It's rare that I'm at a loss for where to go, but in trying to figure out a plan for an early-October trip, I found myself casting around a bit. It's not that I don't have places I want to visit - in fact, I've been itching to get back to Death Valley, longing to spend more time up in British Columbia, and curious to see if I can find more Grand Canyon Polychrome out on the Esplanade.
But - as I looked at these places, and trips I already have mapped out for each of them - none of these are the right place to go, right now. Death Valley daytime temperatures are still hovering in the low triple digits, the snowbird Tacoma is 2,500 miles away from British Columbia, and I'm really hoping I can tag along - out onto the Esplanade - with a much more experienced explorer sometime next spring.
I know, I know, adventure life problems.
Ultimately, I decided that this trip would be a little bit "wandery." From a weather perspective, southern Utah is just about perfect this time of year, and there are endless places to explore in the red rock between St. George and Lake Powell, so for the next several days, that's exactly what we're going to do!
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Doesn't Everyone Hike Slot Canyons in the Rain?
With Spirit Airlines no longer flying between Seattle and Las Vegas, we stepped off of our Alaska Airlines flight just after 7:30pm and made our usual beeline for burgers at In-N-Out. Then, after provisioning at Albertsons, we headed east. Rain was predicted during the night in south central Utah, so we stopped short - near the Muddy Mountains - and set our alarm for "still very dark," so we could arrive at the trailhead just after sunrise.
It was light when we arrived, but we had no idea if we were before or after sunrise.
The gash we'd be exploring.
It wasn't raining when arrived at the mouth of Water Canyon, but it'd obviously been a wet night. Hoping that the weather report was right - no rain after 8:00am - we set about eating breakfast, prepping lunch, and gathering up the various bits of camera equipment that would accompany us along the route.
As we did, it started to sprinkle.
Luckily, we'd just gotten everything put back into the fridge and dry box just as the wind picked up and a torrential downpour sent us scurrying into the pit toilet to let the worst of it pass. This should have been our cue to consider other options on the day, but I'm a stubborn guy and as the rain let up, it didn't even dawn on me that the narrow gorge we were headed into might be a little more dangerous than it'd been only a few minutes earlier.
With things seeming to have cleared up, and vibrant fall colors, it was time to get underway.
The 44,500-acre Canaan Mountain Wilderness is the largest of 15 wilderness areas managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) St. George Field Office. Largely an 8- by 10-mile block of Navajo Sandstone sculpted over the centuries by wind and water, Canaan Mountain Wilderness is extremely rugged. Canaan and South Mountain, reaching elevations of 7,363 and 6,696 feet respectively, comprise much of the wilderness and are ringed by the nearly vertical Vermilion Cliffs. Deeply incised and heavily vegetated drainages and canyons cut through the cliffs descending to elevations 2,000 to 3,000 feet below the mountains. Vast expanses of petrified sand dunes and hoodoos, punctuated by ponderosa pines, spread out across the mountain tops. When visiting, please exercise good judgment and protect resources by acting responsibly and following the rules.trailhead sign
One might argue that I should have read the trailhead sign - rather than simply taking a picture of it - prior to setting off up the canyon. I'd argue that even if I had, I would have completely glossed over the last line about acting responsibly, and so there would have been no point to reading at all. Which - to be crystal clear - I didn't.
Almost immediately we were into the Juniper that lined the bottom of the trail.
The first stretch of trail had a bit of up, but with no sun beating down on us, and pleasant temperatures, we made good time. I'd like to attribute some of that to us being in truly amazing shape, but mostly it was due to us hustling up the trail in order to find shelter from the rain we could see chasing us up the canyon.
Go - go - go.
We found a ponderosa pine that offered scant little protection and huddled down for the worst of it.
I don't condone modern signatures scratched into rock, but at least Merlin and Audrey (left) created something graceful and unobtrusive. Eric (right), not so much.
As we waited under our tree, we just happened to notice the Water Canyon Arch high overhead, it's graceful shape enough to completely distract us from the increased roar of the river below us.
Wet arch (left). | "Seems to be clearing up again." (right)
It was only as we neared - and then arrived at - the grotto that my brain registered the sound of water rushing over rock, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if we should be hiking up a narrow canyon right now."
I turned around and mentioned to @mrs.turbodb that we might not be able to get through the next section if the water was too high - lol, "if" - but that if it was too high, that we should wait a few minutes so that it could drop back down to passable levels.
It was still raining when we arrived, and the entire grotto was flooded.
Even as we saw how much water there was, I wondered if we could push through it.
I really should have read the sign at the trailhead.
The grotto was a special place with everything so wet and vibrant.
Huddled under an overhang, we waited for a good 40 minutes, hoping that the water would abate, even as rain continued to fall around us, and - more importantly - further up the canyon. Eventually, even I became convinced that this wasn't going to be a "today" hike, and that our only chance at success would have been getting through the narrows before the onslaught, and hoping that they drained before we returned later in the afternoon.
Which wouldn't really have been following the instructions on the sign, either.
And so, after a short discussion about what we should do with the remainder of our day - it was still only 10:30am - we tucked tail and headed back the way we'd come.
A bit of blue peaked through as we were leaving.
If At First You Don't Succeed
We'd returned to the Water Canyon trailhead - after finding the Cottonwood Canyon Ruins - under the cover of darkness. As had been the case earlier in the day - when we failed to complete the hike - no other cars were in the lot, allowing us to set up the tent and eat dinner - chicken pesto pasta - in the warmth of the cab, before settling down for our first full night of sleep in two days.
The sky was looking much more appealing on the morning of our second attempt.
Our routine the second morning followed much the same as the first, and shortly after sunrise - after a quick check on the barely-a-trickle water levels at the parking lot - we were on our way to the grotto, again!
These ferns in an alcove were looking happy with all the water.
This was certainly the most beautiful and scenic section of Water Canyon.
Water Canyon boulder.
Things were still wet - but looking a lot less dangerous - as I hopped around from place to place in the grotto, trying to capture every angle before the sun got too high in the sky and ruined the entire place with harsh shadows and contrast. This was a rush I didn't need to be in - I realized later - because the grotto was shaded through the entirety of the day, at least at this time of year (October). At least my hiking partner was patient as I wasted digital film.
At the narrow mouth of the grotto, everything looked slippery, but it turned out to be pretty grippy.
The lower grotto led to a second, where the walls climbed higher and were even closer together. This had to be a rather exciting spot the previous morning, and once again, I set out to capture some of the more photogenic spots.
Now, the thing about sandy-bottomed canyons is that when the sand gets wet, it's hard to tell if it's still solid enough to stand on. When it's not - for instance, when the sand looks solid, but is actually suspended in a pool of water - we all know it by another term: quicksand.
If you'd asked me before I placed my foot on a sand bar between two of the rocky outcroppings, I'd have told you with 98% certainty that it was going to support my weight. And I suppose it did - eventually, after I plunged down - all the way to my knees - into the saber tooth tiger eating abyss.
That narrow stretch of sand tried to swallow me!
After extracting myself from the final resting place of several wooly mammoths, I spent the next 10 minutes rinsing off my pants, shoes, socks, and lower body in one of the falls. The water was extremely not warm, and an entirely miserable experience. At least my hiking partner was patient as I mumbled, embarrassed, to myself.
Climbing out of the upper grotto.
Upper Water Canyon to the White Domes
There's a big climb out of lower Water Canyon to the rim - 1,500 feet in just over a mile - but it's a fun one, with lots of narrow ledges and sketchy climbs that aren't all that dangerous for the sure-footed, but do get the adrenaline going due to the exposure.
The terrain changes here too, from a close-quarters canyon to wide open sandstone wonderland that ascends the remainder of Canaan Mountain.
Upper Water Canyon formations.
Here, Water Canyon broadened into a sandstone wash, one that we followed toward the White Domes.
Wandering across the Canaan Mountain Wilderness.
Continuing to climb - and avoid the still-present quicksand - we took note that both sides of the wash were lined with millions of marbles. Technically, these were Moqui Marbles, small iron concretions made of iron oxide (hematite) and sandstone. Formed underground - when iron-rich groundwater flowed through porous Jurassic-age Navajo Sandstone and precipitated iron minerals, cementing the sand grains into hard concretions - most of them were spherical, but a few looked like sombreros, buttons, and even flying saucers!
The name “Moqui” comes from the Hopi Tribe, once referred to as the Moqui Indians. According to legend, ancestral spirits play with these marbles at night and leave them behind as signs of happiness.
We settled in for lunch just below the 500-foot climb that would deliver us to the White Domes. Pulling out our tuna sandwiches and Doritos, we enjoyed a few minutes in the shade as we - especially @mrs.turbodb who was feeling a bit under the weather - gathered our strength for the final push.
This guy was huge - nearly 3-inches long. Probably could have eaten a tuna sandwich.
As we approached the White Domes, our attention turned from route finding to composition. We each headed our own way, wandering the waves of white an orange that undulate across the landscape. I don't know if we ever really captured the beauty of this place, but we certainly enjoyed our time at the top.
Final approach.
The whitest of domes.
Two domes.
I didn't realize it at the time, but capturing the White Domes - on all our photographic devices - was a lot harder than it seemed as we snapped one shot after another from various angles. It was only once we got back that I realized that both the brilliant bright whites and pure blue skies offered both much and little in the way of contrast, making it difficult for our sensors to calibrate and capture a decent range of color.
White wave.
Paper beats rock.
Cresting the ridge, we both caught our breath as Zion National Park came into view.
The view back down Water Canyon wasn't too shabby, either.
White Domes.
White Domes and Zion.
Reflected dome.
White-ish wave.
Rusty point.
Eventually - still with more that we wanted to do on this particular day - we exceeded our allotted viewing time and started to work our way back toward the trailhead. This, naturally, meant a second encounter with all the too-neat-to-pass-up sights that we'd seen on the way up, and even some we hadn't!
Thirsty tree.
I thought this tree looked a bit like a large cat stalking its prey.
Our descent progressed much more quickly than the 2,800 foot climb we'd endured on our way to the White Domes, and within 45 minutes we were back at the grotto. There, we ran into several groups of hikers, a few of which were still on their way up, but most of whom had reached the apex of their days adventure.
Goodbye grotto!
Water Canyon view.
Back at the Tacoma - now in the company of several much larger trucks - we quickly stowed the tent before consuming an apple and leaving Water Canyon for the second time in as many days.
Our next destination wasn't far away, but a series of questionable decisions on my part meant that we wouldn't see it until the next day...
The Whole Story
Award winning photos of the rocks and all their splendor of colors, I love it. Good to see you are keeping busy, never give up....keep on, keeping on.