble from my stomach and made
the decision to pack up our gear and head off as originally planned.
We needed 6-7 hrs to get where we needed to be for the night and
it took us an hour to pack, re-cache the buckets (for later removal)
and make our way down the Crack in the Wall --- lowering our packs
~40 ft to the sandy dune below and then down climbing the route
we'd climbed up the previous evening.
Shortly
we left the Hayduke Trail and entered Steven's Canyon, a place
that Brandt and I have long wanted to visit. We made our way slowly
upcanyon through the typical thickets of willow and tamarisk.
Occasional patches of poison ivy kept our attention as we meandered
along criss-crossing the flowing creekbed.
A
few narrow sections, nice pools, deep undercut meanders and towering
canyon walls made for pleasant walking. The going was a bit slow
as the canyon floor was muddy, and the wet slickrock had a thin
layer of slippery goo. The 3 miles took us nearly 3 hours, before
we emerged into the sunshine to eat lunch beneath a nice cottonwood
and dry out a bit. Scattered about our lunch spot were some cowboy
relics.
By
early evening we had reached the junction to the Overlook which
left ~4-5 miles to our goal of Muley Tanks for camp. Tired and
a bit delirious we pushed on, eventually finding a cattle route/old
two track that basically led us to a the tanks (series of large
slickrock potholes) an hour before sunset.
Just
kidding, to the east of Halls Creek is a long escarpment, rather
attractive, and I have found myself wishing I knew more about
its geological content. While to the west is the Waterpocket Fold.
We have walked by the mouths of many canyons that look inviting
and someday I hope to return and explore some of them. 
Shortly
we headed into the canyon, ~14 miles from where Brandt and I would
part ways. The canyon itself is pretty unique as it runs north
to south and splits the fins of the reef during its course. As
such, very large walls enclose the canyon, and it was pleasant
to be walking in the shade most of the day. Adding to the intrigue
of Lower Muley Twist is also the fact that early cattlemen ran
wagons full of supplies through a good portion of its length,
and their inscriptions can be seen throughout the canyon. D. Allen,
1881 was the oldest one we saw, but most were 1921-1924. Axle
grease seems to last awhile...
Continuing
upcanyon I arrived at my planned stopping point for the night,
a dismally poor spring near the head of the canyon. Camp tonight
is beneath a nice juniper with plenty of soft duff --- which has
been unavailable for sometime. A playful Raven keeps buzzing my
camp, circling overhead and bombing me. I looked around for a
nest, but did not find one, so I am pretty sure it is all in good
fun. As long as I react, it continues with the game.
Looking
back towards Capitol Reef was quite stunning and the added elevation
afforded a different perspective than the previous days walking
below and through the reef. The scale of the entire uplift was
much more relevant as it stretched south and north as far as I
could see... a seemingly continuous band of domes, towers, and
colorful convolutions. 
Following
the drainage I could easily discern my exit route to Tarantula
Mesa, a steep slope of crumbly earth and loose rock. The authors
make the recommendation to only attempt this route as a descent
due to the steep and loose nature of the terrain, and also forewarn
of having to use rope to haul packs. 
Following
the creek in Sweetwater Canyon quickly became a major chore despite
the cool flowing water and the changing colors of the willows
along the creek. As it narrowed, I was forced to either bushwhack
and boulder hop in the main channel, or hike the sidehill just
above the creek which was quite steep and treacherously loose.
Most of the time I stayed in the creek but had to ascend very
steep, loose, rotten rock slopes to skirt two pouroffs during
my struggle up the canyon. Although not miserable, it was generally
unpleasant and if I was to do it again, I'd opt for ascending
a pinyon and juniper lined ridge to either side of the creek.
I eventually emerged a few hours later at a dirt road and made
camp a short distance off the road.
Since
the storm was blowing from the south, I opted for the northbound
route --- despite being higher elevation having the storm at my
back is generally my preference. The rain intensified as did the
wind, but shortly the gusts died down as the temperature dropped
and the stinging rain turned white and began to collect on slopes
above me. The initial novelty of having snow fall was quickly
disregarded as I hurried my pace to keep my body temp up and make
every effort I could to get to a lower elevation. 
Shivering,
I said goodbye and got walking again, anxious to rebuild the heat
I'd lost during our conversation. I finally rounded a corner and
crested 10,500 ft Bull Creek Pass under still snowy skies. 
Around
4 pm I crossed HWY 95 and continued down Poison Springs Canyon.
Crazily there is a graded dirt road in the lower portion of Poison
Springs Canyon and, like hiking trails, when it rains the road
becomes the channel for water movement. Although only 1-2 inches
(but 4-6 ft wide) deep, it was interesting to walk along and through
the flood waters, each canyon I passed adding a little more to
the overall flow. Strangely, at some point I actually passed the
beginning of the flood waters and was walking dry road in front
of the flood! 
The
evening has continued to be quite a show. The creek continues
to rise as the rain continues to fall, and the pouroffs from the
cliffs above are all active --- sending steady streams of water
and the occasional boulder shooting over the edge. Poison Springs
is flowing so strongly that I can hear the subdued clanking of
stones moving downstream with the flow of water.
My
worst fears (and then some!) were confirmed as the river was incredibly
swollen...just about filling the entire canyon corridor, and the
central channel appeared quite swift. Swallowing hard, I edged
out into the water-covered flood plain to check depth and get
a feel for the current. The flood plain was ~30-50 yds wide on
each side of the river, and was anywhere from ankle to waist deep.
The flow was steady and a jumble of debris was caught in the tamarisk,
willow, and sage that normally line the banks of the river. I
managed to get within ~10 yds of the main channel and was amazed
to see the volume of water going by. 
I
found a few sizeable chunks of driftwood and hauled them back
to shore. After wrapping my trekking poles with my foam sleeping
pads for additional flotation (yeah I am using 2 pads) I lashed
the poles horizontally across the logs with enough distance between
them for my body and pack to fit. My theory was that the pack
would be on my back with its bottom resting on the rear trekking
pole brace, while the two logs were lashed shoulder width apart.
When in the craft, the logs would support me beneath my armpits,
and my feet would dangle in the current...kicking wildly to provide
propulsion. In addition, with the pack riding on the rear brace
it would effectively be supported, leaving my upper body relatively
free for paddling, grabbing at plants on the shore, or for clasping
together for a final prayer as I drown. 
Eventually
I gathered myself and unlashed the trekking poles from the logs
and disassembled my raft. Carrying the logs back across the floodplain
to the main current, I thanked them both and threw them back into
the current. They deserved an adventure of their own instead of
becoming a part of someone's bonfire.
On
the rim, I took a quick inventory of landmarks and set off across
the Red Benches. Crossing drainages, walking ridges, and finding
a few monstrous cairns, I eventually made my way to the downclimb
into Rock Canyon. Lowering my pack ~30 ft, I followed down the
awkward crack to a shelf above the canyon floor. A short descent
down ledges and talus brought me to the muddy bed of Rock Canyon.
Back
in 2002, Brandt and I did a 7 day hike in this same area, so I
was familiar with the route out of Fiddler, across the Red Benches,
and down to Rock Canyon. Although I did a different route across
the benches, the terrain seemed familiar so the going was easy.
