[photos and reference links coming in May]
Started walking around 0700 with about two liters to get me through the day if I want to avoid an onerous detour. Yesterday’s aches are gone for now. Gonna be another hot day, though. The stove worked well last night, boiled fast! Maybe the combo of low wind and lower elevation helped. Unfortunately I must have used 1L+ of water cooking a family-sized Idahoan, first time ever eating one. Won’t be buying anymore on this trip.
After a mile or two I left the road for another Barthe alternate that cuts straight down “Lockhart Cliff” instead of following the wash around and in. From where I popped out at the cliff band I had to search farther to the right than I expected, I estimate 3-5 lines of sight around coves in the cliff. For comparison, on the Great Wall you could see the hard part all in one view. I just found the hopeful crux of my route, a short chimney-boulder problem. Easy as bouldering goes, but nerve wracking for being in the middle of nowhere with 2 liters. Like the Great Wall, the scariest part was the uncertainty over whether I could climb up again if needed. I verified before committing and it was nothing to write home about.
After the cliff I tried to breathe through my nose and just walk. The route contoured around the flat rim between a series of canyon arms below and the mesa above. Followed the tracks of Haydukers past, sometimes beaten into the ground and sometimes disappearing suddenly. One time I continued walking five minutes before wondering if I’d missed a turn. I had, and it wasn’t even a hard one — Skurka’s map had a note on it. No zoning out on the Hayduke.
Somehow there were still roads in the canyons, leading from Fuckadang Nowhere to Drywater Gulch. I walked fast through Lockhart Basin, fueled by an hour’s shade break, the last liter of town water (I was able to replace it from an alkaline stream I hadn’t counted on), and the desire to get out of there ASAP. The sky was blue like when fire is really hot, spewing from jets in a great upside-down oven, and you’re in there broiling and you need to go go go.
Mars — with rock wrens, cowpats, and whatever that plant is. It had never occurred to me that such a place exists on Earth. Between Aquamira and the alkalinity, my water now tastes like a salted swimming pool.
While checking the guidebook for instructions on the Rustler Canyon descent, I read that Mitch and Mike saw desert bighorns in the area, witnessed a flash flood, and say that “every side canyon is worth exploring.” It made me feel stupid for rushing through thinking about Mars and ovens. So I slowed down and took a lot of pictures.
The down-climb to bypass the pouroff in Rustler Canyon was the wackest yet!!! Once through, I walked away talking to myself, “WTF, WTF.” I took pictures and videos.
In the evening I reached the object of my water hopes and the goal of my 30 mile carry: Indian Creek. The only water there was a few filmy tea-colored puddles. I was shocked. Filtered it through my bandana (very slow) then treated with Aquamira. I had taken 5 liters from the Colorado yesterday at noon, 30 miles ago. I needed 7 — that alkaline stream near Lockhart Basin saw me through. The scariest part was the thought of being in a similar situation but with no backup sources. Thank God for that alkaline stream, the aqueous portion of the puddles in Indian Creek, and the Colorado River a few miles down-canyon.
Dinner cooked while I filled from a puddle: ramen seasoned with cheese and carrots, so as to avoid using the thirst-inducing flavor packet. Then as darkness fell I climbed out (really, on all fours) to a place Mitch and Mike described as “the middle of nowhere.”(“Your route finding and navigational skills must be impeccable in order to proceed!”) I made it partway up and called it for the day. So tired. A celestial show. Wow, what a day.