6. The Trek: Sheep Canyon to Stovepipe Wells

Following is an excerpt from the working draft of my book:

…It dawned on me as I made my way across Gold Valley that I might not make it as far as I had hoped before nightfall. I paced amidst enormous rays of light, like the fingers of God, as they slowly raked across the valley floor.   My original plan was to sleep at the mouth of Sheep Canyon, but my aching hip and midday bathing had lost me a few hours.  I barely reached the saddle above the canyon in time to watch a stunning view of Telescope Peak fade to black in the distance.

I contemplated making camp there on the saddle, but that would push my next day’s travel to well over thirty miles. This debate over whether or not to descend into Sheep Canyon in the dark was furthered fueled by a story I was told of a group of hikers who, in this very spot, had inadvertently descended into the wrong canyon and gotten lost.  I had no contingency for such a major mistake.

I paced along the saddle and eventually had to succumb to the fact that my only choice was to drop down into the canyon and make up some of the day’s lost mileage.  Though my mind had made the decision to descend, my body remained as still as the evening air.    The beam of my headlamp faded far short of the canyon floor and rendered only a steep black abyss into which I stared.

A light breeze picked up from behind as I continued to contemplate the 700ft. descent that I was about to attempt after nearly twenty miles of cross-country travel.  The breeze steadily grew until it felt like a cool hand against the sweat on the small of my back.  It eventually felt as if this wind was actually nudging me toward the canyon.  I’m not sure how, but this breeze gave me the confidence to trust my tired legs enough to take my first step down.  I then startled myself with the forgotten sound of my own voice as I spoke aloud, “God, I’m in you hands.”  I’m still not sure if there was some connection between the wind and God that night, but in that moment there appeared to be.

The steep grade of the canyon is made even more dangerous by the loose talus that constantly gives way below your feet, causing you to gradually slide down into the canyon.  I knew from the very first step that I was committed.  I was, one way or another, going to end up on the canyon floor.   This made it impossible to judge a proper route when combined with the darkness and the speed at which I had to make my decisions.  A few exposed boulders allowed me brief pauses where I was able to refocus my mind as I perched hundreds of feet above the darkness.  A haunting echo emitting from the depths followed a few falling stones which rolled off these boulders.  This served as a reminder of my current, and still formidable, height.

I continued to slide down most of the decent, desperately struggling to control my speed and balance by fiercely stabbing my flexing trekking poles into the slope.  The canyon floor eventually grew faintly visible in the far reaches of my headlamp.  This gave me much needed confidence that my legs just might hold out long enough to safely reach the bottom.  The gravel soon gave way to large granite walls.  Climbing down these steep slabs eventually presented me with the level and firm surface I had hoped to reach under my own power.

Now, all that I could to do was pray that I was indeed in Sheep Canyon.