Iceaxe
09-05-2006, 10:04 AM
Taking shot in the slot
Since Aron Ralston's ordeal, Blue John Canyon draws many
By Scott Willoughby
Denver Post Staff Writer
Blue John Canyon, Utah - We had been back in camp for about half an hour when the Bureau of Land Management ranger pulled up just before 7 p.m. and asked about the green Subaru Outback that had mysteriously materialized in our absence.
Up to that point, the car - tagged with Colorado plates, loaded with all the accoutrements of desert adventure and parked smack dab in the middle of our campsite - had been little more than a minor annoyance. Suddenly it was cause for concern.
The young ranger had crossed paths with the vehicle's three passengers the day before, as they practiced ascending a nearby cliff and discussed their plan to do what these days might loosely qualify as the "Ralston Route" through the Main Fork of Blue John Canyon in the harsh Utah desert.
As the ranger understood it, the trio had planned to descend the slot canyon made famous three years ago when Aron Ralston of Aspen was trapped there for five days beneath a fallen boulder before cutting off his right hand with a pocketknife and hiking out. This group's plan, he said, was to complete the route - including the 65-foot rappel down to view the fabled petroglyphs of Horseshoe Canyon - then climb back out and return through the technical slots of Blue John.
"I told them it sounded pretty ambitious," the ranger said. "After rethinking it, I probably should have told them not to even try it. It's too much."
He described the trio as young and fit, adding that they seemed to have all the necessary equipment for a long day in canyon country.
"But if they don't make it before dark, would you mind coming down to the ranger station and letting me know?" he asked. "Not that we're going to be able to do anything before morning."
As it turns out, the threesome also was educated about the potential hazards they might face in the increasingly popular pursuit known as "technical slot canyoneering." They got back to their car before dinner was cooked, after realizing the entire route was too big to take on.
But not everyone is as educated. According to a BLM ranger stationed at nearby Hans Flats - who requested anonymity - the remote slot canyons of the surrounding Colorado Plateau have become an attraction for many since the Ralston episode drew the likes of NBC's Tom Brokaw into the modern Western outdoor drama. Most who are familiar with the saga have reached their own conclusions about Ralston's actions. No matter their opinions of the person, the place draws attention.
"Since Aron Ralston? There are way more people," the ranger said. "That put this place on the map. Nobody had ever heard of it before, and then they see it on television."
There is no official count, so rangers rely on observation to tally the usage in the surrounding canyons. A key indicator is the number of rescues they are called in on, three of which took place in the past year.
"One guy - and he was a pretty old guy - tried to do Ralston's bike route up from Horseshoe. And he tried to do it just off of what he read in (Ralston's) book with no maps, no guide or anything," the ranger said, referring to the autobiographical account, "Between a Rock and a Hard Place."
The ranger added that the man required assistance after succumbing to fatigue.
"I think people don't really know what they're getting into out here," he said.
So what are they getting into?
In its simplest terms, "canyoneering" is the mere act of traveling through a canyon - as mellow as strolling down a streambed in sandals, or as extreme as a multi-day epic involving rappels, climbs and even the occasional swim. Technical canyoneering is the more specialized version of the sport that typically applies to the slot canyons found in places like the Colorado Plateau in Utah's canyonlands.
It requires specific equipment and techniques (primarily rope work), many of them the same as those employed by cavers and climbers, qualifying it as a sort of hybrid sport. But the sheer number of canyons and their varying technical diversity open the sport to people of all ages and skill levels, provided they understand the environment.
"I think, for me, it's just something new and exciting, like when I first started climbing or kayaking and I just got way into it," said Charlie Ebel of Eagle, who introduced his daughters, Riley, 13, and Sage, 11, to the activity a year ago. "There are some crossover skills, I guess. But I really am figuring it out as I go."
Start at right level
Because most slot canyons are essentially dry rivers (and not always entirely dry), river-runners like Ebel will notice a certain amount of overlap between the sports, only with rappels instead of rapids. And as with kayaking or rafting, canyoneering newbies need to begin at an appropriate degree of difficulty.
Once committing to a technical canyon, there often is no going back; the sport has been likened to "rappelling into a toilet bowl." And because of the remote nature of most technical canyons, most are not patrolled. That includes those around Blue John, which fall into overlapping jurisdiction between the BLM, Canyonlands National Park and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. As evidenced in the nearly week-long Ralston ordeal, self-rescue is a mandatory skill.
As the sport of canyoneering increases in popularity, so do the number of guide books and websites detailing routes in Utah's canyon country (Canyoneering.com is a popular one), although rangers warn that many are inaccurate or lacking in detail.
Adding to the puzzle is the decidedly tight-lipped community exploring the slots and doing its best to preserve their natural beauty.
Aron's legacy
Still, the modern folklore of the Ralston episode has qualified Blue John as a pilgrimage of sorts for the growing legion of canyoneers. Former Denver resident Kevin Midkiff made the trek down from his new home in Calgary, Alberta, to do the Blue John route with a group of friends from the surrounding region.
"Did you see where Ralston carved his name?" asked first-time slotter Chris Gerraro of Golden - the green Subaru's driver - upon hearing Midkiff's route.
"No, we were looking for it but couldn't figure out where it was," Midkiff said.
Rain and residual mud from big water flows have reportedly covered any traces of Ralston's ordeal. "But man, that was fun. I've never been in a slot like that, where it was so dark and narrow that you needed a headlamp," Midkiff said.
"I liked the slots in Blue John more, but I liked the whole canyon (in White Roost) better," Sage Ebel said after traversing the canyons without incident.
"They're all different," added her father. "That's one of the coolest parts."
http://www.denverpost.com/extremes/ci_4287126
Since Aron Ralston's ordeal, Blue John Canyon draws many
By Scott Willoughby
Denver Post Staff Writer
Blue John Canyon, Utah - We had been back in camp for about half an hour when the Bureau of Land Management ranger pulled up just before 7 p.m. and asked about the green Subaru Outback that had mysteriously materialized in our absence.
Up to that point, the car - tagged with Colorado plates, loaded with all the accoutrements of desert adventure and parked smack dab in the middle of our campsite - had been little more than a minor annoyance. Suddenly it was cause for concern.
The young ranger had crossed paths with the vehicle's three passengers the day before, as they practiced ascending a nearby cliff and discussed their plan to do what these days might loosely qualify as the "Ralston Route" through the Main Fork of Blue John Canyon in the harsh Utah desert.
As the ranger understood it, the trio had planned to descend the slot canyon made famous three years ago when Aron Ralston of Aspen was trapped there for five days beneath a fallen boulder before cutting off his right hand with a pocketknife and hiking out. This group's plan, he said, was to complete the route - including the 65-foot rappel down to view the fabled petroglyphs of Horseshoe Canyon - then climb back out and return through the technical slots of Blue John.
"I told them it sounded pretty ambitious," the ranger said. "After rethinking it, I probably should have told them not to even try it. It's too much."
He described the trio as young and fit, adding that they seemed to have all the necessary equipment for a long day in canyon country.
"But if they don't make it before dark, would you mind coming down to the ranger station and letting me know?" he asked. "Not that we're going to be able to do anything before morning."
As it turns out, the threesome also was educated about the potential hazards they might face in the increasingly popular pursuit known as "technical slot canyoneering." They got back to their car before dinner was cooked, after realizing the entire route was too big to take on.
But not everyone is as educated. According to a BLM ranger stationed at nearby Hans Flats - who requested anonymity - the remote slot canyons of the surrounding Colorado Plateau have become an attraction for many since the Ralston episode drew the likes of NBC's Tom Brokaw into the modern Western outdoor drama. Most who are familiar with the saga have reached their own conclusions about Ralston's actions. No matter their opinions of the person, the place draws attention.
"Since Aron Ralston? There are way more people," the ranger said. "That put this place on the map. Nobody had ever heard of it before, and then they see it on television."
There is no official count, so rangers rely on observation to tally the usage in the surrounding canyons. A key indicator is the number of rescues they are called in on, three of which took place in the past year.
"One guy - and he was a pretty old guy - tried to do Ralston's bike route up from Horseshoe. And he tried to do it just off of what he read in (Ralston's) book with no maps, no guide or anything," the ranger said, referring to the autobiographical account, "Between a Rock and a Hard Place."
The ranger added that the man required assistance after succumbing to fatigue.
"I think people don't really know what they're getting into out here," he said.
So what are they getting into?
In its simplest terms, "canyoneering" is the mere act of traveling through a canyon - as mellow as strolling down a streambed in sandals, or as extreme as a multi-day epic involving rappels, climbs and even the occasional swim. Technical canyoneering is the more specialized version of the sport that typically applies to the slot canyons found in places like the Colorado Plateau in Utah's canyonlands.
It requires specific equipment and techniques (primarily rope work), many of them the same as those employed by cavers and climbers, qualifying it as a sort of hybrid sport. But the sheer number of canyons and their varying technical diversity open the sport to people of all ages and skill levels, provided they understand the environment.
"I think, for me, it's just something new and exciting, like when I first started climbing or kayaking and I just got way into it," said Charlie Ebel of Eagle, who introduced his daughters, Riley, 13, and Sage, 11, to the activity a year ago. "There are some crossover skills, I guess. But I really am figuring it out as I go."
Start at right level
Because most slot canyons are essentially dry rivers (and not always entirely dry), river-runners like Ebel will notice a certain amount of overlap between the sports, only with rappels instead of rapids. And as with kayaking or rafting, canyoneering newbies need to begin at an appropriate degree of difficulty.
Once committing to a technical canyon, there often is no going back; the sport has been likened to "rappelling into a toilet bowl." And because of the remote nature of most technical canyons, most are not patrolled. That includes those around Blue John, which fall into overlapping jurisdiction between the BLM, Canyonlands National Park and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. As evidenced in the nearly week-long Ralston ordeal, self-rescue is a mandatory skill.
As the sport of canyoneering increases in popularity, so do the number of guide books and websites detailing routes in Utah's canyon country (Canyoneering.com is a popular one), although rangers warn that many are inaccurate or lacking in detail.
Adding to the puzzle is the decidedly tight-lipped community exploring the slots and doing its best to preserve their natural beauty.
Aron's legacy
Still, the modern folklore of the Ralston episode has qualified Blue John as a pilgrimage of sorts for the growing legion of canyoneers. Former Denver resident Kevin Midkiff made the trek down from his new home in Calgary, Alberta, to do the Blue John route with a group of friends from the surrounding region.
"Did you see where Ralston carved his name?" asked first-time slotter Chris Gerraro of Golden - the green Subaru's driver - upon hearing Midkiff's route.
"No, we were looking for it but couldn't figure out where it was," Midkiff said.
Rain and residual mud from big water flows have reportedly covered any traces of Ralston's ordeal. "But man, that was fun. I've never been in a slot like that, where it was so dark and narrow that you needed a headlamp," Midkiff said.
"I liked the slots in Blue John more, but I liked the whole canyon (in White Roost) better," Sage Ebel said after traversing the canyons without incident.
"They're all different," added her father. "That's one of the coolest parts."
http://www.denverpost.com/extremes/ci_4287126