DECISION
We had two options to consider. The first option was to connect with the trail just below and enjoy a nice, nine-mile scenic trail ride back to the truck. Option two was to explore a new canyon that dropped off the opposite side of the ridge and drained into a main canyon just above the trailhead, also about nine miles. We will call this “Waterfall Canyon.” This is a canyon that I had been eyeing for quite some time, but had yet to drop below its upper reaches due to lack of mid-elevation snow cover in the prior several winters.
Zak and Ryan stated that their preference was to take the trail home. However, I persuaded them to take the adventurous route and assured my riding companions that the route would not be that difficult. I clearly remember Zak saying, “I can’t handle one more stuck.” I’m not one to accuse Zak of being a liar, but he definitely was able to handle a lot more than one stuck…as you will see.
The first several miles of the canyon were full of great boondocking and fun creek beds. Everyone seemed to catch a second wind as we played our way through this new (to us) creek bottom. As we dropped in elevation the canyon walls gradually became steep and densely wooded, and the creek bottom soon was the only passible route. As we continued down, the creek bottom became increasingly technical, with many logs and small drop offs obstructing the way. After a while I realized––perhaps too late––that it would not be possible to climb back out of this canyon if we had to turn around. The only option now was to make it through the bottom somehow.
Under different circumstances, I would have had a blast in these technical sections. But it was getting dark, my riding partners were exhausted and I began to question my judgment in taking this new route out so late in the day.
The canyon continued to get more technical as the sun set. We struggled through several extremely difficult sections of large pillows and big holes. However, I knew we were getting close to the bottom and from the bottom of this canyon it was only a few miles to the trucks. As we waited for Zak at one point, I commented to Ryan that, worst-case scenario, we could walk out in a few hours.
We continued down and tackled a variety of obstacles. We sawed half a dozen medium-sized logs out of the way, dug tunnels under several massive logs, and built ramps over others. One section involved some mandatory drops of 5-10 feet, definitively barring any possibility of riding back up (not to mention that we no longer had the fuel to go back). I was amazed by how methodically our group was moving through this terrain that had almost certainly never seen a snowmobile. I thought to myself that Andrew McCarthy would have deemed this country to be the definition of "tangly!"
As the main canyon bottom drew near, the creek bed briefly mellowed out and I figured it would be smooth sailing home. Riding a wave of new-found optimism, I rounded a corner and the steep canyon walls suddenly funneled into cliffs on both sides. I approached the cliffs slowly (it was dark now), and saw that the creek went over a waterfall. I walked to the edge to check it out; my stomach sank when I realized that this was a tall waterfall. Too tall to see the bottom in the dark.
It was now 7:30 pm and we were between a waterfall and a hard place. I immediately recognized that our only choice was to walk out and figure out how to retrieve the sleds later. There was absolutely no way around the cliffs or back up, and certainly not off the falls.