This was a great day to have friends.     Brett posting up to lead the trip and Scott helping him, Sam bringing all his gear (including his mad melon), and Beckie driving my still-drunk ass to the trailhead. Coffee, one-hit, powerful movement, half-gal of water, and a mild 2.5 mile walk in a sauna are a great hangover cure. Then a cold flush for the next 2 hours as we crept through the ~half-mile canyon filled with that last remnants of spring, then 2.5 miles back up into the furnace.

On the way down, my head and stomach prompted flashbacks to a brutally steep hot climb out of Waimea canyon in Hawaii. But once i was sober enough to speak socially, i found our group of 11 great company and was quickly distracted.   It seemed most of us knew about 4 others of us, so everyone was polite enough and confident enough to just have fun. Granite slides and silly stumbles got everyone smiling, and for the first time in a long long time i found myself giggling and bonding with other adults for no spoken reason.

Everything was slippery, in some manifestation but not always another, eventually leading to the barest dryest freeest-from-algae rock making me doubt my footing. It might be covered in a fine silt, my just-wet enough shoes might slide. Risk aversion was the far better course, each careless thud brought the promise of a purple welt discovered that night in the shower. Short-term, however, the cold water and a dozen swims of 5 to 30 yards worked the contusions out. The group needing to keep pace kept hesitation from grabbing too much hold. Blood, breathe and base were tapped smoothly. Focus got a little crisper.

We turtle-walked, lizard-walked, old-drunk-man-walked, baby-with-a-load-in-diaper-walked seeking to keep knees and toes from bashing submerged boulders.   Palms and wrists sored following the easy-to-follow dry parts of the trail, adding 40% vertical distance up and down obstacles strewn across the canyon.   I dragged my lower arms in the water to dull the aches and feel out any submerged traps, then took to crabbing forward centered over my butt, finally doing chest-only breaststroke dragging legs on the surface. When it was deep enough i’d float on my back and fade out in the canyon walls above me, slipping into a nap for just seconds, still willing the hangover away. The walls of the canyon weren’t worn, they’ve had everything flushed out of them. Frames of color with sudden interrupts dripping gravity and violence. Dreams hurtling forward enough to leave their best tingle on my tips.   Then awake again for another slippery boulder obstacle, with renewed passion to attack the canyon’s highlights and low-level noise.

We came to the route’s only big cliff, a genuine canyoneering challenge requiring a 30 foot jump or rappel.  I’ve jumped 50 feet, which is an impression-making experience to be sure, but its not that hard. I’ve never crawled out on a line where i would 100% die if i fucked up, and I had to 100% commit to the move to get me out.  Never on the bike. Watching a couple guys go before me, and the explanation from a couple guys who’d done it before settled my anxiety and my worry, my superego and ego. Nothing, however, prepared me for the blast of terror i felt when my footing struggled to stick and i had only my hands to hold me. This was just to get to the spot to clip in for the rappel! I instinctively turned and started to head back, back up the canyon, anywhere but towards the cliff. I settled down, followed the line outward, and on shaky legs dropped 5 feet down the handline to the launching spot. The rock was angled down and left, worn smooth. Holding the line with 1 arm and tossing my pack into the pool with the other, I felt the pitch and gravity pulling me sideways towards the rocks. I crouched down, quickly realizing that offered me no way to jump out. It seemed like i hesitated out there for a long time, but on Sam’s film it looks like i just stood up and walked off. Somehow I got my feet under me and counterbalanced my weight enough to take 2 strong steps and leap, getting my first good view of the landing as it came rushing up to me. I joined the others on the flat rocks by the side of the pool, cheering and laughing as the rest of the group made their way down the cliff.

Thanks Brett for the scoutmastering! and Sammy for capturing the day and letting me repost your vid.   Read his writeup here.   No point-and-shoots were injured in the making of this video. i was like ‘m’kay…sam’s here, cool the camera stays in the dry bag.‘   The one-handed jump with Sam hanging onto the camera is off-the-scale commitment to blogging about your radness.