Novices in Nature: Descent into adventure
Awesome article on Canyoneering in todays Salt lake Tribune.
http://www.sltrib.com/outdoors/ci_9551666
You might want to visit the link as it has lots of pictures, video and other extras....
Here is the extra's part I liked most....
Canyoneering resources and connections
- CanyoneeringUSA in Mt. Carmel, www.canyoneeringusa.com
-Climb-Utah Draper, www.climb-utah.com
:popcorn:
Canyoneering
Novices in Nature: Descent into adventure
By Maggie Thach and Roxana Orellana
The Salt Lake Tribune
ZION NATIONAL PARK - The 100-foot rappels, the 90-foot free hangs, the grueling hikes and the drops into 30-degree water were met with trepidation. But we did it. And we would do it again.
We trained for our canyoneering excursion in Zion National Park by hanging from a 10-foot branch and going over the edge of Dogwood, a popular climbing and rapelling area in Big Cottonwood Canyon, both of which were essential in mentally preparing ourselves. It took a couple of weeks to get to the point where we felt ready.
The scratches, abrasions and bruises on our arms and legs are reminders of our three-day excursion. But they are no indication of how physically and mentally exhausting the trip was.
Fear helped us recognize how far we can push ourselves and how invigorating that can feel for a couple of Novices in Nature.
Day 1
Between the Australian animal biologist, the Utah lawyer with a ton of canyoneering experience and the future emergency-room doctor, we had enough personalities to keep us entertained and feeling safe.
It also helped that no one laughed as I struggled to put on the unflattering dry suit. Disoriented by the heat, I squeezed my hands, feet and - most difficult of all - my head through the elastic tubing attached to the suit. It was like getting dressed as a child with my mother squeezing my head through the too-narrow, too-tight shirt collar and sleeves .
Two layers of fleece, a plastic egg-yolk-yellow dry suit and blue coveralls later, I was set. Of course there were also the helmet, the whistle, the gloves, the nifty dry high-top shoes and backpack to complete the outfit. I looked more like the fifth Ghostbuster who never made it in the movie than a canyoneer. But that's OK - it was not about the looks. It was just difficult to forget the layers covering my body after several miles of scrambling up and down dirt, water and rocks under the blazing sun.
- Roxana
I couldn't look over the edge. There was a 90-plus-foot rappel I had to go down, and my fear of heights would hinder me if I let it.
I closed my eyes as Steve Lewis - an avid canyoneer and the leader of our excursion - hooked my harness onto the anchors. This was the longest rappel yet, and it included a free hang, which means you can't press your feet against the wall to balance your body on the rope.
With my right hand, I held the rope tight and then began to clench my fist and loosen my grip rapidly as I lowered myself. My fear was creeping up my chest. I eased it by telling myself I was in control and that hanging from this single strand of 8-millimeter rope was the only way I could enjoy this unbelievable view in Pine Creek.
The rappels were the hardest part of the day. In a group with varying skills, I could see how fear could almost paralyze a person, but also how easily a rappel could be conquered. I found that Roxana and I were right in the middle of the group.
-Maggie
Day 2
The group had grown smaller by three people. It was no problem - it just meant a little more work and a faster pace, but just as much fun. To get anywhere in a canyon, you have to hike or more like scramble your own path.
Up, down, sideways, backward, forward using hands, legs, elbows, knees, bottom and belly. This is no stroll in the park. It helps to be fit. I attribute my survival to my brain's ability to remember the endurance I once had during my college cross-country running days.
Hiking up the slanted dunes of rock for hours under the heat made me question my sanity at times. I could tell Maggie also had questions of her own.
We hiked into the canyon from below and made our way to the top at a steep angle. We took breaks underneath ponderosa pines that greeted us with their aromas of butterscotch and vanilla.
Taking a moment to look back at the magnificence of colors in the landscape, I felt as strong and mighty as the small resilient flowers growing in the cracks between the mountains of rock. The budding cactus, the menacing yuccas and delicate cryptobiotic soil could have not have been in a better place.
Up on a hill, the rock art of earlier generations showed scenes from their everyday lives. I made a mental note on nature's ability to preserve us and tell our stories long after we have vanished.
- Roxana
The group went on eight rappels in Spry Canyon and the first one was a tandem - where two people go down at once. I went with Roxana
It was vital that we kept the same amount of weight on each side of the rope. I felt so far to the right of the anchor, I thought I would swing across Roxana so I was eager to get down fast, not realizing I was throwing off her equilibrium.
Still, that was not the toughest rappel of the day, at least for me. On our fourth rappel, I zipped down about three-quarters of the way and I didn't realize my hand was so close to the rapelling device. I was going so fast I didn't have time to react when my glove got tangled in the device.
I was stuck. Panic set in. I knew no one would let me fall, but the helplessness got to me.
"What's going on?" I heard Roxana ask from the top.
"Just hanging out," I replied.
"Hang in there. Don't move."
I wanted to get upset and start crying but Roxana's words made the situation a little more lighthearted. I was also thinking: "I can't be the one to cry. I can't be the wuss of us two."
Steve had to come down on a separate rope and help me take some of the pressure off my rope to loosen the glove. I got down only after 20 minutes of "hanging out" and experiencing a numbness in my legs so intense I just wanted to cut them off.
- Maggie
Day 3
Too sore to feel any pain or discomfort, I joined the group of nine in what would be the culmination of our three 12-hour days of canyoneering.
Only three of us would take on the three 90-foot rappels in Russell Gulch. Maggie, Steve and myself went our separate way, while the rest of the group hiked to meet us at the bottom of the last rappel.
It didn't hit me until we reached the first drop that one of us would have to either be the first or last to go down the rope. It was time to gear up and squeeze ourselves into the wet suits. I felt the way a sleeping bag must feel when you shove it into a bag that's just too small.
"I'm taking some risk here, but I trust you ladies," Steve said while he got on the rope and disappeared down the drop.
Maggie and I looked at each other wondering who was crazier, him or us. "Can I go next?" Maggie asked me with a look of fleeting confidence.
As the last to go, I was responsible for making sure the rope was not tangled or twisted so it could be pulled at the bottom without getting stuck. A stuck rope meant no way down the canyon.
Alone at the top, hooking myself to the anchor, I tried to quiet the racing thoughts in my head.
"I've done this a million times. This is easy."
But I knew neither was true.
If presented with an invitation to canyoneering again, I wouldn't think twice - I'd just say yes. Canyoneering is the kind of activity that leaves you wanting more because it gives you an understanding of your own strength, both physical and emotional.
And what better way to learn about yourself than in a not-so comfortable and unfamiliar setting.
- Roxana
Keyhole Falls, with its small archways and hidden pools, was beautiful. But the high point was getting to the Subway, which consists of a cavernous corridor and some pools of rushing water.
The beauty of Subway was short-lived, though. It was only about 100 yards long, and besides some sloping rocks with strong streams of water flowing, which we slid down like a waterslide (our wetsuits made the ride a lot smoother), we were soon thrusted into a grueling 4.5-mile hike.
Jumping over rocks, ducking through brush and branches, and dodging all the frogs that sprinkled the landscape were all a part of the hike.
Except, I didn't do too good of a job of that last part. I put my hand on a giant rock in front of me and put all my weight on that hand to jump down, only to find out I had completely squashed a frog. I looked under my hand and saw the frog was completely flat, from its middle to its end.
"What was that screaming?" someone from our group asked.
"It was Maggie. She squished a frog," replied another group member.
It was a traumatizing experience, but what was more distressing was how much further we had to go.
"How much longer?" I asked Steve.
"Just keep putting one foot in front of the other," he said.
We did that until we reached the foot of the mountain, one we had to climb to get to our cars at the top.
Thinking it was a small hill, Roxana said she was going to jog the whole way. I scoffed in reply. The mountain was so steep we had climb in a zig-zag to get up.
When we did, Roxana and I linked arms and ran across the threshold that separated nature and the parking lot. We were ecstatic to be finished but utterly exhausted.
It was amazing to realize what we had accomplished in the last three days. I always hear about how people have a relationship with nature and I never understood what that meant until after this trip. I view the outdoors from a totally different standpoint now. I know how dangerous the outdoors can be if you are not prepared, but I also know how beautiful and awe-inspiring it can be, too.
Canyoneering is more than rapelling and hiking. It forces you to be aware of your surroundings, to look out for the other members of your group and to push yourself. But, all of that comes with a big payoff.
-Maggie
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