Death Hollow -- Day 4

The fourth and last day would be our easiest. It was a cool morning, so I started out with all my layers on. Many of the clear pools were chock-full of small trout darting here and there. It took only 15 minutes of walking to reach the confluence with the Escalante.



(Hector Photo)





Above: the clear Mamie Creek (that drains Death Hollow) converges with the cloudy Escalante River.

The Escalante was surprisingly high for mid June--mid-thigh or deeper in many places. And flowing fast. In fact, I recall that the BLM had put a sign up at the Escalante Bridge trailhead discouraging anyone from fording the river. It wasn't that bad, but I could see where it could be iffy with small children or pets.

The low-angle morning sun created some blinding contrast along the Escalante gorge's massive golden walls. This created quite the challenge to get decent photos with the ol' point-and-shoot.









We enjoyed hiking in the rushing river for a time, but we soon found ourselves looking for short-cut trails along the benches. There seemed to be a main path that became clearer (and often marked with red tape tied to trees) as we went downstream.






As the canyon continued to open up, the main trail had us hiking mostly on dry land with just an occasional river crossing. We were making very good time.


(Hector Photo)





Above: while following a faint path, we ran into a family of skunks. Luckily, we spotted them first and we were able to avoid spooking them.



At one point, the path delivered us to a shady overhang with a cool microclimate. We found faded pictographs that appeared to depict the river in the rear of the overhang.





(Hector Photo)

By late morning, it had really warmed up. It would be bone-dry desert whenever the trail took us any distance from the river. But just as we would start to feel the heat, there would be another river crossing to cool us down. I shed all of my layers down to a t-shirt, and since we were out of poison ivy country, I zipped off my pant legs. Unfortunately, ferocious deer flies started biting the backs of my legs, so my pant legs went back on after only about a half hour.



When a huge skyline arch appeared on the south rim, I knew we had less than two miles to go. Just past the arch, are some hard-to-reach, and therefore, well-preserved Anasazi granaries in a mid-cliff alcove. Looking closely, you could just make out some more pictographs above the granaries that again appeared to represent the river.






Escalante natural bridge presented itself around the next bend in the canyon. At this point, we knew we were all but done, and we all decided that this had been the best backpack trip any of us had ever done. It was like four different trips in one since each day offered terrain and scenery markedly different than the day before.

Even though we were exhausted and beat down, we couldn't help but start day-dreaming about what big adventure to do next. The Black Hole of the White River? The Paria River to Lee's Ferry? Canyonland's Maze District?

Naturally, the conversation turned to food. We could try the Boulder Mesa restaurant or Hell's Backbone Grill. Or, there's that double-bacon cheeseburger at the Circle D in Escalante. It didn't matter. Just as we began frothing at the mouth, we realized we had all left our wallets in my Montero at the upper trailhead on Hell's Backbone. To make things worse, Hector recalled having less than a quarter tank of gas left in his Accord.


Above: Hector crosses the river below Escalante natural bridge.





Above: Woohoo! Hector and Eros makes the final river crossing to the trailhead.

When we reached the trailhead, we unloaded our packs and took a breather as we chatted with various people doing day hikes. There was a large group of Utah Division of Wildlife folks gearing up for a hike upriver to conduct some sort of a fish survey. A couple of them were concerned about the water levels and hiking conditions.

We were exhausted and hungry for real food but there was one last task to complete. The hundred-hand pictograph panel was a short and steep hike up the canyonside. Eros's knees were killing him, but I knew he wouldn't pass up a chance to see this amazing site. He slowly followed us up the well-warn path.



After snapping some photos, we made our way back down to Hector's car where we promptly took our wet shoes off. Hector assured us that he had enough gas to pick up my Montero and then head into Escalante to fuel our cars and bodies, so we headed up the twisty Hell's Backbone Road. I wish I had insisted on driving Hector's car, because as soon as we hit those curves I started feeling car sick. The worst thing about it was that I knew I wasn't going to be able to down that massive burger that I was looking forward to.

I forgot about how good of gas mileage Hondas get. We pulled into Escalante with gas to spare and b-lined it to the Circle D. With envy, I looked on as Hector devoured the double with bacon. I managed a single as I pulled out my camera and started reviewing the some 500 photos I had taken.

After we cleaned our plates, we said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways.

Death Hollow - Day 3

We had about 6.5 miles to cover today to make it to one of a number of campsites near the confluence with the Escalante River.

After a warm breakfast, we made preparations to set out. Eros cut his bathroom break short when we heard a group of female hikers coming down from the rim on the Mail Trail.

The first river crossing that day stung a bit. The weather was unusually cooler than normal the entire trip. But the third day was by far the coldest, and it was a day we were going to be in the water the majority of the time. Dark clouds continually threatened throughout the day, and although we only got a sprinkle or two, temperatures really plummeted that evening. I later learned that most of southwestern Utah got pretty slammed by thunderstorms that afternoon, so I guess it could have been much worse.






(Hector Photo)


(Hector Photo)



The canyon below the Mail Trail widens and becomes completely choked with vegetation, including the dreaded poison ivy. At first, there were just a few ivy plants here and there, and they could easily be avoided. But they eventually became so thick, we eventually gave up trying not to touch them. Hiker-made trails along the banks were a lot easier and faster (although completely covered in ivy) than walking in the stream. But with Eros's knees starting to complain, we always took the easiest path we could find.

Now that the trip is several weeks behind us, I can say that we came out unscathed in the poison ivy department. I had a tiny patch show up on my belly about a week after the trip and that was it. I'm pretty sure we can credit wearing long-sleeved pants and shirts the entire time.


Above: Hector wades through a thicket of poison ivy that, at times, would be well over our heads.


Above: I was surprised at how extensive the poison ivy was; here, ivy commingles with cacti a good distance away from the stream.









Above: in a wider part of the canyon, a sandy path provides a quick shortcut.

At some point that afternoon, we came across a small garter snake stretched out over the trail with something in its mouth. At first I thought it was trying to swallow a mouse. Turns out, it was the hugest slug I'd ever seen. The slimy slug must have been about 3 times as wide as the snake, but it had the slug about halfway down!



Sometime that afternoon, the canyon began to constrict and the stream slipped and tumbled down the bedrock-floor through velvety cascades and inviting pools.






We all wished it had been hotter. I don't think it cracked 80 degrees that day, so I avoided getting too wet until I had to, in the upcoming lower narrows. Hector and Eros, however, couldn't resist any longer.


Above: Hector tries to slide down a mossy cascade. It wasn't nearly as slick as it looked though.



Above: Eros takes a swim in a particularly deep water hole.








The walls continued to close and we were soon entering Death Hollow's lower narrows. Some of the pools could be tip-toed around, but the sun had come out and warmed things up, so we didn't try too hard to get around them and we ended up swimming through the majority of the holes.

With my camera dry-bagged at this point, we again rely on Hector's GoPro for images in the slot.


(Hector Photo)



(Hector Photo)



(Hector Photo)




Below the narrows, it was more of the same--one stunning knock-your-socks-off scene after another.











Above: typical of many pools along the bedrock-floored canyons: you have about a 5-inch-wide ledge to balance across to stay dry. One little slip and you're going in the frigid 8-foot-deep pool.




I immediately recognized the spot where an occasional waterfall (dry on this trip) tumbles into Death Hollow. I had led a scout group up to this point last summer, so the rest of Death Hollow from here on was familiar territory for me. I knew we were getting close to the confluence and that we should start looking for a campsite.


Above: Eros descends a cascade with a large dry waterfall in the background.

Below: Photo of same area taken about a year earlier with the waterfall raging with water from an intense thunderstorm that had hit the day before.








Tired and cold, we stopped just short of the confluence when we happened upon a cozy campsite beneath a small alcove. After dinner and water filtering, Eros and Hector promptly holed up in their sleeping bags. I put on all my layers and tried to warm up as I watched the temperature (on my watch) drop into the upper 50s--even though the sun was out and it was only 7:30. I too soon relented and got into my fairly thin 30-degree bag (with most of my clothes still on) and was finally able to warm up enough to comfortably drift off. I slept comfortably knowing that no more surprises or tricky sections lay ahead.


Above: campsite #3.