13 minute read
Sand, llamaS, and Slot CanyonS
A Five-day Llama-supported Backpack Trip in Utah
BY SANDI BIANCHI
Hiking through Little Death Hollow canyon. Photo by Barbara Munson
The world awaits you with Colorado Mountain Club’s Adventure Travel—Mount Blanc, Iceland, Kilimanjaro, Switzerland, Italy, France, and Utah. Yes, Utah. Sometimes it’s nice not getting on an airplane!
Last May eight CMC members journeyed to Boulder, Utah, to participate in the Wolverine and Little Death Hollow llama-supported backpack trip. All eight of us should have questioned our sanity in choosing to go into a canyon named Little Death Hollow, but none of us did. Maybe we thought the word “Little” meant that we’d only mildly suffer our demise as compared to hiking in (Big) Death Hollow, a canyon in the upper Escalante on the west side of Boulder, where we would spend torturous days in pain and misery before perishing.
Fortunately, the title of the trip held two misnomers: First, Little Death Hollow is not death defying, and second, only the llamas backpacked. We carried our daypacks; they carried our food and gear.
Aspen group member and CMC leader Carol Kurt organized the trip in conjunction with llama2boot, LLC, out of Boulder, Utah. We had three highly educated, articulate, and area-knowledgeable guides: llama2boot owner B.J. Orozco and his two cohorts, Laurel Holding and Nicole Tomlin, plus eight adorable llamas and one loveable sheep dog. It was soon evident that B.J. had more invested in his llamas than just money and a business venture. He truly loved those big fellows, but more on that later…
The LDH trailhead is an hour’s drive east of Boulder on the Burr Trail Road. Starting the hike from the canyon of ghostly aspirations, we soon found no real horrors lay ahead to snag our souls into heaven or hell. Some canyoneers think Little Death Hollow is one of the best non-technical slot canyons in Utah. Most slot canyons are Navajo sandstone. But LDH is Wingate sandstone, which makes it a rarity. Its soaring 50- to 75-foot sandstone cliffs encase the dry, narrow canyon and shade the sandy floor for up to five miles. In some spots the canyon is so narrow that hikers must remove their packs and turn side-
Top Left: Llama trip participants pick up their pastured llamas and hike back to camp from Little Cathedral in the Desert. Photo by Barbara Munson. Top Right: Llama trip participants get a little help from the guides to descend a sandstone pouroff between Horse Canyon and the Escalante River. Photo by Sherry Richardson
ways to pass. While more open than LDH, Wolverine’s fame comes from huge petrified logs at the upper end of the second tributary.
At various points in the LDH, choke stones—boulders the size of cars—silently tried to foil us. These monoliths had once rushed down the canyon in a cataclysmic cascade of roaring water only to become stuck, living forever in their trapped state or until a bigger and better gush of water comes. We either had to go up and over or down and around them. If there was an opening at the bottom, it was often littered with logs and debris. When choosing the lower road, we pushed our packs through the narrow opening ahead of us and bellycrawled for 10 feet or more before passing the obstruction.
Because Little Death Hollow is too narrow for llamas loaded with 60-pound saddlebags to pass, B.J. and Nicole took the llamas through the wider Wolverine Canyon to a pre-set camp at the mouth of LDH and Horse Canyons, while Laurel led us into Little Death Hollow. After 8 miles of hiking, we reached camp where we met the llamas for the first time, set up the guide-supplied Big Agnes tents, and settled in for the evening… in wait of dinner.
I expected bland, freeze-dried backpacking food. What a surprise I had when B.J. presented us with an array of appetizers and a one-pot meal that even Julia Child could praise. This dinner was not an anomaly; they appeared night after night. Although simple meals, the food was plentiful, and the ingredients fresh, sometimes even organic. Breakfasts and lunches were the same. B.J. was also willing to work with the dietary restrictions among us: glutenfree and vegetarian.
Thank goodness for an abundance of food because we needed and consumed it. Hiking in sand is not easy. It’s almost as though the sand grabs your feet and holds them in place. You have to apply physical strength to move through it. You’re guaranteed to notice the extra effort after a few hours of hiking. If you hike 8 miles in sand, it’s going to feel like 10. This is what B.J. called the “real feel.” By the end of the day, we were ravenous, ready to scarf down anything in sight as the “real feel” played out in our tummies.
If you’re going to drive 500 miles to Boulder, Utah, to hike, you might as well make it worth your time. And that we did. Our days were long, usually hiking from 9 in the morning until 6 in the evening, 10 to 12 miles per day. “Real feel”: 12 to 14.
On Day 2 we hiked down Horse Canyon, then up and over a bench into the Escalante drainage. From there we put on our river shoes and hiked down the Escalante River, crossing it 18 times before reconnecting with Horse Canyon and our camp. In most places the chilly water was up to our knees, but a couple of the early crossings had water high enough to make us squeal. Walking along the river bank was no easy matter—total bushwhacking. Most of the trees and brush were pointing downriver, as if a huge steamroller had rolled over them. Uprooted, mature cottonwoods wrapped themselves around garage-size rocks; giant sifters littered the creek bed, left and right—all sure signs of recent flooding. “Real feel” on that day was 15-plus miles although we’d really only done 10.
Day 3 brought rain clouds and cooler temperatures. We hiked up Horse Canyon and then climbed a bench where we found an old rancher cabin and spring. We amused ourselves by poking through the human midden heap speculating on what purpose more than fifty decomposing Dcell batteries had been used. Lunch was back in camp followed by a rainstorm and nap. Afterward, we walked back up LDH
Bottom Right: Rock art panel near the trailhead of Little Death Hollow canyon. Photo by Sherry Richardson
Left: Llama trip participants stand on bench overlooking the Escalante River. From left to right are Carol Kurt, David Hite, guide B.J. Orozco, Fred Munson, Sherry Richardson, Susan Jones, Ralph Noistering, and Sandi Bianchi. Photo by Laurel Holding Right: Aspen group member and CMC Adventure Travel leader, Carol Kurt, leads one of the llamas out of Wolverine Canyon. Photo by Barbara Munson
to see it from a different perspective. That lasted until lightning lit the dark sky, thunder cracked, and rain fell. No one wants to get caught in a slot canyon when Mother Nature rampages.
B.J. told us the torrid details of a flash flood in 1997 in Antelope Canyon where seven French tourists, two U.S. citizens, one Brit, and one Swede were killed. He said the first thing that happens when there’s a flash flood is that a huge roar and wind blows down canyon. The wind is so strong it sandblasts everything in its path. When rescuers found the only survivor, the tour guide and bus driver, the only item of clothing he was wearing was his belt—all his other clothing had been ripped off. His eyes, ears, and nose were caked with sand. A severe thunderstorm warning had been issued two hours before the flash flood, but ironically, the spot where the tourists were washed away, 100 yards inside the mouth of the canyon, had received only a trace of rain.
Day 4 was time to move the llamas to better pasture down Horse Canyon. Each one of us led a llama to new grazing, thus getting to know them and their quirks up close and personal. They don’t like people, and they don’t want our attention, unless we’re giving them something to eat. Cuddly, they are not! But they are cute in their own way. Each one has its own little idiosyncrasies that can be either annoying or amusing. For example, Zorro was happy to be the last llama in line; Escobar cried when he couldn’t see his buddies; Echo took the top prize for sociability; aging Dagwood refused to show his infirmities (sounds like some CMC seniors I know); Junior wanted to be out front; Chaco accepted third place; Ozzie sat down at every opportunity; and Montanyo gently nose-nudged his leader to keep up with the group.
“While I hadn’t signed up for leading llamas as part of the trip,” said David Hite, trip participant, “I quickly learned that my llama, Montanyo, was savvy to the notion of being led. Montanyo’s evaluation of me by way of a flash of the eye and a flip of the ear changed any notion I may have had about setting our pace and direction. A gentle nose-nudge meant ‘you’re taking too many pictures, pal—keep up with the group,’ and a pull of his lead meant ‘this grass is too good to pass up—don’t worry about catching up with the rest.’ An understanding of one another’s role was immediate and mutually satisfying.”
Once the llamas were tied and happy in their new pasture, we hiked up the Escalante River to Little Cathedral in the Desert. Hiking upriver was much harder than hiking down, as we were going against the grain. Every step was a collision of man and nature. Long pants and sleeves provided some protection again nicks and scrapes. Good thing Little Cathedral in the Desert was worth the effort. Voices echo off the massive sandstone walls that surround three-quarters of the canyon. The sand on the desert floor collects the sun’s heat and makes the most wonderful place to lie down and soak up nature’s blessings. We lingered in this meditative, spiritual place for more than just lunch. (This short box canyon off the Escalante should not be confused with (big) Cathedral in the Desert on the lower Escalante where the river enters Lake Powell.)
A real treat ensued that evening when Laurel and Nicole showed us how to make fire with their own hand-made tools, the kind of tools that ancients have used for eons. Using a spindle and fireboard, they alternately rubbed the spindle between the palms of their hands three or four times each. The moment one reached the bottom of the spindle, the other one jumped in at the top. Working together for more than 20 minutes, smoke appeared, and they created a tiny coal that could be transferred to a premade bundle of shredded kindling where a fire could gestate. Stopping short of actually making fire due to BLM canyon rules, the women challenged us to give it a try. We gave them our best and strongest bodies, but to no avail. Blistered palms and sore forearms were our only accomplishments. At this rate, Little Death Hollow might suck the life out of us after all.
These women were not your average, everyday guides. They were both graduates of the Boulder (Utah) Outdoor Survival School (BOSS). Laurel had done a 14-day course; Nicole, a 28-day course—both living and surviving alone outdoors with only a meager supply of water, food, and gear— nothing any of us wanted to tackle. They knew every edible and medicinal plant in the desert. Both were now teaching at BOSS. Their kind, gentle dispositions be-
lied their innate power and strength.
Day 5 marked the end of the trip. We dismantled our tents, loaded the llamas, walked 2 miles up Horse Canyon to Wolverine and then 6 miles out to the trailhead, each of us leading a llama. Midway through Wolverine, the guides had to lead the llamas one by one over a steep section of sandstone. Standing around a corner, we heard the sound of a llama sliding down sandstone. We froze, knowing that one of the animals had just fallen. B.J. rushed to the llama’s side and helped him recover his footing. The loaded saddlebags had broken his fall. He was unhurt except for a small cut on his front foot.
Llamas get nervous when they can’t see one another. Chaco couldn’t see his buddies around the bend; so he tried to hurry to catch them, losing his footing. Had he broke a leg, B.J. would have had to shoot him and leave his body for buzzards—a sad, sobering thought to all of us who had come to appreciate these animals and see firsthand B.J.’s emotional attachment to them.
After five days, our group of eight hikers and three guides had melded: we were a close-knit family with fond memories of the animals, people, and place. Hikers included David Hite, Sherry Richardson, Carol Kurt, Fred and Barbara Munson, Sandi Bianchi, Ralph Noistering, and Susan Jones. We returned to our first night’s accommodations, Boulder Mountain Lodge and Hell’s Backbone Grill, for a hot shower, comfortable bed, and a commemorative dinner celebration. Amazing how well we all cleaned up! Over good wine and locally grown, organic vegetables and pastured meat, we relived our hiking tales of sand, llamas, and slot canyons.△
Guide Laurel Holding (right) leads trip participants into Little Death Hollow Canyon. Photo by Sherry Richardson
Hike: 16-mile loop
Difficulty: Moderate
Location: Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument
Nearest town: Boulder, Utah Access: Burr Trail Road to Wolverine Loop Road
Elevation: Wolverine Trailhead, 5,400 feet; Confluence of Little Death Hollow and Horse Canyon, 4,888 feet; Little Death Hollow Trailhead, 5,561 feet Main attractions: Little Death Hollow is a superb example of a slot canyon. Its narrows run for 5 miles. Wolverine has numerous petrified logs on the south branch.
Main deterrents: Little Death Hollow has seven or eight choke stones to maneuver. This is usually not a problem unless it has rained. In that case, be prepared to wade through waist-deep, debris-strewn water, and possibly swim. Otherwise, both canyons are non-technical and require no special gear.
Water: Bring your own in both Wolverine and Little Death Hollow; both were dry when we were there. Horse has a small stream in the evenings for water purification.
Best time to hike: Spring and fall
Maps: Trails Illustrated, Canyons of the Escalante; USGS Silver Falls Bench, Red Breaks, King Bench, and Pioneer Mesa 7.5 minute quads Warnings: Do not camp in stream beds. Choose a campsite above the debris line. Flash floods are always a danger, especially in the monsoon season, mid-July through September. One-fourth to one-half inch of rain falling in a short amount of time will result in a newborn stream in a dry stream bed. A moderate rain falling for two to three hours will result in a flash flood.
Resources Non-technical Canyon Hiking Guide to the Colorado Plateau, by Michael R. Kelsey, 6th edition, Kelsey Publishing, Provo, Utah. llama2boot, LLC: www.llama2boot,com Boulder Outdoor Survival School: www.boss-inc.com
Boulder Mountain Lodge: www.boulder-utah.com
