Three Rescued from Heaps “Dead End”

What a fun thread, with the Devil’s Hole/Pit back in the news. If i recall, it was called the Hole by Royce? And those that wrote the second report, “in search of” called it a Pit? No matter. To be fair, Royce implies a first descent, yet….he was rapping off bolts down the big wall? Naturally occurring bolts? Or can we give credit where credit is due to Bogart and Turville? Thought so!

Back when i was reading the stories in the black book, totally terrified by the idea of the place, we guessed that there was a wall that stopped these folks and guessed at a natural bridge, underwater as a possible explanation. As it turns out, it is just a spot, low in the canyon but before it opens up a bit, that is a narrow doorway. A large log, that we would walk across, some 10 feet up was kind of the structural base and that floods would bring debris and logs into the narrow doorway, obscuring the down canyon passage entirely. If one thinks of those narrow openings in Pandora’s Box that show periodically in that canyon and imagine a a lot of debris landing against those openings, one can appreciate how the right way can become totally obscured. It is immediately after a side canyon that comes in on the left, LDC.

Reading those black book accounts in the 80’s, into the early 90’s was a big part of our groups lore. Fantastical accounts by bold adventurers, we revered and were in awe of. here is an account of how it felt to us.

http://www.math.utah.edu/~sfolias/canyontales/ram/?i=heaps

Most two week Zion trips would invariably have a rainy day or two. We would wake, in the morning, take inventory of the weather and roll over and back to sleep. When we finally arose, we would tossed around the possibilities for the day. We would propose several options for the afternoon, guessing and hoping for that PM clearing. In the mean time, breakfast in town would be followed by a trip to the Visitor Center. I would go up to the backcountry desk and ask the person manning the station, for the Black Book. He/she would give me one of the two black books containing topos of many of the parks technical climbing routes. I would say “No, no, not those” and ask for the 3rd black book, the one with the backcountry routes. This loose leaf binder had many trip reports and route descriptions, some quite old, all very interesting. Reading the book, I found many routes that have become quite popular today, but were rarely done back then. Behunin, The Right Fork, Mt. of the Sun and Mystery Canyon were just a few of these.

My favorite reason for reading the book was to lose myself in the story of the first recorded descent (according to this report, anyway) of Heaps Canyon and the follow up descent. They were titled “The Devil’s Pit” and “In Search of the Devil’s Pit,” respectively. Throughout the 1980s, I would direct uninitiated partners, to a ‘sit down’ journey through these stories. At the time, we were—as a group—very far from the skill set necessary to tackle such a challenging canyon, or so the stories led us to believe. We were thoroughly entertained by the tale of tenuous log jams, frigid 300–yard swims, death trap potholes and dizzying 300–foot rappels, but scariest of all was ‘the Devil’s Pit.’

It was implied, in the story, that the canyon just ended against a blank wall. Seemed impossible and so we speculated about underwater passages and all fashion of unlikely explanations. The original descent team arrived at the Pit in fading light. They found themselves swimming, unable to retreat to dry ground and near panic. A small side canyon offered a possible escape. They set off to climb it, packs tethered by sling. Unable to see enough to negotiate the climb, they emptied their white gas container on a floating driftwood pile and lit it aflame. They then climbed the pitch by fire light, up to a ledge and a cold, wet bivouac. The next day up on top, they went looking for an escape route home. They only were able to go 20 minutes before a side canyon, draining into Heaps proper, forced them, cold and discouraged, to rap back into the wet and grueling wonderland. They negotiated the lower canyon and the big drops at the canyons end, wrote the tale, and headed home. It captured the imagination of the 2nd descenders and they went in search of the Devil’s Pit. They did not find it and had a relatively problem–free descent.

Where had it gone … this Devil’s Pit?

Friend after friend would read the tale and shake their head in amazement at the ‘hard men’ lighting fires and climbing by them, in desperation. We attached a mythical reverence to the pioneers and to the place. I was comfortable with the fact that experiencing this magical place was not in the cards for me and my pals. I was never going to be skilled enough to go there. It felt OK to have such a place to worship, where us mortals fear to tread.