— October 7, 2006 —
Day 3: Neon Canyon

We awoke to a crisp morning with clear blue skies—not a cloud in sight—and the large harvest moon was sinking in the sky. It was very reassuring. The water level in Neon had dropped a fair bit but still had a pretty good flow through it. The sandbar and the cottonwood, in the bend near our camp, had at last completely emerged. Neon would be exciting today ... full of water and still flowing. As I took my morning ‘hike,’ I had a vantage point of the Escalante, which had decreased some but was still raging strongly. Some of the higher parts of the flood plain were exposed, but the main channel was still quite overflowed and still well overhead. The enormous harvest moon sat right above the morning sunlit western canyon walls.

It was a beautiful morning.

We made our way out of camp and traversed the wingate layer rim of Neon’s slot to its upper reaches. We passed sidecanyon after sidecanyon, until we reached the divide between the two sidecanyons where we scouted our entrance two days earlier. We knew this would access the uppermost slot because Nat previously had descended this canyon all the way from its head in the Circle Cliffs and had camped right before the first slot in the main canyon. Our scouted route provided quick access into the very lower section of one of the sidecanyons that merged with the canyon directly above the slot, requiring no rappel.

Dropping into this canyon, we wasted no time and put on our wetsuits and harnesses, got our gear in order, and had a small bit to eat. We quickly reached the main fork of Neon and water was still flowing pretty well. Within the beginning of the first slot, there is a rappel off a log which spans a chasm from a drop. The drop was a rushing waterfall, filling the chamber with sound. The rap off the log was right into a channel with water deep enough that it required one to swim—what is commonly referred to as a swimmer. What we would find today was that the slots in Neon canyon were literally teeming with swimmers. High up in the canyon we encountered one section of thick log soup which had inundated a tight section of slot. After clearing a path into the slot, Nat stemmed over, while I was able to push my way through the debris to the other side. A little taste of what was to come in the infamous grim section of the canyon to the north.

Descending slot canyons is often an experience that is difficult to describe. Here the canyon walls undulate, sometimes very narrow, sometimes wider, sometimes rough and rugged, sometimes beautifully sculpted and convoluted. You are locked in a slot of canyon 20–50 feet deep or more. The channel which forms the main floor, on average, is not a very steep grade but locally fluctuates with basins of rock or sand, short tight slit–like channels with benches on which you can walk, or deep tight narrows which often present instantly, requiring you to slowly downclimb therein, using friction and stemming of your body from one wall to the other. Depending upon recent rains, the basins and slots can hold various amounts of water and, at times, can be bone dry.

But today every section of slot was exceedingly full, so that water filled every basin and deep channel, poured down every chute, and passed through the few wonderful natural bridges that grace this celebrated canyon. The movement and splashing of the water, together on its own volition and by our force, filled the slot chambers, somehow making it feel less lonesome. Swimming or barely touching toes to the sandy/rocky floor seemed to be the norm in many long sections of tight narrows, as well as many wide narrows. It was simply amazing. And although I had a camera (which indicated it had problems reading the battery ... possibly low?) the vast stretches of water and swimming caused me to be less inclined to extract it from its waterproof case. More importantly, the days are short in October, the water cold, and, starting from upper Neon, the descent is long, especially with all of the swimming.

Late in the day we reached the lower part of the canyon, a wide spot where many folks descend to do the last slot and the celebrated rappel through the Golden Cathedral. We sat in the last bit of sun and had some water and a little snack before continuing on. The final slot is quite spectacular as it begins with a rappel down a chute which, at the time, was a gushing waterfall. The webbing around the chockstone there was thrashed and needed to be replaced, especially after the flooding. The rappel was into a swimmer with noticeably cold water late in the day.

We continued on through the deep and convoluted narrow slot and arrived at the Golden Cathedral. There was an amazing mess of webbing of at least 5–6 different colors, including a stubby piece of wood. I cut off a large chunk of unnecessary webbing, and Nat added a long sling to extend the present anchor farther into the descending chute for an easier rope pull. All the time water and sound rushed around us and down the cathedral falls. I went first, engaged on the rope, and downclimbed the chute to get on rappel. In the middle of the chute water rushed around my feet and I was staring down at the pool below, very excited. With my pack dangling from my harness, I slowly descended the 70 ft mostly free rappel, reveling in the marvelous chamber, with water patting down upon my helmet.

After Nat rappelled down, we coiled the ropes and walked the water–laden, narrow canyon back to camp. The vibrant yellow of the tall and abundant poison ivy littered the lower canyon, making choices interesting with the unusually deep water. It had been an wonderful day—would we be looked upon favorably with another beautiful day for Choprock? After enjoying dinner and a beverage, we tried to get some sleep before another long day. Of course, for another night, I did not get much sleep. Not sure if it was the moon, the flood, or the excitement ...

— October 8, 2006 —
Day 4: Choprock Canyon

Another crisp clear morning with blue skies and a large moon welcomed us, and the day was ON! My morning hike revealed that the Escalante had substantially lowered, making our return to the car possible. How much flow would Choprock have, we wondered. After breakfast, we retraced our path for the most part to the drop–in point for Choprock, from the top of a tall mesa, with spectacular vistas in all 360 degrees of direction. From this point you realize what an incredibly large area the tributaries of Choprock and Neon alone drain into the Escalante River. This is wild country, with nothing remotely civilized discernibly within sight. We route found down the steep slope of the Kayenta formation into the Wingate canyon bottom. We slipped into our wetsuits and harnesses and we were on our way.

The canyon was still flowing from our starting point to the end, adding a dynamic element to the canyon, making interesting and slippery the many downclimbs which initially welcome you into the potholes of churning water and unknown depth. After descending the 60 ft rap into a large swimming pool, we began the riparian section which was lush and littered with golden leaves of poison ivy. Fortunately it was very easy to avoid the stuff. We moved briskly through this section, as the day was short and we had a long slot ahead. It’s a beautiful section with green grasses, plants and trees covering everything, in contrast to the rock and sandy world of the sections of slot. It was palpable how the flood had ripped through the area, as many of the plants and grasses looked as if they had been combed downstream.

The riparian section transitions back into a first section of slot which has been dubbed the ‘happy section,’ in contrast to the section following (which I found far more exciting than grim). The happy section was filled with water and marvelously sculpted subway–like narrows that make you grin from ear to ear. I reveled in them, wishing I could spend hours here, but we had much to go and who knew what difficulties we would find next. The looong grim section that follows constricts down in many places to very narrow slots that naturally get choked with logjams, presenting all sorts of obstacles that are complicated further by high water levels. We wondered what new obstacles could have formed during the deluge ...

After eating a quick lunch in the last of the sunlight in the happy section, we immediately entered a cold pool, b–b–brrr. Though there seemed to be a lot less swimming in Choprock than in Neon, frequently we oscillated from being in water to our waist to water to our necks and swimming. As we approached our first logjam, we stemmed high in the tight slot to travel above it. Large thick logs choke the slot from above in a couple of spots, the first of which had water up to the log itself. Just beyond we used a sling on a log, suspended high in the slot, to rappel down about 15 ft into the very dark, watery narrows. These narrows were superlative—tall and narrow, sculpted, convoluted, and sinuous—and swimming through them was intensely exciting. It was almost overwhelming. The slot opened up and formed a curved teardrop shape. I had to pull my camera out and snap at least one or two shots. Out of the water for a bit, but then right back in and swimming again.

At one narrow point, a logjam choked a very tight section of narrows. Nat and I stemmed up the tight slot, from a swimming start—which isn’t exactly easy to do—then continued a ways over the series of logjams and dropped back in on the opposite side. Oof, you think to yourself, “Okay, these have been manageable, but what about the next one?” On a couple of occasions, the surface foam would start to build up in the dark and narrow sections, and we knew what this meant—a pile of logs in the water, filling a constriction. On a couple of occasions, it was just thick log soup, and, with a bit of work, we could haul them back up the slot, while swimming, and open a passage way through.

On one particular occasion logs of all sizes had substantially piled up in an flaring section followed by a constriction. We cleared some and Nat tried to climb it first. It was trying as the jam was unstable; his legs would slip through and he’d slide back. Finding the more sturdy sections of the jam, he was ultimately able to climb up and over. Watching, as he climbed, for these marginally stable ribs of the jam, I was able to get up and over the log jam too, with a bit of work and patience. More log jams, spectacular narrows, and endless slots of swimming and downclimbing followed ... and fortunately everything was manageable with a little bit of work. This canyon is truly one of the very great ones. It persists and perseveres through this block of wingate sandstone and leaves you completely satisfied. Even if you move quickly, there is something just as amazing down the way. And water flowed through the entire canyon, enriching the experience with rushing falls and pools filled to the brim.

As the slot neared its end, it was more aligned with the low afternoon sun. The narrows brightened and we swam and climbed out and back into each channel of slot or pool. At one point I looked up ahead and, instead of seeing the continuation of canyon, beyond the pool ahead of me was a spacious void. This was the end! I approached the opposite end of the pool—a chambered pool that hangs over 80–foot falls as the canyon opens dramatically in the evening sun. The sun sparkled on the water as it poured from the pool, off the spout in freefall, to a larger pool below. I was beaming with energy: it was a fantastic adventure today, a trip exceeding my expectation. And momentarily hanging at the top of these falls, as the leaves of the tall cottonwoods glistened in the sun, against the vertical canyon walls ... a true moment of contentment and fulfillment. We rappelled 80 ft from the 3 bolts placed away from the slot exit to avoid the ill effect of raging floods, first Nat and then I. There is a nice closure to finishing a slot with a beautiful, tall rappel and water patting on your head along the way.

It was late in the day with only a couple hours of daylight left. We quickly hiked down the remainder of the canyon, which was still full of water, and followed the main fork of Choprock down to the cow trail exiting to the south. We traced atop the Kayenta for much of the way towards Neon canyon, unsure if it went the entire way. Although we figured the Kayenta layer probably went through, with the sinking sun and short remains of daylight, we decided to drop down to the Escalante for the rest of the way. It would also allow us to assess the river depth which we needed to cross the following morning. We found a nice steep chute allowing us to descend from the wingate bench down to a very old fence/corral. From there we continued down the Escalante flood plain. It looked like a war zone. Everything was bent over and combed downstream by the raging river. Thickets of trees and branches hugged the trees high up showing how deep was the river that we marveled at two days earlier. Everything was muddy and quicksand was abundant. We continued to move quickly as the daylight waned.

Then we reached the first of two river crossings. It wasn’t clear how deep it was, but it was convenient that we were still in our wetsuits. As Nat slowly waded in, he quickly found that he was swimming and grabbed onto a branch extending from the river. It was overhead, at least there. He then made his way swimming and getting carried downstream to find that, at least in the middle of the river, he could walk across. I followed. Fortunately the next crossing had no swimming. We continued on through the maze of thickets and cottonwoods and found our way back to the mouth of Neon. The area there was super–muddy and saturated with water. But it was clear that hiking out the next day would not be a problem. We were sore and tired after the long hike. We enjoyed dinner, talked a while, then went to sleep. The night before and this night I slept outside and it was cool and clear. The late moon allowed for some stargazing and, despite being very tired, I continued to have difficulty sleeping. Instead I sat and thought about the great adventure we had had that day.

— October 9, 2006 —
Day 5: Hike Out & Egypt Road

We got up early and awoke to clouds. Was there going to be rain again?!? We quickly ate our breakfast and packed our packs. They were heavy with all of our gear and we made our way to the mouth of Neon. The east bank of the Escalante River was DEEP quicksand and instantly we got up to our upper thighs. We pushed into the river and found it, fortunately, only waist deep; conveniently our pack did not get saturated with water. The route back to the Egypt Bench was mostly uneventful, but it was clear that another storm was coming in as dark clouds filled the sky. We passed a tent lying on the sandy beach in between some cottonwoods. We had noticed something floating in exactly this spot, when we were watching the flooding Escalante on Friday, and it looked as though it were possibly a backpack, stuffed bag, or something. Someone is missing a tent.

Nat’s 4–runner was the only vehicle remaining at the trailhead. This meant one of two things. Either some folks had driven out after the storm or all of the other vehicles left before the storm. We were concerned with the road being washed out in places, especially at Twentyfivemile Wash. The first part of the road was fine, with some places degraded, but was sufficiently wide enough to drive. The closer we got to Twentyfivemile Wash the worse it was getting—though still manageable with intricate maneuvers.

When we reached Twentyfivemile Wash, any notion of the road vanished. The wash must have flooded well, tearing much of the road away. We got out, examined the situation, and realized it wasn’t impossible. In the section of the main crossing with much quicksand I piled a number of rocks for support. On the opposite side, what was once a road was now a terraced very steep grade. Nat tried to smoothen it out some and placed two lines of rocks up it for traction. We decided to give it a go. Nat got in the 4–runner and I guided him down the slope into the wash. It was very steep and studded with rocks.

Nat slowly and steadily negotiated the slope and I guided him some, away from the large rocks which would have caused some damage and high–centering. Then the plan was to speed across the flowing wash to avoid getting stuck in mud and to get up onto the bench on the opposite side. Once on the bench, there was a sharp turn to make to get onto the second bench. I guided Nat and he steered the car onto the bench. Then he needed to back up to get oriented for the last push up the final steep slope. I guided him as he backed up onto a precipice of sand four feet above the ground and roughly as wide as the vehicle. If the slope had given or had he backed off of this, we would have had some real problems. He backed up perfectly, then got set, and raced up the hill as sand spit out from the tires. Impressively, Nat drove the entire planned approach like a CHAMP—flawlessly!

We breathed a sight of relief, as this was likely the biggest trouble, BUT we weren’t to the hole–in–the–rock road yet. We continued on the road and it appeared as though we were in the clear, when we saw a Escalante BLM ranger walking on the road. Immediately he assured us we wouldn’t be able to make it through up ahead. My spirits momentarily sunk. He asked if we were doing technical canyons as someone had called in. In fact it was Nat’s wife Hermine who called to let them know that we were out there during this storm. The ranger got our names and went back to his vehicle to call it into the station. We proceeded ahead to see if we could manage the rest of the road. Up ahead the road had been washed out in a couple of sections. In one section two deep washes a few feet deep were cut and Nat had to work a bit to get the vehicle up. I watched as the wheels bent at angles I wasn’t sure they should ... eek!

We shaved off some of the edge of the shelf and Nat gave it a second go, aiming for the slope more squarely, and easily made it up. I had already run ahead to check out the next difficulty, which fortunately turned out to be the last. ⅔ of the road had been washed out six feet deep! I guided Nat onto the remaining ⅓ of the road and the shoulder, and he was able to drive through with no problems. The ranger’s truck was on the other side and he assured us we would have no more problems now. It turned out it was Hermine that had called, and the BLM desk called back to inform her that we were safe and on our way home.

At this point the rain picked up and we were worried about the remaining bit. The hole–in–the–rock road was closed and there were major crews working to restore the road. In many sections washes had ripped through the road and they were filling in with dirt and regrading these sections. In one section an entire culvert had been washed out. They had redirected the road around the culvert, and were filling in the gaps between the road and the culvert. Wild. This had been a major flood!! The road was soft and wet and getting wetter as it continued to rain. We were a bit anxious to get onto pavement at this point and fortunately had no real problems doing so. We breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching Highway 12 and made the long journey back to Salt Lake.

It was an incredible trip: far more than I bargained for and memorable to the end. I have enjoyed every trip with Nat very much, but THIS one was something else!

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© 2006 Stefanos Folias