Yes, a couple other canyons were done. But the next BIG EVENT of note was a descent of Sandthrax Canyon by most of the gang on the 30th. Hank got a bunch of great pictures, and Ram wrote a wonderful trip report. Thus - pictures by Hank, text by Steve Ram.

Sandthrax campsite, below a remarkably blue sky.

Special thanks to all the partners, over the decades, who cajoled, nursed and often "carried" me through special places I would not otherwise would have had the pleasure to have experienced.

TR- Sandthrax Canyon

I stole the quote from Krakauer. His partner wanted to climb the Eiger and he on the other hand wanted to HAVE climbed the Eiger. So it was with me and Sandthrax Canyon. I wanted to HAVE descended it. It is what I told those assembled around the fire, the eve before the descent. The canyon sits next to one of the campsites I have used the most over the years. Many who visit this campsite, also named Sandthrax, visit the canyons mouth and the more curious, its rim and entry. The story of the epic attempted descent had become legend in certain circles of the canyoneering community. The long bivy on individual chockstones, the upclimb 5.10-11 off-width crux waiting to trap the unsuspecting or underskilled, the reassembled bolts used to ladder out, the fear-inspiring final difficulties, seen by so many visitors to the bottom since. I had chosen never to view the canyon, except for fleeting and distant views, driving by, on the pavement. I figured never to enter this canyon, it's crux moves being beyond the scope of my abilities.

I was wrong again. With modest abilities but talented friends, I had again and again climbed that mountain and descended that canyon which I thought above my abilities and certain never to see and record in my mind's eye. And so it was with Sandthrax too. And as usual, when I finally did go, I managed to have my moment that called into question my presence in such a place.

Talk of a descent had started a month or so before, Hank and Wyoming Dave chattering excitedly about a New Years time frame. At the same time Ryan Cornia offered to take me, he having descended the canyon already. I, diplomatically said "Lets look at it when the time draws nearer." Maybe it would snow. Maybe the walls, cold with winter, would be slippery and out of condition. Maybe the idea would simply slip away, as bravado is known to do, when the date draws near.

The approach, up and over the sandstone hills.

The Rim Team - Rob, a good book, and Jemimah.

That's it, all of it. That short little thing.

Sometimes the stars all align. Steve "Spiderman" Jackson, who had soloed the canyon, in remarkable time, was coming for the winter festival we call FreezeFest. Hank and Dave were still focused on the task. My 16 year old son Aaron, having walked the step ladder of skill and accomplishment, was likely qualified and excited. I would not let my fear deny him his opportunity, but could I go elsewhere, knowing he would be in the belly of the beast?

Ryan, shy as always of crowds, wished us luck and slipped off to solo explorations. It was dinner time the night before. Dinner from the Dutch oven crowd, John and associates, having styled everyone at FreezeFest. I wasn't committed to going. But the guys wanted me there and used the persuasion tactics, which I have used on others, with great success, for decades. I smiled ruefully at the role reversal. I am a sucker for logic and the argument of " When will it be a better crew and time? If not now, when?" was winning me over. I kept that close to my breast though, leaving myself room to wiggle out, with a "We shall see." comment. But unnoticed, the scotch flask never came out that evening and I did subtle stretching of my leg muscles, around the fire. When I go for a big bad ascent or descent, this is my pattern. To bed at 12:15 AM

Also part of my pattern is to have nightmares the night before a committing day. On this night, dreams of falling and others of being wedged found form in my mind. Fortunately, I don't need much sleep, so by 4:40 AM I was done with that torture for the evening. A late wake up was planned, waiting for warmth and higher sun angles, so I alternated dozing and wide awake worry. When I share my worry too directly it steals confidence from my partners, but it is my process to work out all the ugly potential realities, as if to do so, purges them from possibility and brings my focus to better sharpness. So sparing everyone, I looked over at my sleeping son and imagined bringing the worst possible news to his mother.....and the imagined pain of a 12 year old daughter, being told that dad wasn't coming home. I would push it away and new forms of horror would work its way back in. A middle aged man, wrestling with fear and consequences and for what? To be more alive. To find the Zen of focus. To walk with the fears, but not have it lead the way. I will go to the canyon. And so will the sleeping lad next to me. He has earned it and I will not let him be a prisoner of my fear any more than allowing myself to be. He knows the rules. No mistakes. The boy can play. He has earned it.

In the morning, we make preparations. Bucky will join us. When I recruited him for the trip, I asked what canyons he would like to do. Having been "on the couch" for 8 months he said "I am up for anything, except probably Sandthrax." So naturally, he is going to Sandthrax too, on his first day out, making us a large but solid group of 6. Group gear is laid out. I circle the area hoping my betters will gather it all up and I spy Steve take most of it, without being noticed by the others. His considerable abilities would show no effect from the additional weight and when the gear gets used it will be spread out amongst the group, late in the canyon. But for now he is the pack horse.

Head of the slot. Aaron, Dave, Spiderman Steve.