Canyons & Peaks: 2-day Excursion Through Little Death Hollow and the Henry Mountains

In early November, before snow began piling up in southern Utah's high deserts, I completed a fast-paced tour through Little Death Hollow, and a bike/hike combo to the top of the Henry Mountains. Squeezing both treks into just two days (including drive-time from home) left me exhausted, but it's taxing adventures like these that rejuvenate my soul and renew my excitement for future adventures.

After dropping the kids off at school and winding my way along Highway 12 and the Burr Trail, I found myself on the edge of the Circle Cliffs at about 1 pm.  I had about 5 hours of daylight to complete the 18-mile Little Death Hollow-Wolverine Canyon loop.

Much of Little Death Hollow is runable, so I ran when I felt like it, and walked at times as well--but always at a steady pace since I didn't want to finish in the dark.

They don't call it Death Hollow for nothing. Occasionally, cows wander into the canyon and either can't navigate their way out or are caught in flash floods. 

Canyon hackles.

Although Little Death Hollow closes into a true slot often, a lack of serious obstacles means ropes and technical gear are unnecessary.

The tall, closely spaced canyon walls rarely let sunlight penetrate to the canyon floor. I'd always take a minute to bask in the light and warm up when the opportunity presented itself.

Unlike most Colorado Plateau slot canyons which are typically carved into the Navajo Sandstone, Little Death Hollow is cut into the Wingate Sandstone--an older unit of similar character that looks pretty much identical to the Navajo here.

Partially buried petroglyphs in upper Little Death Hollow.

A few yellow leaves cling to the branches of giant Cottonwood near an old shack in Horse Canyon. Horse Canyon connects Little Death Hollow to Wolverine Canyon, so you ultimately get to see bits of three different canyons along the loop.

Wolverine Canyon has its own flavor. This is about as narrow as it gets and never truly slots up. But it is still a spectacular canyon with impressively tall walls, countless interesting weathering pits, and tons of petrified wood boulders that have been washed down from upcanyon.

Cool honeycomb features in Wolverine Canyon.

About midway through Wolverine, water bubbles to the surface and appears to be pretty permanent source.

One of thousands of petrified log chunks you'll see throughout this area. This is the pretty kind that has been agatized and displays various shades of red and purple.

I finished the 18-mile loop just after sundown in a little over 5 hours.

This is great loop because each canyon offers its own variety of scenery. The non-technical nature, high wow-factor, and reliable water sources, would make this a great option for a backpack trip with the family some day.

I didn't pass a single other car as I made my way in the dark across the interior of the Circle Cliffs and down the tight switchbacks descending Capitol Reef's Water Pocket fold and headed north onto Notom Road.

Sleep came quick that night in Cedar Mesa Campground--no matter that some dude in the adjacent campsite broke out the guitar and serenaded his girl late into the AM.

My legs felt a bit thrashed as I laid in my sleeping bag and I worried if I'd be able to complete the nearly 50-mile bike ride the next day to the top of the Henrys.

My climb started at 9 am at Sandy Junction on Notom Road, elevation 5300 feet. 

The route starts out pretty mild, crossing Sandy Creek, and following a gentle grade up Blind Trail Hollow to the top of Wildcat Mesa. Lifeless, moonscape-like Mancos badlands are a constant companion along this section. It's hard to imagine that I'll soon be up in thick alpine forests in a few hours.

Once on Wildcat Mesa, I got my first good look at the treeless crest of the Henry Mountains' South Summit Ridge. The true highpoint of the Henrys is out of view to the left. From here, the road not only gets steep, it gets consistently steep with few breaks.

Beyond McMillan Spring Campground (McClellan Spring on USGS 1:24k map??), commanding views open up into the surrounding desert below. This view to the west presents remnants of Tarantula Mesa in the foreground, upturned red and white sandstones of the Water Pocket fold in the mid-distance, and the once-glaciated, lava-flow-topped Boulder Mountain on the horizon.

After 24 miles and 6,000 feet of climbing on already tired legs, the sign for Bull Creek Pass was a welcome site.

After stashing my bike in some trees at the pass, I only had what would normally be an easy 4-mile and 1200-foot climb out to Mt Ellen and back, before the long coast back to my car. There was a hiker that had driven to the pass/trailhead and was about a 1/4 mile ahead of me as I hit the trail. I figured it would be fun to try and catch him, and I did gain on him, but the altitude, and my tired legs wouldn't let me kick it into a higher gear and he beat me to the top.

That hiker was Terry from London and he is nice guy. We chatted as much as we could, but the gale-force winds made it difficult to communicate. Terry loves exploring the desert Southwest, and has made several trips to the region over the years. He had just come from the Grand Canyon and was taking advantage of the mild fall weather and venturing farther north into Utah and Colorado. Interestingly, he also mentioned that he specifically wanted to be in America during our presidential election--I'm guessing for the entertainment value.

I reached the top at around 2:30 or 3 pm, making the ascent from Notom Road in under 6 hours. After snapping each other's photos and discussing road conditions down the west side of the mountain (Terry had come up from the east side of the range), I started jogging back down to my bike. If I hustled, I knew I could get back to my car before dark.

The golden hour just before sunset looks good on Wildcat Mesa.

With a fast and uneventful descent (the highlight was seeing Terry one last time as he passed in his car, oh, and I guess the sunset wasn't too bad either), I completed the trip with just a touch of sunlight still kissing the top of the Henrys. Total elapsed time for this climb was about 8.5 hours.

Wisely, I packed some cold, caffeinated beverages to ensure I could stay awake during the 4-hour drive back to Cedar City.