End of the Death March

April 9, Day 8
The day started as I have long anticipated - woken by a chorus of songs by a bunch of coyotes, at least one very nearby. Far from being premature in my previous rant, I am now in Canyonlands National Park. I picked up supplies yesterday, as well as a participant for the section, Ron Thomas, a fellow Moabite who wants to see a bit deeper into his own backyard. After devouring a great lunch prepared by Ron’s wife Annie, we hoisted packs with eight days of food, two and a half days of water, snowshoes (really!), and began section three of the HT.




This park is incredible; huge, diverse, eye-opening, jaw-dropping scenery and geology greet you around every turn. It could be a massive pour-off (a waterfall in the canyon floor), a massive canyon to follow, like Cyclone Canyon today, part of the system of “graben” canyons (a graben canyon basically has had the walls pull apart from each other). If those don’t do it for you maybe the colorful and wild rock formations will. Red and white layers, with rippled strata create “mushrooms” hundreds of feet tall, spires and towers of equal stature abound, with yet other layers revealing fossilized remains of ancient sea beds.




Opting for a slightly different route though the Needles District, we decided to head up Red Lake Canyon, where the Hayduke Trail goes down. We added quite a few miles and a huge amount of vertical as we passed through the district’s namesake feature; the Needles, and then the magical Chesler Park. The pass we took thru the Needles was accessed via Devil’s Pocket, and when we hit the pass, so did the cold front, just from opposite sides. Snow was going sideways, winds were roaring through the rocks, and thunder began clapping as the temperature plummeted. That’s a hint as to why we have snowshoes in one of N. America’s driest desert. There’s been a lot of snow this season, and over the next few days we’ll be heading to over 7000’ elevation and quite possibly a significant snowpack. I like to say it’s better to have something and not need it than to need it and not have it, though that can get tricky when you’re carrying everything you may or may not need on your back. After the experience I had with Mitch at the beginning of our 101-day trek in 2000, I decided to go with the shoes.




April 10, Day 9
Woke to the sound of snow sloughing off the tent; here we go was all I could think, the going just got tougher. Waking up when it got light out revealed a quickly melting inch of snow; I was encouraged by the thought of potholes having water in them. We headed up Butler Wash towards Beef Basin after things dried out. Butler Wash is interesting, going from sandy bottom out in sage covered meadows to deep within wildly colored canyon walls. We explored more than we hoped to, mistaking a side canyon for the main drainage for a period. Realizing that things didn’t match the map anymore, we turned around, grabbing a gallon of water from a plunge pool, just in case we really bungled badly, and had to retreat to Canyonlands (losing a day on the schedule we have would prevent us from getting to Hite, the end of the section, on time).




April 13, Day 12
Exhausted is the feeling (again), huge are the surroundings (again). We left Fable Valley and headed up the side canyon; lots of water, a couple major pour-offs, and the surprise—fresh bear tracks! Lots of those! We even figured it was in our best interest to leave the old bruin behind, climbing to the rim of the canyon. The first thing we see up top: more bear tracks! Top is the Dark Canyon Plateau, and fortunately, the snow was only spotty; no need for the snowshoes. Ron and I also saw a fellow gathering antler sheds. We heard his cohort tooling all over the place on an ATV. Finding out this member of the San Juan County road department apparently didn’t feel obligated to stay on his own roads.




We easily found Young’s Canyon after coming over the plateau a short distance. As I usually try to do, we followed a fair amount of game trails, skirting meanders and pour-offs. One proved enormously beneficial; it lead us almost to the top, just up-canyon from where we had to find a route out anyway. We then followed the canyon rim around to the psycho descent back down to the canyon floor, which like others on the journey, has plenty of water flowing in it.




April 15, day 14
Dark Canyon was different than the last time I was through here in 1998. First, we saw people down in the canyon, last time we went ten days through the area without seeing anyone at all. The canyon was still beautiful, in fact we found some “ruins” that we neglected to stumble upon on my first pass. The floor was just as amazing; lined with fossils, the walls of the canyon just as big, we even saw a California Condor soaring in an updraft.




The big difference this time though, is the water. No longer the delightful clear creek I remembered, this time the water was a raging reddish mud that brought a feeling of dread to me when we first realized the volume that was coursing through the canyon, in a drainage that would have to be crossed numerous times. Coming out of Young’s, we made a test crossing and found it doable. Good thing; there weren’t many options to continuing on the way we planned. Deciding that conditions were within our margin of risk, we pushed on towards the Sundance Trail, our exit point for the morning. Knowing there were at least a couple of groups in the canyon (we saw their footprints, something we hadn’t been seeing much of on the rest of the section), we camped just shy of the climb. This morning, we were less than thrilled to find the volume perhaps double what it was yesterday. We still had to cross three more times too. We got to do those at yesterday’s peak melt, which was just making it down to our area, so it also happened to be even icier than yesterday.




The last crossing almost was my last—period. Trying to cross in the wider, and therefore, shallower and slower sections, I stumbled into a chest deep pool, and there’s no way to keep footing in that deep water with that kind of flow. Ron grabbed my pole and pulled me to the edge. Just one hazard of many, compounded by my upcoming solitary travels, following an itinerary with no margin. The idea I’d been toying around with was now a decision; this journey was going to change.




April 18
Greetings from Moab! After completing the first three sections of the Hayduke Trail and almost 150 miles, I’ve decided to approach things slightly differently. As I worked to keep the trip together after Mitch’s “cancellation,” I strived to end the journey around the same time as originally planned, as I need to get back to work so I can keep my new home (besides the fact that it gets hot in the desert in the summer!!). I lost quite a bit of travel time as I rearranged the itinerary, got permits, and placed caches. That has left a very aggressive schedule on the trail, one that is physically possible, but didn’t allow for much exploration time. I want to enjoy this journey, and I want to see where I’m passing through. Both Ron and I were miffed at the discovery of a possibly untouched archeological site, yet we didn’t have the extra couple of hours we needed to climb to it.




The schedule is that tight. Besides, this isn’t supposed to be a death march, it’s supposed to be a reward for the time put into researching such a cross-country route as the Hayduke Trail.

So instead of having a resupply at Hite with our wives as planned, where Ron was also leaving, I opted to head back to Moab and recalibrate the trek. (I’ve since been alerted to an experienced long distance hiker who began the HT with a 12 mile per day plan who has already found that pace to be impossible to maintain).




Am I giving up? NO WAY! My concession is that I am going to have to eliminate a couple of sections and use the time originally allotted for those sections to extend the time I’m on the sections that I’ll still travel.

I guess that’s going to leave bragging rights for the first end-to-end Hayduke Trail expedition open...Hope you enjoyed these photos I managed to send along of the Canyonlands.

Once again, next communication will be from the Hayduke Trail!

Keep it Wild,
Mike Coronella

Soloing the Hayduke

Editor's Note: Mike sent his latest post by letter, mailed from the trail. Needless to say, the envelope was a bit dusty!

Hey MountainZoners!

Finally, on the Hayduke Trail! It's now my third day out - sort of. I began a day later than hoped, so I simply eliminated the first 15 miles or so, starting in Arches National Park and walking through Courthouse Wash right to my house, which is coincidentally on the Hayduke Trail.

Day two involved a 20 mile mountain bike mission, leaving this long-ago biker with one bruised tush! At least the ThermaRest is soft! My neighbor, Ron Thomas, met me with my pack and supplies, taking the bike back and sending me on my way, setting up a 13.5 mile day.

The winds have been howling the last two days, adding to the strain on my not quite toned legs. I’ve already seen three bighorn sheep, one large bull snake, a wild turkey and two skydivers.

It’s now day six and I am already almost done with section two! I’ve walked hard the last few days, and can feel it in my fatigued muscles. Today’s hike, one of my “shorter” days, left me exhausted. I began the day by Indian Creek, climbing out of the gorge out to the “top.” It was a test of sorts, as it’s tough navigation – one wrong turn and you’re in deep, deep desolation and deep shit! It was immensely satisfying to “pop-out” right where I both hoped and expected to.

As I slowly get past the mechanics – configuring the pack and load, getting the body in shape, and getting used to breaking camp each morning and setting up each night - I’m finding myself both intimidated at the prospect of soloing for such a challenging journey as well as exhilarated at the idea of depending so greatly on, well, me! (It makes me wonder when our society became such a dependent bunch: so much for “Yankee know how,” now it’s TVs and ATVs)

So far, only two small issues: one, my pan has a pinhole leak, no big deal really, hopefully it’ll get replaced at my re-supply meeting tomorrow; two, the zero degree bag is roasting! A week ago, it would have been fine. The light bag better show up with the pan!

One thing I’ve noticed on my short time out is a lack of coyotes – no prints, no scat, no night-time chorus. I have seen cat poop, but again, no tracks. All seemingly replaced by cow-trampled, overgrazed areas plastered with manure. Let’s see – we give the deserts to the cattle and oil industries, we’ll allow exhaust belching machines to trample the rest, unless it’s so spectacular that we close it off as a national park and charge people to visit. WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?

How did we become so detached from the land that supports our very existence? How is it that the fat slob who rarely leaves the couch in a 1,000 square foot home, except to drive to work in a gas-guzzling SUV can claim any type of superiority, moral or otherwise, over any other creature – mammal or plant? Tunnel vision with a mirror at the end of the tunnel? Our rate of consumption is killing us and our planet. A super-sized fast food meal has more calories than my daily menu, yet I’ve got enough energy to haul my pack through this amazing place. Again, how did we become so detached? Oh well, rant over!

I’m sure there will be more as I continue to find more degradation. I’ll close this post with one last thought: WWHD? What Would Hayduke Do? Would he allow himself to be bullied by the corporate hacks? Or would he stand up and fight for what he cares for?

Keep it wild,
Mike Coronella on the HT

Moment of Truth

Boy, has the Hayduke Trail Adventure I've been planning for well over a year suddenly changed. A last minute bailout by Mitch, complete with his announcement that the adventure had been cancelled, has left me scrambling to pick up the pieces: no maps, no permits, no partner. As of this writing, I think I’ve covered all the bases; permits are secure, caches are placed around the desert where they need to be, resupply meetings are arranged. I’m happy to report that any rumors of the demise of the inaugural Hayduke Trail expedition have been greatly exaggerated! (It’s now scheduled to go from April 1 to June 24)

Now I have the unique opportunity to experience a bunch of the Hayduke Trail on a one-man expedition, though I’ll be joined by my dog Aldo on some the solo sections. On other sections different folks will jump along for the ride; friends will join me in Canyonlands and the Grand Canyon; one of my two brothers will join me for some slot canyons, and visits from a journalist or two are also on the horizon.

The situation of the expedition changed rather quickly, yet things sometimes have a way of working out. Sponsors were still in, University of Utah Press, the publisher of our guidebook was still willing to help with expenses, and a host of people were interested in coming along and/or helping out. I’ll be depending on many people now to keep this trip moving forward. I somehow even managed to get my first choice of itineraries in the Grand Canyon, where permits for some of the better-visited areas along the Hayduke Trail can be impossible to obtain this late in the game. It took a “quick” trip to the South Rim to secure, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to make things happen. At least a friend visiting from out of town got an unexpected jaunt to view into the abyss that’s been slowly etched through the layers of the Colorado Plateau by it’s namesake river (my friend Dan, an old buddy from Rutgers, left with a glazed look in his eyes while saying something about coming along for the whole three month journey).

My trip to gather permits basically followed much of the route, allowing a glimpse into the condition of some of the roads and areas where I’d planned caches. I often found way too much snow on the ground to access the areas where I’d then have to dig through several feet of snow just to see just if there was a place to stash my goods, as well as giving an idea of the snow level, since I’ll be traveling at over 7000’ feet just weeks from the start of the trip. As there was solid snowpack around 6400’, it looks like the new snowshoes (obtained from MSR, just in case) were well planned; I’ll be needing them on at least two sections. I discovered that placing caches on the Kaibab Plateau, on the way to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, would be out of the question; a resupply meet for two different sections would be needed (to top that off, the Grandview Trail, on the south rim, is closed due to the fact that part of the upper trail slid into the gorge over the winter, preventing a planned resupply on Horseshoe Mesa).

On my permit quest, I also got a glimpse at the water conditions of some of the drainages in the region: the Little Colorado River had more water than I’ve ever seen, and that was miles from the “big” Colorado River, which was running through the National Park the color it was intended to be; a highly sediment-loaded reddish mud, as opposed to the clear ice-cold green water spewing from the Glen Canyon Damn. The Paria River, seen while traveling to get permits for the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument showed that it was doing its share to send some sediment downriver to repair long scoured beaches in the planet’s most spectacular gorge, running at a rich chocolate-milkshake consistency. The word at the BLM office (where I obtained Glen Canyon NRA, Grand Staircase NM, and Capitol Reef NP permits) was that the Escalante River is already running too swiftly to cross safely.

A view into the Dirty Devil revealed much the same story; considerably more water than one would normally expect to see in March. I guess I can expect to find water more often, and that springs will be recharged due to the well above average precipitation so far this season. I also will be adjusting to the copious volume of water by not only floating the Escalante River, as previously planned, but now I’ll be hoofing in a life-jacket to maximize my survival potential (no point in being cocky out there; I know the scope of my existence in this massive walk through Mother Nature’s very soul); after all, I have a new wife, family, and home to return to after the journey.

Another concession to my frequent solo status is a new-fangled piece of technology; an escape of last resort known as a “TerraFix” Personal Locator Beacon (thanks to ACR Engineering!), an electronic panic-button that summons rescuers via satellite transmission. I sure hope I won’t be using that!

It’s now the moment of truth; the last minute tweaks to the load are done, the plan is in place. I’ve got everything that I’m going to have for the next almost three months either in my backpack, or in buckets spread around the region, from my garage, to Salt Lake City and Seattle, and under dispersed rocks and trees around the desert.
I’ll try this one more time…the next communication should be from out on the Hayduke Trail!

Keep it Wild,
Mike Coronella