(All photos this Latest Rave: Roylnn Serati.)

A Night to Remember, Part II

There was nothing to do but bed down, and try to make the best of it.

Ram found a place upcanyon, where a 2-foot jog in the canyon wall provided a little bit of cover from the up-canyon wind. We pulled the foam pads out of the packs, and I changed into my dry clothes, making my wetsuit available as a sleeping pad. Ram lay down against the wall, and I snuggled up against him, then Roy against me, with Doug stuck out on the outside, in the wind. Doug became the champ as he pulled a space emergency bag out of his pack – Go Doug! We spread it out across our torsos, where it covered about 3-1/2 of us. We packed in tight for warmth.

Warmth was more important than comfort. I had to leave my helmet on because my warm hat was soaking wet. Snuggled in tight, we could share full-body shivers much like people share yawns – Roy would do a full body shake, then I would, then Ram, back to me, back to Roy… The rain stopped and the wind slowed, and for twenty minutes Ram snored softly while I tried not to do the full-body shake and wake him up. I know I nodded off for a few minutes here and there.

After a couple of hours, it started getting colder and no one was sleeping. This led to our first pee-break, an interesting artifact of our sleeping arrangement. If one person got up to pee, we all got cold and might as well get up and pee too. So we did. I was the only person NOT in a wetsuit, thus my pee-break was much easier than the others. The break was also a chance to stretch, jog in place, grab a sip of water, etc. We grabbed a few more objects to use as pillows and bolsters, then reassembled our sardine arrangement.

An hour later, it began to rain, lightly at first, then a little harder. We pulled the blanky over our heads to keep the raindrops from pinging our eyes and face, and creating a humid, warm space. Unfortunately, when Ram pulled it up to cover his face, it revealed an inch of my derriere to the rain, so I would gently pull it back about an inch, Ram would pull it back, etc. Every now and then, the rain would build up on our foil blanky, and run off the edge into the small of my back, at which point I would tug it pretty good, and Ram would get a puddle in the face.

With the rain going, we were getting colder, and the full-body shivers came faster and faster. Then the rain slacked off and we got a few minutes sleep. Then the rain picked up again, and a few minutes later started coming down hard. Uh oh. I thought about the huge collection basin we were sitting at the bottom of, and all the half-empty potholes that had to fill up before the flood could reach us. In the light rain, I was not too worried, but with this heavier, male rain, uh… I glanced out from under the blanky and say a flash of lightening – not a good sign. After a few minutes of hard rain, the sound in the canyon changed completely. I shone my light over to the slabby corner we had tried climbing up, and a small waterfall was tumbling down it, crashing into the canyon. Even a worse sign!

We huddled under the blanky, willing the rain to stop. Didn't work.

Doug suddenly jumped up. "I'm in a puddle", he cried.

The slabby corner waterfall was going so good that it was flowing both downcanyon, as expected, and upcanyon toward our boudoir. At the same time, the pool just upcanyon from us was rising rapidly. We all hopped up and within a few seconds, water was swirling around our feet, as we snatched at the foam pieces, my wetsuit and the various waterbottles and bags we had used as pillows. We retreated to the high point with the bush on it.

This is where Roy was totally the champ. I was resigned to standing on the bush in the rain until the canyon filled with water and swept us away, but apparently Roy's survival instinct was a little better than mine.

"Help me with this rope," she said, putting the rope in my hands. "Let's flip it up over this flake…".

We gave it four or five tries, but it was not working. Roy put her harness on. "Here – give me a boost!"

The rising water added urgency to her request. We boosted her up, knee, clasped hands, shoulder, then pushing her feet up high, so she could reach the large, but very crumbly holds 8 feet off the ground. Which she did, then quickly climbed a few feet to tuck in behind the large but not-very-sturdy-looking flake. We tossed her up the rope and she wrapped it around the flake twice, securing it as a "knotless"-style anchor. Doug threw his harness on, Roy put him on a tight belay, and he quickly joined Roy at the top flake. Harder was getting Ram up – with only one person (me) to boost, it was harder getting him up to the holds. Being non-technical, Ram did not think of actually tying in and being belayed, just batmanning up the rope to get to the good holds, and then slipping in behind the flake.

Ram leading the way, into a narrow slot.

A turn in the canyon, Doug taking the high road.

Hank and Tom walking into the bottom chamber of the canyon.

Hank Moon looking up at the canyon exit.

Home sweet home. Flake and bush. Canyon flows left to right.

Which left me on the ground. Now, you might think I was selfless and valiant to be last. You would be mistaken. I may be generous, selfless, etc in normal life (debatable), but in a survival situation, hypothermic, wet, cold, completely tired and scared, I know who is number one in MY universe – ME! So it was entirely on purpose that I was last, thus saving myself from the embarrassment of demonstrating my lack of climbing skills and allowing me, instead, do what I do best – use technology. I had some mini-ascenders, and climbing the rope looked so much better than trying to rock climb using holds. I made sure all our packs and gear was on top of the bush, fixed my ascending rig to the rope, and jugged 8 feet to the base of the flake and Ram's foot.

The good news was that the flake was tucked under a little overhang, protecting us from the rain. The bad news is that with Roy and Doug standing atop the flake, Doug had to handjam the crack just above them to hold in balance, for an hour. There was a waterfall a few feet to the side of our flake, and as the rain intensified, the flow increased until the waterfall was just a foot from Doug's position, splashing him with cold water.

Since I was in the most exposed position, they handed me down the blanky, which I wrapped around my shoulders. Hanging in my harness and in one foot-loop, I shifted weight back onto a foothold to the side, until both legs were cramping up and shivering. Finally, I put both feet into the foot-loop, hung on my harness and leaned my helmet against the rock, dozing off occasionally as the others carried on a conversation so they would not fall asleep. Every time Roy or Doug shifted position, I could feel the flake flex with the change in forces – not comforting.

The canyon below us was flowing, but the bush with our gear on it was doing just fine. After an hour, the rain relented, our two waterfalls subsided and the intensity was relaxed. Those guys chatted; I napped. I thought about jugging down to our gear, throwing everything in packs and securing it, but was too numb to actually act on these bright ideas.

An hour later, the rain came back again, and our two waterfalls crashed around us again, and the flow in the canyon came back up. Not enough to kayak, but still. A bit later, Ram says "There goes your keg!"

My headlamp showed my white Canyon Keg floating away. I had left it on a rock a few inches lower than the bush, and it had survived until now. It stuck in an eddy about 10 feet downcanyon, then swept over a rock and disappeared. Ya know, even with a nice camera in there, it didn't bother me too much. I was just praying for the rain to stop.

Eventually, it did. We hung out on the flake until the flow in the canyon subsided and the stars came out, promising an end to the rain. I down-jugged to find there was enough dry ground for us to all sit against the wall, our feet on the bush. The others came down, and we set up a sitting-sardines arrangement. It was cold. The two people on the inside were fairly warm, but the two on the outside were always cold. I switched with Ram a couple times on our end, tolerating being on the outside as long as possible, until the shivers were almost continuous, then switching back. Doug got the worst of it, sticking it out on the outside for most of the night. Even when we tucked him into the middle, I added insult to injury by falling asleep while on the outside, huddled against him.

As often happens, the night finally ended. It got light, but it did not warm up. We huddled for another hour or so, but it became clear the sunlight we could see on the wall above would not make it down to us. We pulled out the bit of food we had left and shared it around. Ram and Doug took the rope and headed up-canyon, intent on getting past the "Tom-fall silo" and getting to a place they could climb out. I'm sure glad they were "psyched" to do that, because I definitely was not. Especially since the start from our little oasis meant swimming across a short pool. Brrrr.

Roy and I stretched for a bit, then huddled up again with the blanky around us. Talked a little. Were basically numb. We got up and did stuff, like getting the gear into the packs, or trotting in place, but did not have much energy. We were just talking about how long we should give them before we, too, would have to swim that pool and head up-canyon, when Ram appeared above us in the sun, big smile on his face. Wa-hoo! I was so relieved.

We hauled the packs and jugged up the rope to the sunlight. After a night of shivering, it felt so good. We traipsed across the slickrock a couple hundred yards to the end of the canyon, then spent an hour figuring out a way to get down to the main canyon. Another hour of hiking got us to the edge of Lake Powell, our friend Hank, hot food for breakfast, and a boat to drive out to the channel to call off the rescue 45 minutes after it had been started.

 

Obviously, we made mistakes. Starting in the rain, pushing forward after Doug hurt his ankle, descending an unknown canyon without scouting – all these seem like the obvious mistake, but they are not. We had a strong team and were arrogant about it, and got slapped around pretty good. But really, our big mistake was NOT to discuss and consider exiting the canyon when it started stiffening up, and going overland to the end. It was certainly possible. I know for me, I was "smelling the barn" – thinking that the end had to be just around the corner. I was too tired – fatigue makes me stupid - and I did not really even consider escaping at any of several places we could have, and coming back another day. We were resourceful and lucky. Yes, we got trapped in a place that did not fully flood, with a flake available for avoiding the flood. I think if we did not have a good place to hang out, we would have continued upcanyon, and who knows what the result would have been. I'd like to thank my teammates for saving our collective derrieres, staying calm, and being wonderfully warm all night long. It was a night to remember.