Kayla and I continued up the rocky path as the last of twilight slipped away. My spirits started to dwindle from the frustration of knowing how far we still had to hike in the dark before we got to camp. As we entered the mouth of Death Canyon and came into a forested area there was something about hiking at night with a forty pound pack that did not excite me very much. Whether it was the fact I felt anything could be lurking in the bush next to me or simply because I could not see exactly where I was stepping, reluctance took joy out of each step I took. Kayla's enthusiasm for hiking under the stars only agitated my downward spiraling mood.
As we moved out of the forest and into open fields that sat next to the river, Kayla took a misstep and twisted her ankle. Instantly, I assumed the worst and considered myself responsible for not recommending she wear her ankle brace when we started. However, Kayla assures me she is alright and we take a few minutes for her recovery.
Being forced to look up from my relentless search for a safe place to take my next step, Kayla and I sat down to gaze at the stars shining above us. The canyon walls surrounding the stars cut into the night sky and focused our eyes on the space directly above us. As we sat there, an acknowledgment of being alone in the wilderness brought feelings of fear mixed with exclusive visions of beauty. A strange brew of feelings percolated into my blood. I shivered from the cold night air. A few shooting stars later and the steep and jagged canyon walls began to encroach on me. I felt we were completely alone in the wilderness and the worst would happen. Fear began to take grip. The night had become the stage for a monster. The canyon walls had now broke free from their cage and began devouring our stars. I kept my fear silent as to not allow it to spread to Kayla.
After a few minutes, Kayla was up again and we continued slowly around a corner. However, before we completely came around the corner my headlamp shined over a large vacuum of light in the tall grass thirty yards ahead. The darkness shifted slightly and two beads of light absorbed all the surrounding light from the vacuum and reflected it back at us. The canyon was showing another one of its monsters. Fear came rushing back into my blood and flooded out all other feelings. We were looking directly at a black bear. I kept my light on it to see if it was moving toward or away from us. The bear did neither. Kayla insisted I look away as to not aggravate the bear and just continue our path and pass it. Because the bear was not moving we might have been able to slip passed it, but I was not ready to take that risk. I suggested we turn around and wait before coming back. Kayla complied and we walked away from the bear.
Suddenly, in front of me Kayla and her pack were on the ground. Another bad step in the darkness and Kayla fallen face-first onto the rocky trail, twisting her other ankle. I didn't know what to do. I waited. I asked if she was alright and watched kept a vigilant eye out for the bear until she was ready to move again. She stood up. After a few ankle stretches and moments to regather strength, we hobbled in the opposite direction of the bear and sat down on some boulders, hoping to give the bear ample time to move away. Fear and frustration began to become evident in my actions and I could see it was leaking into Kayla.
On the boulders we talked about what to do. We decided we should loudly approach the bear, letting it know we were coming. In agreement, we thought this was our best bet to get through. But, as I talked loudly to the bear, hoping it was listening and walking away, we came around the corner and saw the bear in the exact same place when we had left. It was evident that the bear was not bothered enough by us to move from its spot in the grass but I wasn't about to test the bear's limits and walk passed it. I told Kayla we were turning around and camping next to the patrol cabin that we had passed earlier in the hike. Kayla was not thrilled about this. As we walked back to the cabin, her pace accelerated to a speed I felt was unsafe; I thought she might twist her ankle one more time. I told her to slow down and asked why she was moving so quickly. What she said in response made it clear that my fear had become obvious and was starting to spread like a disease, infecting her as well.
We made it back to the patrol cabin safely but I questioned the rest of the trip. Ahead of us lay forty-four more hours of this trip and we would have to make up for the distance we didn't get on our first night. My knee was starting to ache after only the first five miles and I wondered how many more times Kayla might twist her ankle on the remaining twenty miles of rocky trail that lay before us. As I nestled into my sleeping bag that night I genuinely wondered whether we should continue on in the morning.
Death Canyon during the day
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