It had dominated the spring, in a fashion. We had tried to sneak a canyon in on our first day out on Powell in April. The 8th to be exact. A late start, injury and poor judgment, and believing that it was shorter out the bottom conspired to lead to my first ever bivouac. The midnight rain and subsequent flood had us above the torrent, hanging precariously from a flake. The wait for first light and the stiff climb back and out, to drop ropes to our partners, to jug out on. Yes, it was a night to remember. It was the most vivid hours of my life. The clarity of the experience is magical. Tom told the story wonderfully, I will not try and duplicate that here and now.

Even as we exited the canyon, after the bivy, to call off the rescue we suspected was being organized, my mind returned to the canyon. What could be done differently? Who would want a piece of this beast? What new ideas imagined, to make it easier and safer. Yes, I knew then that I would return and sooner rather than later.

Sooner was just 7 days away. The group went through a type of group therapy, working through the trauma. Doug was forced to go home right away, his ankle broken, but Roy and Tom were staying for a week. Hank and I were in for two weeks. A whole new group was coming in on the seventh day. Roy and Tom, when they heard I planned to take fresh meat back to what we were calling ‘Silo Canyon,’ they postponed their departure 24 hours.

What new ideas had we devised? Doug and I, when we reversed the canyon after the bivy, figured out a way to sort of belay the canyon’s most dangerous feature, what we call a silo. This canyon is quite narrow and you are forced up, sometimes pretty high. Periodically, you encounter a pothole on the bottom. When they occur, the canyon becomes wide, all the way to the rim. You stem along and suddenly you are presented with a big and round opening, with exposure all the way to the canyon floor. You look at it and wonder ... can I stem across? You know that if you misjudge you are in big trouble. We had already seen Tom plummet to the bottom, miraculously unharmed. How to protect this?

Doug and I devised a method where one of us led out while the other fella belayed the leader. The belayer wedged himself into a constriction in such a fashion as to be a human piece of protection, like a chockstone. Doug belayed me, I belayed him. A fall wouldn’t be pretty for leader or belayer. We would likely swing hard into the wall, but no one would fall to their deaths. Other ideas? A support team on the rim, complete with rope, radios to communicate with the rim. No packs, just radios, helmets, harnesses, and ascenders.

On this our second visit to the crux narrows, Hank got to see and Roy and Tom got to revisit to the bivy site. New blood Scott ‘Melon’ Greenstone and Steve Levin accompanied me into the narrows. We passed Tom’s silo, with 20 feet of exposure, passed the bivy site, up a strenuous 5.7 climb of a narrow, flaring and moss covered corner. Once up, it became easy again—easy but exposed—past the second silo. The drop was 60 feet on that one, then we climbed back down to the canyon floor. Now understand, Steve is quite the climber, and I am lagging behind, sure to hide in his shadow.

Ahead, the canyon widens, then narrows awkwardly (5.7). He goes beyond and I wait. I don’t want to make this exposed move if I don’t have to. He comes to another silo. He says he can make it but that he would like belay for it. He says that the exposure is 80 feet down the silo. We decide that the static rope we have on the rim will not do for this wide set of moves and call it a day. Return back upcanyon a bit and call for a rope and jug out. Progress, but not success. The distance is less than a tenth or two of a mile, left unfinished. But what horrors lay in wait? The rest of the April trip is great. But Silo Canyon remains out there waiting.

Fast forward 34 days ... the May trip arrives. Day 13 of the trip, Day 3 on Powell, May 20th and the fourth day in this canyon in the last 42. The crew is assembled. The dynamic rope is included. This group, the individuals free from the trauma of the bivy, are confident. Eli joins Ivy as rim support, on this scorcher of a day. Ivy has brought up gallons of water. We are poised. Everyone else wants to experience the canyon and off we go into the third and crux narrows. We all deal with the first silo and make it to the bivy site. I tell the tale, with animation, almost feeling the original group’s presence in this—for me—special place. Some call it a day and jug. A few continue to the 5.9 climb. More choose to jug out.

Past this spot, we are down to five souls. Jud and Murray, Stevee B, Vladman and myself. We occasionally see our partners above, dancing on the rim and offering encouragement. And so we arrive at the crux silo. The five of us will solve the problem four different ways. Stevee B slides down and into the darkness. Reemerges up an offwidth chimney. He encourages Vlad to follow, which he does by sliding down on the edge of the silo down what looks to me to be an impossibly tight squeeze. I look at Jud and Murray. They look skeptically at this route. Not for me either. Vladman is a very good and bold climber. He takes a fair bit of time solving this set of moves in what I hear (but could not see) was a variation of Stevee’s.

Murray is next. He climbs up 3 or 4 more feet and starts to stem, back against the wall and feet out the other side. Inching out, I notice that his contact point is higher and higher on his back. It is no longer feet on the wall, but tiptoes. With cool and focus, he is across. At 6′5″ or so tall and enormously strong, this doesn’t look like the way for me either. I see what I think is a route. Squeeze down 6–8 feet and stem across on what looks like smearable sides on the silo. It is narrow. Being able to fit back in is a concern.

Jud is behind me. He states that this is not worth dying for (smart fella) and calls for a belay from above. I am now full of mixed emotions. The rope is coming down. I had planned to ask one of the folks across the silo for a belay, but the one from above would be so much safer. I am tempted to ask for it anyway—something about doing the route ‘in style.’ I decide that this is selfish and would cause undue risk to someone I call a friend. To heck with style. I take the belay. May have been adrenaline but this line I took felt very easy. Jud follows my line.

The canyon is not over yet. We look down and note that, almost immediately, the canyon starts to widen at the bottom, getting wider downcanyon. Way wider. If we continue high, we may not be able to get down again. We are 80 feet up. The bottom 20 feet was turning serious bombay. The 60 feet down to the top of the bombay was seriously narrow—get–wedged–and–stuck narrow. We each pick a line in conjunction with our size and cautiously ‘take the elevator down’ in a controlled fall. The crux of this is 20 feet off the ground. Jud and Murray and I, to a lesser degree, have tense moments squeezing through and to the ground. Relief. The canyon turns subway–like in character. A waist–deep pothole leads to a funnel downclimb and splash down into a second pool and we are out.

Silo Canyon, renamed ‘Psychological Damage’, is a done deal.

Thanx to everyone who made efforts and sacrifice in seeing this project through. The descent party stepped on the shoulders of those who came before them to make it happen.

I thank you. I am thrilled. And I will return ...


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