Three Weeks in the Canyons

Roaring Canyons 2025 Blog Post #3

At the end of our last blog post we were in Moab, Utah for a three night layover during which we reshuffled our gear and packed the food for our three week backpacking and canyoneering expedition.  Inspired and excited from our sunrise hike to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park, we loaded up in the van and drove over the mesa tops and through the canyons of southeast Utah.
Part I: The Approach

Driving into Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, we were in awe of the Colorado River, which appeared to be transporting even more sediment than our old friend the Green.  As Norah put it, “Even more grit than the grits we sometimes eat for breakfast!”  After unloading our backpacks from the top of the van, we set off up the Dirty Devil river, from its confluence with the Colorado.Our first day of hiking took us to the top of Alcove Amble, a technical slot canyon that would require ropes, harnesses, helmets, and plenty of determination to explore.  The next morning we woke up eager to take on this challenge, but our first mission was to find potable water.  (The Dirty Devil itself was also full of silt, and rumored to contain traces of arsenic and other heavy metals).  We found a small pothole of relatively clear rainwater and filled our 10 liter water bags.  After caching these back at camp, we scrambled down into the slot and were soon at the start of our first rappel, which included a short overhanging section.

Many of us weren’t expecting this, particularly Clara Rose who someone ended up on her stomach and Dayal, who swung upside down.  (Everyone made it down safely).  We had two more rappels that day.  The first one was 79 feet tall and deposited us into a deep slot.  After passing through a beautiful, smooth walled section, the final rappel granted us access to a mystical grotto where a few lush trees grew, protected by the canyon walls from the sun and winds above.

As we attempted to continue north the next day, we encountered Scar Tissue Canyon, an unexpectedly deep slot that had been impossible to identify by studying the map in advance.  If we wanted to continue, we had to find a way to climb down to the bottom, and then up the other side.  We sent scouting parties west to the river and east as far as the sheer walls that towered above us.  We eventually found a way to scurry down, travel up the slot a bit, and then scramble out on the north side with Dave and Caleb spotting.  That night we lay safe and warm in our sleeping bags as rain lashed our tents and lightning struck the mesa tops above us.  In the one clear patch of sky we could see the Big Dipper and North Star, beckoning us on.

In the morning we continued along the bench we were on under ominous clouds.  Lightning split the sky to the north, and rain dampened our matching red sun shirts, but the hot desert breeze dried our clothes as we hiked.  We sought out patches of mineral soil to travel on, trying to avoid crushing the omnipresent cryptobiotic crust that is the foundation of the southern Utah ecosystem.  At this point we were 200 feet above the river, but still about 600 feet below the rim.  Ahead, we could see that the bench we were traveling on eventually ended.  We discussed the prospect of being forced to turn around and hike three days back to the road.  

Despite the long odds of finding a way down to the river in order to be able to continue North, the group elected to push on.  At the last possible juncture we found a way down into an unnamed slot and from there into the Dirty Devil bottom itself.  The knowing smiles of the instructors should have been ample warning.  We may have descended from the frying pan, but now we were in the fire.  The nature of the travel changed drastically as we found ourselves bushwhacking through dense Tamarisk and thorny Russian Olive, two invasive species that are ubiquitous in the canyons of the Colorado Plateau.   To top it off, when we arrived at camp we were again out of water.  As the rest of us put up tents and started to prepare dinner, Charlie, Daniel, and Caleb set out to find drinking water, only returning well after dark.  We went to bed well fed and well hydrated, but were blissfully unaware of the challenges that still lay ahead.

After another difficult day of travel along the river bottom the group had to make a potentially high consequence decision.  Our planned route was to ascend Happy Canyon to arrive at our resupply, but we weren’t 100% sure that this was even possible.  If our path was blocked by sheer cliffs, then we would face the prospect of a multi-day retreat with little to no food left.  We sat down to come to a consensus.  Initially all of the students except one were in favor of attempting to go East up Happy Canyon, but after a long discussion, the group was pretty evenly divided.  We eventually decided to reroute to the West, up Poison Spring Canyon, which has an extremely rough dirt “road” running through it.  The new plan allowed for a layover day, during which we make a beautiful 18 mile day hike to see the Happy Canyon Narrows, which were breath taking.

After another long day or travel under a hot sun and heavy packs we rendezvoused with Zoe, who shuttled us to Granary Springs, where we planned to layover for several days.  As we drove, the sun set over the Henry Mountains.  As the van crept along the badly washboarded dirt road in the pitch darkness, we found ourselves driving through a herd of skittish black cows.

Part II: The Motel 6

With almost no permanent inhabitants, the area inbetween Hanksville and Moab is one of the darkest places in the Lower 48.  Arriving at Granary Springs at 8:00PM, the only thing visible was a long abandoned shack with the words “Motel 6” spray-painted across its corrugated tin facade.  Those of us hoping for a hot tub, or at least of hot shower, were disappointed.  In fact, as we exited the van we realized quickly that while we drove the temperature outside had dropped to near freezing.  We hustled to pull headlamps, puffy jackets, and puffy pants from our packs.  After a quick dinner and camp set up, everyone was happy to crawl into their sleeping bags.

During our time at the Motel 6, we explored the Little West Fork, East Fork, Main Fork, and West Fork of Blue John Canyon, each a technical endeavor in its own right.

Little West Fork: We approached the canyon by hiking several miles North on a dirt road, with clear views of the Henrys to the West and the Las Sals to the East.  Leaving the road behind, we hiked across a nearly featureless mesa top to the first of three rappels.  Each rappel was less than 70 feet tall, but all included some tricky sections.  Some students pushed through intense fear of heights, and all gained new skills a knowledge for traveling in technical terrain.  We sang while waiting for others to finish rappelling, appreciating the amazing acoustics of the hidden chambers we found ourselves in.

East Fork:  With a long walk down a wash and across a field we made our way into the East Fork.  The canyon became very tight and dark with minimal space to move your body.  There were difficult climbs over intricately placed rocks chocked between the walls of the slot.  We weren’t certain if we were even in the intended fork for some time, and eventually encountered many pools of cold, opaque water that got progressively deeper and deeper. 

We rigged a single rope rappel into a chest deep pothole that each person exited by rappelling off the end of the rope.  Some of us managed to climb out of the pool gracefully.  Others executed a “beached whale” maneuver.  The next challenge was a series of squeezes and a long stretch to neck deep water.  Some of us even found ourselves swimming. 

The last obstacle was a short down climb that required the use of a hand line.  Cold and wet, we paused in the sun every chance we got as the canyon opened up.  Exiting the East Fork, we ascended the West Fork, which culminated with a 30 foot rock climb.  Dave used a hip belay to guard us against falls.  We arrived back at camp after dark.  After the eventful day (and a hot, calorie-packed dinner) we all slept deeply.

Part III: Robbers’ Roost

Departing the relative comfort of the Motel 6 and its reliable spring, we had our first day of independent student travel, backpacking through the desert.  Everything went smoothly and we met up with Zoe a mile from our camp to get another week’s worth of food and the next set of maps.  We camped for the next four nights at Robbers’ Roost Springs, where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid successfully hid out after numerous bank and train robberies.  Luckily, we didn’t stumble on any of the booby traps they were rumored to have placed to deter would-be captors.

The next day we set our sights on Not Mind-bender slot canyon.  Our day started with a breakfast surprise.  The dehydrated milk (“cow pow”) that the cooks reconstituted to go with the granola somehow changed consistency until it resembled feta cheese.  Unsurprisingly, the hungry canyoneers still ate it all….  The start of the slot was about four miles from camp.  At the begining the canyon was very tight; squeezing through the slot while trying to maneuver up and down climbs was tricky but fun.  At the first big down climb we used Caleb as a “meat anchor,” attaching the rope directly to his harness so he could counter balance us as we slid down the featureless rock.  After a short open section we came to a rappel anchor that was nothing more than a looped piece of webbing protruding from the sand.  We eyed it dubiously as Dave inspected the webbing and informed us that this particular type of anchor, a “dead man,” or buried object, was considered an acceptable technique.  Nevertheless, he instructed us to reinforce the anchor by taking turns sitting on it as each person rappelled.

This is when I started to notice that my equipment had suffered some “battle wounds.”  One shoelace had snapped, I had a giant hole in the back of my sun shirt, the back pockets of my quick dry pants no longer existed, and my day pack was more or less shredded.  The canyons are no joke.  Apologies from the canyons to parents regarding any gear you invested in that ended up going down multiple slots.  From the bottom of the Dead Man Rappel we continued, walking in the dark through a particularly foul pool of water.  Some students reported seeing a dead rat floating here.  RIP.  

After walking through an open section of the canyon with some sun finally shining through the clouds, we came to a rappel that none of us were expecting:

The Free Hanging Rappel

Dylan:  To me a free hanging rappel is both stomach churning and one of the coolest things to have ever done!  The feeling of being suspended in the air by a rope no thicker than my thumb makes me feel speechless and is really weird to think about.  I love the sensation of my stomach dropping on roller coasters and other carnival rides, and to me that’s like a free hanging rappel.  A feeling of hope, dread, and uncertainty because I am unsure that Charlie is actually holding the end of the rope for a fire fighters’ belay.  [Editor’s note: he was.]

Dayal:  As you approach the edge, a few things go through your mind, some of which may be said out loud:
“What the heck am I doing here?’
“Is there another way down?”
“I hate this.  Why am I here?”
“Is this my time to go?”
“I should stay positive.  I’m going to have a blast!  That’s not true at all. I can’t do this.  Yes you can, you have no other option!”

You force yourself to take baby steps to the edge, and then lower yourself over.  The other students agree that at this point the worst is over.  Not you, though!  That part’s not over for you until you hit home sweet ground.  As you let the rope slowly slip through your hands, every once and a while your fingers get close to the metal rappel device, which has enough heat radiating off of it to bake a cake, or so it seems.  Your brain starts to spiral again.   The others are saying “trust the rope,” and “enjoy the view.”  “Listen,” you say, “I will take all of it in once my two feet are safely planted on the ground.  As you continue down your harness starts to dig into your hips and your hands start to ache from over gripping the rope.  When your feet first touch the ground, you have an immediate feeling of relief.  You did it!  It’s all over now, never again do you have to literally walk off a cliff. And then you have a moment to relax, and that’s when you realize that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.  Type 2 fun.

After this great day of adventure, we walked back to camp after sunset, but the full moon provided so much light that no one had to use their headlamp.

The next day was one of our most eventful.  We left our lovely camp at Robbers’ Roost Springs and headed down the Middle Fork of the Robbers’ Roost canyon complex.  We soon found ourselves standing above a 180 foot drop.  This would be our longest rappel yet, and one we would have to do with our full packs on our backs.  (The topography of the rappel was such that our original plan to lower the packs separately clearly wasn’t going to be an option.)  We had to rig chest harnesses in order to keep from flipping upside down in mid air with the added weight of the pack.  The rappel had three separate ledges to overcome, the last of which was overhanging.  With your pack pulling you backward, you had to rely on your arms and core to stay upright on the single strand of rope.

After the last person made it to the ground, it was time to pull the rope and tag line.  10 of the 11 of us used clove hitches to tie the line to our harnesses, and we all heaved backwards in unison.  Again.  And again.  We pulled hard enough that Dave and Caleb, with a combined weight of almost 400 pounds, were floating several feet in the air, but all of our efforts were to no avail.  The rappel was too long and there was too much friction on the ropes.  Both of our ropes were hopelessly stuck, and we were forced to leave them behind.  We set off down canyon hoping that we wouldn’t encounter any more rappels before we regained the river bottom. 

Part IV: Our Outdoor Leadership Final Exam: The Independent Student Group Expedition (ISGE)

The 3.5 Rules of Kroka ISGE
By: Dave Durant

Rule 0.5: The Code of Conduct is still in effect
Rule 1: Stick together, and take care of each other.  Your strength lies in the group
Rule 2: Stick to the (written travel) plan
Rule 3: Don’t screw up and die

Day 1 (9 miles): Dylan and I were the Leaders of the Day, with plenty of walking through the wash out to reunite with the Dirty Devil.  We experienced quicksand, but had an early night and a frost in the morning.  We found good water in a few puddles, but later discovered a few friends (mosquito larvae) in our water bottles.

Day 2 (6.5 miles): The LODs were Clara Rose and Dayal.  Our walk up the Dirty Devil continued, and we encountered A LOT of quick sand.  Dayal sunk waist deep and needed Zahava’s help to get unstuck.  Once we made it to camp we sent out Lily, Charlie, and Dylan on a water mission.  At first they were unsuccessful, but eventually they found some water that contained some plant elements.  Some said the tasting profile had notes of mulch, or compost.

Day 3 (5 miles): Norah and Charlie were LODs.  With a morning sleep in, we started our day chilly, and got some more “plant water.”  We had a long day, climbing up to the mesa tops and hiking along overlooking the river.  Once we descended back to the Dirty Devil, we did plenty of bushwhacking then walked through calf deep mud and trudged to our camp where we ate delicious (if somewhat sandy) Rababu (rice and lentils).

Day 4 (5 miles): Lily was our last LOD.  We woke at 6:00am to a warm pot of Kasha and a cold frost.  All of our shoes were frozen solid, and we had trouble getting them onto our feet.  Once we did, there was lots of dancing around to warm up.  Our first river crossing of the day was painfully cold.  After the crossing we bushwhacked and trudged through deep, thick mud and made our way back to the mesa top.  As we got closer to town, there was a proliferation of private property.  We ended up using the road for the last mile to the Post Office, where Caleb and Dave were waiting.  We were early, and had plenty of time to debrief our Independent Expedition before Zoe picked us up and drove us to Goblin Valley State Park and some much needed showers, laundry, fruit, and vegetables. 

Quicksand Haikus

Seemingly solid
Shakes and wobbles
Then sucks you in deep
-Lily

A squishy substance
Squelches between my ten toes
A grin on my face
-Dylan

Until next time, Your scribe,

Lucy