A LITTLE SNAKY
The sounds of screaming
children woke me the next morning. A
family had moved into the adjacent campsite, and kids were running
everywhere. This wasn’t so bad, except
for the youngest child. Apparently his
(or her?) only means of communication was a brain-piercing scream four or five
octaves higher than any human being should be capable of producing. This seemed to go on all morning. For all I could tell, that child could’ve
been delighted, or suffering horrible agony. There was really no way to know. Personally, I wasn’t delighted.
I ate breakfast quickly and
headed for
The forecast called for only
mostly cloudy conditions, but a chance of thunderstorms the following day. With those concerns behind me, I headed for
the
I paid another $5 fee and
left the trailhead at 10am. Initially I
followed a path before joining a sandy open wash. Before long, I passed the junction with the
trail to Coyote Buttes and the Wave.
This area is heavily regulated, as only a limited number of people are
allowed to visit each day. All of the
available reservations were taken when I planned my trip, and I decided to skip
applying for a walk-up permit. That
requires waiting in a lottery, and I wasn’t in the mood to jump through those
hoops.
I continued down the dry
wash. After a few sweeping curves, the
wash drops down into the narrow slot of
Wire pass does involve a few
minor obstructions. Currently there are
5 drop offs that must be down-climbed.
Fortunately they are only a few feet high. I was able to get down without much
difficulty, although a couple did require removing my pack.
The slot eventually opened
up into a wider passage featuring a pretty alcove in a high, red-stained cliff
wall. There is a bench near the top of
the alcove, and moki steps carved into the rock
provide access. I climbed up, hoping to
find Indian ruins. There are no ruins
there, but the bench in the alcove would make a cool campsite. I did find some interesting petroglyphs on
the wall just beyond the alcove though.
Just beyond, I spotted a 4” long, neon green centipede crawling in the
dirt. It wasn’t as cool as a Tarantula,
but it was pretty close.
Just beyond the alcove,
I headed down the canyon,
and the walls quickly closed in. The
canyon was perhaps 100’ deep, and maybe 10’ wide in this section. Before long, I reached the first of many
muddy pools. I hesitated before plunging
in. It was dark in the canyon, and it
was impossible to see into the water. I
knew the pools would be cold, but how deep were they? I’d read reports that sometimes hikers have
to hold their packs over their heads. Might
there be quicksand at the bottom? What
if there was something, you know, living in them? Gollum?? Boy, if wading through icy waist deep pools
of smelly water, at the bottom of a deep, dark, narrow canyon doesn’t give you
the heebie jeebies, what
does?
I’ve wanted to hike Buckskin
Gulch for years, so this wasn’t going to stop me. I eased into the first one, feeling the
clammy rush of the icy water filling my boots.
I prodded ahead of me with my trekking pole, but that was only
marginally useful. The pole sank into
the mud at the bottom of each hole, so it was hard to tell how deep it really
was. I tried balancing on submerged
rocks, but that only created more of a hazard.
The last thing I needed to do was slip and dunk
my camera in one of those muddy cauldrons.
Fortunately, the worst of
the pools that I encountered was only knee deep. However, I didn’t quite make it to the
charmingly-named Cesspool, which is apparently the deepest pool in the
canyon.
I sloshed through a series
of pools, at one point passing under a huge pile of debris lodged between the
walls of the canyon. That debris had
been left there, 20’ up, after one of the many floods. Then the canyon opened into a rare wide
area. Here I found sandy banks, complete
with thick vegetation and even a few trees.
After the wet darkness of the dungeon behind me, the sunshine here felt
wonderful. I had kept a leisurely pace
to this point, exploring and taking lots of photos. As a result, I arrived in this area right at
lunch time. There was no chance I would
pass it by.
After lunch, I continued
down the canyon. It remained wide for a
while, snaking back and forth in tight curves.
At the outside of each, I found an impressive alcove. A few minutes later, a long straight stretch
signaled the end of the wide part of the canyon. It was here that I passed a group of hikers
heading the other direction. They were
the only people I saw all day.
Another section of narrows
followed. The canyon then briefly
widened, leading to an area of large boulders.
The boulders created a bit of an obstruction that required a bit of scrambling
to negotiate. Beyond the boulders, the
canyon closed in for the final time.
From here, the canyon remains only a few feet wide almost all the way to
the confluence with the
This next section was my
favorite part of Buckskin. I explored it
for another hour or so, wandering through one tight passage after another. Eventually time constraints forced me to turn
around. Still, the hike out was
delightful. It felt like I was deep in
the bowels of the Earth. High vertical
walls, stained red and black, raced above me to a narrow sliver of blue sky far
above. There was a whole other world up
there, but it was nice to leave it behind for a while. Hiking through Buckskin reminded me of cave
exploration, except of course for that slim hole in the ceiling. That hole provided a little light,
particularly around mid-day. Later that
afternoon though, the canyon became dark, and spooky. It was then that I started seeing the snakes.
I nearly stepped on the
first one. In the dim light, it was
almost impossible to see the canyon floor.
The gorge was littered with rocks and driftwood and other debris. The only reason I saw him is that he
moved. He was only a few feet away, and
I jumped with an utter lack of grace.
Once my pulse returned to normal, I paused to examine him. It was another small snake, much like the
ones I’d seen in the Paria narrows. It was skinny, and less than 2’ long. It looked like a rattlesnake, but there was
no actual rattle present. At this point,
I’m not sure if it was a rattlesnake, or not.
The next one definitely
was. Fortunately I spotted it before it
was underfoot. This snake was similar,
but featured a more distinct, triangular head.
It also had a small button rattle at the end of its tail, which it
failed to shake.
The next snake was probably
not a rattlesnake. Although it looked
similar to the others, its head was more rounded, and it had no rattle.
By this point, I was a
little jumpy. I’d seen 3 snakes in an
hour, and it was getting increasingly difficult to see. After that, I found myself staring at the
ground ahead of me. This was a shame,
considering the fantastic scenery all around me. Eventually I reached the wide part of the
canyon again, followed by the final section of narrows with its many muddy
pools. I reached the junction with
I climbed the dry falls in
I made it back to camp right
at sunset. When I arrived, I found a
group at my picnic table cooking dinner.
They were a group from
Later I dined on spaghetti
again, and enjoyed another campfire and more beer. The stars were outstanding again that night,
as the clouds had blown off. It was a
pleasant final evening, as I was heading out the next morning.
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