Last Chance Canyon- Camp Night 8

As usual, click the photos for my awesome flickr page of these photos.


The next morning I filtered a couple of quarts of water and started up Roberts canyon. I didn't really have anything in mind, other trying to see every nook and cranny.

Soon I saw an interesting place up the canyon wall


A little hole in the rock that might make a good place to see down Roberts Canyon, and to have a little lunch. If it had been a little deeper, it could have been used as an Apache rock shelter, but I don't believe it was used as one. The little research I have done indicates that it would have been a little deep, and there were no signs of fire. It was also on a south facing slope, which would give more sun, and maybe some wind protection in the winter, but would be much too warm in the summer time. I cannot really discuss this intelligently, as that I have done too little study on the matter. That is something I need to remedy.



Whether or not Mescalero Apache used this little shelf to eat the roasted hearts of the sotol yucca, it made a decent, shady place to eat some peanut butter on flour tortillas. Knowing that a people that the Zuni named "Enemy" ("Apachu" ) lived for many years in these canyons made this trip even more colorful, even without finding any evidence.


I spent most of the day going up Roberts Canyon, getting scratched up on stuff like this:


Actually, going up most of it twice, as that I lost a lens cap, and went back to find it.

Once I got out of Roberts, and back into Last Chance Canyon, I was about out of water, and had the choice of backtracking just a little to refill, or to push on about a mile to the next water hole. I pushed on.

It was a mistake. The water was a little farther than I thought, and I was really dry, and to top it all off, I started to bonk a little, as that I didn't want to eat gorp with a dry mouth. Bonking is the wonderful experience where one runs out of energy during an activity. Low blood sugar and you will be so tired that you can't even think straight, your body and brain will be so exhausted.

I got close to where Byron had marked water on my map and dropped my pack, taking my filter and bottles down the creek bed, hoping that Byron hadn't been wrong.


He wasn't.

I found this spring, which was very clear and very cold. I quickly filtered a quart and lie under the large rock in the background, with my feet in the water, drinking the cold, clean tasting water. After finishing that quart, I just rested under the rock, and soon heard a thundering sound that I could not place or locate. Soon the sound was so overwhelming that I could feel it in my chest.

Helicopter!

Three blackhawks came roaring over the canyon. Even though I was in neutral clothing, lying under cover, safe in the United States, I felt fear. I wanted to climb farther under the rock. I'm not sure how the taliban handle that type of stress.

After recovering, I filled up both of my quart bottles, and my collapsible gallon jug for the night, and started to try to find a flat spot for the night. This was harder than I thought, as that I did not want to sleep down in the creek.

I found a place to string my tarp, and cooked a little supper as clouds built over the canyon. Soon it was raining, but I was dry under the tarp.


Until the wind switched directions.

I loosened all of my guy lines, and basically huddled under my tarp, with trekking poles keeping it off my head. After the rain let up a little, I rerigged, and slept okay through the rain. Though my cheap self inflating pad developed a slow leak I was unable to locate the entire trip.