It was the last day of the year. This made four straight December 31sts out in canyon country. FreezeFest was rocking along nicely. Our troop was at its largest and the day would see three separate groups out and about doing canyons. Scott was interested in going down toward Bullfrog and taking a look into Sevenmile Canyon—a Kelsey–betaed canyon that sounded moderate and worth a look. Having never been into that specific canyon, my son and Aaron were game. Big Ryan Hull and Denise rounded out the group.

The whole week my car had stayed parked as we all fit into Big Rob’s diesel–powered monster dubbed ‘the Great White Hope.’ This beast seats nine easily, but I was pining to hear my book on tape, that I was in the middle of, and hadn’t heard since the drive out. So Aaron and I brought up the rear, he blissfully avoiding my John Irving novel with his headphones.

An hour on the dirt roads and we pull up behind the lead vehicle. They are not sure if we are in the right place, but we go and scout the lay of the land which somewhat fits what we are looking for. The canyon head has no anchor and we check out two other branches. Nothing. Not like a betaed canyon at all. Aw well. Scott gets that look in his eye.

EXPLORE!!

So we figure to monitor reversibility and take a look around. We go into little narrows here and there. Fun stuff, some three–feet–off–the–deck stuff, but it opens back up again and again. Scott and Aaron do a rim walk and report fun country ahead and we proceed.

The narrows deepen. The conversation shifts to love, relationships, marriage and is lively and fun. The narrows gets tight enough that the packs go to one shoulder and we come upon a sidecanyon coming in. It looks good. We mark it in our minds and hope to have time, upon our return. A second sidecanyon comes in and we go and explore. A shallow affair, it is a long series of potholes. Some sporting climbs on the rim and through the potholes adds some spice to the day. Nice but short. On we go.

Another tight narrows closes in and then opens in the main canyon. We note old footprints in the sand and we speculate as to our exact location. The next sidecanyon coming in from the left looks serious. We start by stemming up the drainage. Then out the side on steep slope. We all rim walk it out of the canyon and marvel at a 40–foot deep R or X slot. We lick our lips and climb up toward a place to climb in. It is not the right crew or the right day, but we would return within the year and probe further. A year later Aaron and Landon will make the first descent of what they named Wormhole.

Not knowing any of this, something is nagging at me. One of the feelings—as if where we are would bring me back to an old friend of a canyon. And the further I go, the more it starts to look more like that old friend’s neighborhood. I literally sprint up the side of the slickrock to a point with a broad view and the excitement surges through me. There, ⅔ of a mile away, is the lay of the land I remember. Psychological Damage country is visible in the distance.

In April, we had been benighted in the canyon, been forced up onto a flake in the middle of the night to avoid a flash flood. Climbed out the next day. A week later, we had pushed the canyon further. A month later on May 20th, we had completed it. Now there it was ahead. I shared the news with Aaron, who was excited. I waited and the rest of the crew came on up and I told them I had a treat for them and to follow me.

After 15 minutes, I brought the crew to the edge of the rim and a view down to the bivy flake. What a strange feeling to be there again, unplanned as it was. We went to the start of the third and infamous narrows, and started in for a peek. It starts with a series of very narrow, 6–foot steps and the progress is very slow and physical. They all got the idea very quickly. This place is ‘real.’

After 15 minutes and maybe 100 feet, we came to the first silo. The circular shaped widening in the canyon, with the 20–foot drop, awed the crew. Aaron climbed down into the pothole and continued to the bivy flake, on his own, while we waited and I regaled folks with the story of how Tom had fallen there and miraculously wasn’t hurt. How Roy climbed down into the hole. How Tom barely fit through a constriction that even got Aaron’s attention and how Doug had stemmed the drop way high, on what proved to be a broken ankle.

Aaron returned and we retraced our steps out to the bench and followed the route off the nose, found in April after the bivy, but this time took a right at the main canyon and up canyon and started the long haul home. Without a watch (smart) among us, just 10 days after the solstice, we erred on the side of caution, marked those fine side drainage’s for a future date, took a sidecanyon that left us up on a bench and ‘felt’ our way cross–country and back to the car.

On the drive, I took point and cleared the odometer and measured, Aaron recording, each of the sections and the direction, all the way back to the main road. A look at the atlas and the copied Topo Utah maps showed, not at all, the roads we had followed. Quite satisfied about making such a nice day out of nothing, Ryan passed around the orange soda.

We found an open marina store and ordered sandwiches in Ticaboo and then headed back to the campsite to start the evenings festivities. The Black Hole and a new year were just hours away.


Ram


Tales of Bunfodder (aka Psycho Damage):
  Mae West Slot • Dave Black
  Bunfodder • Dave Black
  Bun Fodder • Steve Allen
  Transcript from a Spiral Notebook • Hank Moon
  A Night to Remember • Tom Jones
  Psychological Damage • Steve Brezovec    ( SHORT FILM )
  Psychic (or Psycho) Damage • Ram
  A Night to Remember II • Doug Noel
  An Old Friend Revisited • Ram
  What’s in a Name? • Ram

© 2007–2025 Steve Ramras