How to Execute a "Controlled-Slick Rock Slide"

*Disclaimer - any bitching or complaining that may occur below is real, however I wouldn't trade this experience for the world!

As all good stories should start, this one begins with an invitation to a secret waterfall location. Now I'm a pretty competent hiker and I knew that going hiking with H would most likely test my abilities.... I had no idea.

This secret waterfall location was so super-secret that the waterfall itself was secret, and our quest (the TOP of said secret waterfall) was a secret upon a secret. (How many times can I use secret in one sentence... has it lost its meaning for you too?)

Most awesome secret waterfall spot... If Backpacker mag
hasn't found it yet, I'm sure it'll happen soon. Our mission
was to get to the top!

Of course I jumped at the chance to go on a super-secret location hike! H said that it'd be a few miles, maybe 6 or 7, and we'd be walking in water all the way there so I'd need river shoes. I actually had to BORROW Chaco sandals. (I can't believe there was a time when I didn't own a pair of Chacos.) Thanks to D, I had a pair of river sandals for the day that were super-comfy and would begin my lifelong love affair with Chacos.

Early in the morning, H and I packed up the car and headed over the mountain to a turn-off marked only by a "weirdly-shaped white splotched rock" which we actually drove by a few times before H saw it.

Super. Super. Secret.

From there we hiked a mile or so up the winding highway before leaving the blacktop and heading down, down, down into a canyon.

We pretty quickly reached the river that would be our guide for the next few hours. It was cool and inviting in the desert summer heat. Even with my walking stick, I slipped a few times on mossy rocks and uneven river bottoms. One time, I slipped on a moss-covered rock, fell on my ass and then slid down the long rock slide to a pool below... not on purpose. My yelp as I fell, and the accompanying scream of glee as I slid, startled H and he came rushing back to help me. I burst out laughing as I hit the pool, which seemed to calm H down.

The next few miles (hours) were serene. Cool breezes raced through the red-rocked canyon, carrying wildflower scents and bird trills along the river corridor. The cool ever-present water kept me refreshed as we walked beneath large cottonwoods. At some point, the water and a sandal strap conspired against me and rubbed my big toe raw. Digging through my daypack for a makeshift bandage (band-aids won't work in the water!) I found an emergency tampon with a plastic wrapper. I figured that would work! The next few miles were hiked with a yellow and white tampon wrapper knotted around my big toe, foiling the sandal's attempt at ruining my hike.

H and I engaged in that halting, stream-of-consciousness style conversation that is common amongst hiking companions. I learned a lot about him, and he about me. All in all, this was shaping up to be a fantastically lovely day.

As we were hiking, the rock strata around us was changing. We began to enter into the white Navajo layer (my favorite geological layer) that would later be the key to the Controlled Slick Rock Slide. The canyon walls began to fall away, widening out as the river grew narrower, deeper, and faster. We were nearing the top of the most awesome secret waterfall. Luckily the top of this tall fall was surrounded by rocks and there was little worry about being washed over the edge. There was however a great chance of getting stuck in large human-sized potholes. How do I know this?....

Look below! Seems like some hikers found the secret waterfall...

In order to see over the edge of the fall and get this shot, I had to cross some very large and deep potholes. Going down to get to this shot was easy, coming back I got stuck. Picture me boob-deep in a water-filled pothole that's lined with slick moss that ensures I'll never climb out.

H held on to my camera and daypack as I spent a half hour or so trying in vain to get the hell outta the hole. I tried climbing; I tried chimneying; I tried climbing onto H as he held onto some rocks for support. Nothing. Finally, using a combination of chimneying, jumping, grasping for H, and general anxiety-ridden strength, I got out. I was tired and ready for a serene walk back up the water to the car.

But no! H said the quickest way back was to climb straight up the side of the sloping Navajo sandstone. The car was straight above us "only 1,500 feet up or so". (true story) As I gazed straight up the side of this sandstone wall, calculating the slope versus my borrowed sandals ability to cling to slickrock, I began to rationalize a 6 mile walk back in the river in the dark. Most of the slope was slick and straight up. We'd have to literally run up it to maintain enough speed and traction. All in all, this was not looking good. Luckily, there were some ridges that were a few inches wide to rest on higher up. If only I could reach them...

H took off running up the side of the canyon, leaving me to follow along. A few hundred feet up, I slowed down just enough to lose my footing and start sliding back. My first instinct was to lay flat out against the rock, like a lizard. This only worked to slow down the slide, not stop it.

So there I am, laying flat against hot white sandstone, solid ground a few hundred feet below, sliding (falling) uncontrollably. I looked up the wall, screaming for H as my fingers frantically scrambled for anything to grab. Even a quarter inch of protruding rock would have been welcomed. Nothing...

H comes running (falling) down the rock wall to me, grabbing my hands to stop me from gaining speed. As he grabs my hands, I realize all of this sliding down super-rough sandstone has pulled the front of my rapidly disappearing t-shirt up, up, up around my neck. I stopped sliding just as my bra began to go with the shirt! Once I quit moving and caught my breath, I began laughing at the absurdity of my situation.... abrasions on my stomach, bra and t-shirt dangerously up around my neck, my supervisor holding my arms in an attempt to keep me from plummeting into a canyon. This shit could only happen in Utah, and possibly only to me.

After I decided to sidestep my way to a less-steep section, clinging desperately to the wall, I was on my way up again. Some running, some climbing, sweating constantly. 1,000 feet in elevation later, I met up with H and stopped for a snack, surveying the trek below. H took a photo of me to commemorate my first lesson in "controlled slickrock sliding".

You can't see the abrasions on the right side of my face but trust me, they're
there! Check out the green trees down in the canyon. Only a few hours earlier
they were offering us shade.

Only a few more feet to go and we'd be on the highway. This part was also extremely steep and had us literally clinging to plants to pull ourselves up. Of course, H was ahead of me. I watched as he reached his hand up to the lip of the highway to grab ahold and hoist himself out of this canyon. Just as his hand hit the tarmac, right on the yellow line, a car flew by. I'm surprised they didn't wreck! Imagine driving on a road cut at the top of a ridge, thousands of feet drop away just inches from your tire, and seeing a dirty hand come up out of nowhere! Zombies!!

We did manage to get out of the canyon and onto the road, after looking both ways. The rest of our hike was back along the highway a half mile to the car. I decided if H could teach me a new trick, I'd teach him one too. He learned to finger-twirl my hiking stick like a baton as we walked back to the car. That night I surveyed the damage... abrasions on my stomach, knees, ankles, toes, elbows, face, forearms and fingers, and a sunburn. I washed the blood off the borrowed sandals and threw away my shirt due to the holes rubbed into it. Spoils of a great adventure.

It was a fantastic and terrifying adventure, but we set out to get to the top of the waterfall and we did (without loss of life or limb), so it was a success!

A year later I was driving along the road with my parents, who had heard
the saga, and thought they'd like to see where this all took place. Right
where my finger is lies the slope we came up...