or
Canyoneering in Arizona: In wet suits and helmets, you climb, crawl, slide, glide and slither
By Associated Press, Published: November 6
SALOME CANYON, Ariz. — I was about to follow a man I’d just met through a sweltering desert, into the crevices of a canyon, over wet boulders, down a waterfall, through a bone-chilling creek, down rock faces and up through the desert again.
“Sometimes while you’re in the canyon, you won’t be able to hear me,” said my (hopefully) trustworthy canyoneering guide Chuck Chapman as I and three others embarked on a canyoneering adventure in Tonto National Forest, a sprawling desert landscape about 75 miles (120 kilometers) from Phoenix. “If I tap my helmet along the way, I expect you to respond by tapping yours to tell me you’re OK.”
Several things raced through my mind in response as we prepared to throw caution, and apparently our bodies, to the wind and rock face of Salome Canyon.
Such as: When are you not OK when you are lowering yourself into a canyon? If you are not OK, would Chapman realize before it’s too late?
Also: Was staying out until 3 a.m. the night before doing this really the best idea? Did the wet suit make me look fat? Should I really have eaten two slabs of chocolate for breakfast?
And was the world ready for “127 Hours, Part Deux?” I certainly was not.
Then Chapman added, “But you should you be fine,” and motioned us to follow him on my first foray into canyoneering.
Canyoneering started in Europe during the 1970s, but it’s probably best-known from the 2010 film, “127 Hours” in which James Franco portrayed Aron Ralston, a real-life canyoneer whose arm got stuck under a boulder in a remote slot canyon in Utah. Ralston was eventually forced to amputate his own arm to free himself.
As harrowing as that sounds, canyoneering, while exciting, can be done safely — and without too much difficulty — by the average person in the company of an experienced guide. I was a novice in all that it entails: rock climbing, bouldering, rappelling and wet suit wading.
The idea of the sport is to navigate a canyon using water flow as your trail, down into waterfalls, creeks, and whirlpools. While canyoneering hot spots include Mexico’s Copper Canyon, Colorado, the Pyrenees in Spain, the Blue Mountains in eastern Australia, New Zealand and Costa Rica, Utah reigns supreme as a destination for the sport, with Arizona as a close rival.
As we hiked the Saguaro cactus-studded desert of Tonto park toward the salmon-, rust- and white-speckled sandstone of the canyon, the landscape’s appeal was obvious. The expanse of wilderness stretched out beyond where the eye could see; an eagle glided through the cloudless sky, dipping into and out of the Sierra Ancha Mountain range.
An hour or so after we began our hike, we were in the chilly Salome Creek. Wearing wet suits and helmets, our gentle descent and careful balancing over slippery, small rocks, gave way to crab-crawling, scrambling, sliding and gliding over wet granite boulders. It was like a real-life game of Tetris as we descended from one boulder to the next, through crevices and slender slots, problem-solving as we went along, becoming one with the canyon.
rging@q.com
If you have to lace up the skates then it shouldn’t be called canyoneering.
– A lot of gliding in Black Hole during some Freeze Fest
TomJones
Members, especially long-contributing members, are reminded that clipping your posts is the polite thing to do. Please keep the relevant paragraph from the previous post, but… the rest can be zapped.
Welcome back Jonas, haven’t heard from you in a while – hope you are well. Joining us for Freeze Fest?
Tom (MISTER etiquette only occasionally) Jones
— In Yahoo Canyons Group, J Fast wrote:
A lot of gliding in Black Hole during some Freeze Fest > ….
Sent from my iPad
On Nov 17, 2012, at 7:27 PM, “Mike Schasch” wrote:
> There are some…who glide.
— In Yahoo Canyons Group, rging@ wrote:
There is no gliding in canyoneering. At least the way I do it.
>
J Fast
A lot of gliding in Black Hole during some Freeze Fest ….
Sent from my iPad
On Nov 17, 2012, at 7:27 PM, “Mike Schasch” mikeschasch@gmail.com> wrote:
> There are some…who glide.
— In Yahoo Canyons Group, rging@… wrote:
There is no gliding in canyoneering. At least the way I do it.
—– Original Message —–
From: RAM To: Yahoo Canyons Group
> Sent: Fri, 16 Nov 2012 12:45:22 -0500 (EST)
Subject: [from Canyons Group] Washington Post Canyon Article
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/travel/canyoneering-in-arizona-in-wet-suits-and-helmets-you-climb-crawl-slide-glide-and-slither/2012/11/06/a033c332-2834-11e2-aaa5-ac786110c486_story.html
> or
http://tinyurl.com/cwbqy4n
> Canyoneering in Arizona: In wet suits and helmets, you climb, crawl, slide, glide and slither
By Associated Press, Published: November 6
SALOME CANYON, Ariz. — I was about to follow a man I’d just met through a sweltering desert, into the crevices of a canyon, over wet boulders, down a waterfall, through a bone-chilling creek, down rock faces and up through the desert again.
“Sometimes while you’re in the canyon, you won’t be able to hear me,” said my (hopefully) trustworthy canyoneering guide Chuck Chapman as I and three others embarked on a canyoneering adventure in Tonto National Forest, a sprawling desert landscape about 75 miles (120 kilometers) from Phoenix. “If I tap my helmet along the way, I expect you to respond by tapping yours to tell me you’re OK.”
Several things raced through my mind in response as we prepared to throw caution, and apparently our bodies, to the wind and rock face of Salome Canyon.
Such as: When are you not OK when you are lowering yourself into a canyon? If you are not OK, would Chapman realize before it’s too late?
Also: Was staying out until 3 a.m. the night before doing this really the best idea? Did the wet suit make me look fat? Should I really have eaten two slabs of chocolate for breakfast?
And was the world ready for “127 Hours, Part Deux?” I certainly was not.
Then Chapman added, “But you should you be fine,” and motioned us to follow him on my first foray into canyoneering.
Canyoneering started in Europe during the 1970s, but it’s probably best-known from the 2010 film, “127 Hours” in which James Franco portrayed Aron Ralston, a real-life canyoneer whose arm got stuck under a boulder in a remote slot canyon in Utah. Ralston was eventually forced to amputate his own arm to free himself.
As harrowing as that sounds, canyoneering, while exciting, can be done safely — and without too much difficulty — by the average person in the company of an experienced guide. I was a novice in all that it entails: rock climbing, bouldering, rappelling and wet suit wading.
The idea of the sport is to navigate a canyon using water flow as your trail, down into waterfalls, creeks, and whirlpools. While canyoneering hot spots include Mexico’s Copper Canyon, Colorado, the Pyrenees in Spain, the Blue Mountains in eastern Australia, New Zealand and Costa Rica, Utah reigns supreme as a destination for the sport, with Arizona as a close rival.
As we hiked the Saguaro cactus-studded desert of Tonto park toward the salmon-, rust- and white-speckled sandstone of the canyon, the landscape’s appeal was obvious. The expanse of wilderness stretched out beyond where the eye could see; an eagle glided through the cloudless sky, dipping into and out of the Sierra Ancha Mountain range.
An hour or so after we began our hike, we were in the chilly Salome Creek. Wearing wet suits and helmets, our gentle descent and careful balancing over slippery, small rocks, gave way to crab-crawling, scrambling, sliding and gliding over wet granite boulders. It was like a real-life game of Tetris as we descended from one boulder to the next, through crevices and slender slots, problem-solving as we went along, becoming one with the canyon.
Mike Schasch
There are some…who glide.
— In Yahoo Canyons Group, rging@… wrote:
There is no gliding in canyoneering. At least the way I do it.
—– Original Message —– > From: RAM Subject: [from Canyons Group] Washington Post Canyon Article
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/travel/canyoneering-in-arizona-in-wet-suits-and-helmets-you-climb-crawl-slide-glide-and-slither/2012/11/06/a033c332-2834-11e2-aaa5-ac786110c486_story.html
> or
http://tinyurl.com/cwbqy4n
> Canyoneering in Arizona: In wet suits and helmets, you climb, crawl, slide, glide and slither
By Associated Press, Published: November 6
SALOME CANYON, Ariz. — I was about to follow a man I’d just met through a sweltering desert, into the crevices of a canyon, over wet boulders, down a waterfall, through a bone-chilling creek, down rock faces and up through the desert again.
“Sometimes while you’re in the canyon, you won’t be able to hear me,” said my (hopefully) trustworthy canyoneering guide Chuck Chapman as I and three others embarked on a canyoneering adventure in Tonto National Forest, a sprawling desert landscape about 75 miles (120 kilometers) from Phoenix. “If I tap my helmet along the way, I expect you to respond by tapping yours to tell me you’re OK.”
Several things raced through my mind in response as we prepared to throw caution, and apparently our bodies, to the wind and rock face of Salome Canyon.
Such as: When are you not OK when you are lowering yourself into a canyon? If you are not OK, would Chapman realize before it’s too late?
Also: Was staying out until 3 a.m. the night before doing this really the best idea? Did the wet suit make me look fat? Should I really have eaten two slabs of chocolate for breakfast?
And was the world ready for “127 Hours, Part Deux?” I certainly was not.
Then Chapman added, “But you should you be fine,” and motioned us to follow him on my first foray into canyoneering.
Canyoneering started in Europe during the 1970s, but it’s probably best-known from the 2010 film, “127 Hours” in which James Franco portrayed Aron Ralston, a real-life canyoneer whose arm got stuck under a boulder in a remote slot canyon in Utah. Ralston was eventually forced to amputate his own arm to free himself.
As harrowing as that sounds, canyoneering, while exciting, can be done safely — and without too much difficulty — by the average person in the company of an experienced guide. I was a novice in all that it entails: rock climbing, bouldering, rappelling and wet suit wading.
The idea of the sport is to navigate a canyon using water flow as your trail, down into waterfalls, creeks, and whirlpools. While canyoneering hot spots include Mexico’s Copper Canyon, Colorado, the Pyrenees in Spain, the Blue Mountains in eastern Australia, New Zealand and Costa Rica, Utah reigns supreme as a destination for the sport, with Arizona as a close rival.
As we hiked the Saguaro cactus-studded desert of Tonto park toward the salmon-, rust- and white-speckled sandstone of the canyon, the landscape’s appeal was obvious. The expanse of wilderness stretched out beyond where the eye could see; an eagle glided through the cloudless sky, dipping into and out of the Sierra Ancha Mountain range.
An hour or so after we began our hike, we were in the chilly Salome Creek. Wearing wet suits and helmets, our gentle descent and careful balancing over slippery, small rocks, gave way to crab-crawling, scrambling, sliding and gliding over wet granite boulders. It was like a real-life game of Tetris as we descended from one boulder to the next, through crevices and slender slots, problem-solving as we went along, becoming one with the canyon.
> >
rging@q.com
There is no gliding in canyoneering. At least the way I do it.
—– Original Message —– From: RAM adkramoo@aol.com> To: Yahoo Canyons Group Sent: Fri, 16 Nov 2012 12:45:22 -0500 (EST) Subject: [from Canyons Group] Washington Post Canyon Article
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/travel/canyoneering-in-arizona-in-wet-suits-and-helmets-you-climb-crawl-slide-glide-and-slither/2012/11/06/a033c332-2834-11e2-aaa5-ac786110c486_story.html
or
http://tinyurl.com/cwbqy4n
Canyoneering in Arizona: In wet suits and helmets, you climb, crawl, slide, glide and slither
By Associated Press, Published: November 6
SALOME CANYON, Ariz.  I was about to follow a man I’d just met through a sweltering desert, into the crevices of a canyon, over wet boulders, down a waterfall, through a bone-chilling creek, down rock faces and up through the desert again.
“Sometimes while you’re in the canyon, you won’t be able to hear me,” said my (hopefully) trustworthy canyoneering guide Chuck Chapman as I and three others embarked on a canyoneering adventure in Tonto National Forest, a sprawling desert landscape about 75 miles (120 kilometers) from Phoenix. “If I tap my helmet along the way, I expect you to respond by tapping yours to tell me you’re OK.”
Several things raced through my mind in response as we prepared to throw caution, and apparently our bodies, to the wind and rock face of Salome Canyon.
Such as: When are you not OK when you are lowering yourself into a canyon? If you are not OK, would Chapman realize before it’s too late?
Also: Was staying out until 3 a.m. the night before doing this really the best idea? Did the wet suit make me look fat? Should I really have eaten two slabs of chocolate for breakfast?
And was the world ready for “127 Hours, Part Deux?” I certainly was not.
Then Chapman added, “But you should you be fine,” and motioned us to follow him on my first foray into canyoneering.
Canyoneering started in Europe during the 1970s, but it’s probably best-known from the 2010 film, “127 Hours” in which James Franco portrayed Aron Ralston, a real-life canyoneer whose arm got stuck under a boulder in a remote slot canyon in Utah. Ralston was eventually forced to amputate his own arm to free himself.
As harrowing as that sounds, canyoneering, while exciting, can be done safely  and without too much difficulty  by the average person in the company of an experienced guide. I was a novice in all that it entails: rock climbing, bouldering, rappelling and wet suit wading.
The idea of the sport is to navigate a canyon using water flow as your trail, down into waterfalls, creeks, and whirlpools. While canyoneering hot spots include Mexico’s Copper Canyon, Colorado, the Pyrenees in Spain, the Blue Mountains in eastern Australia, New Zealand and Costa Rica, Utah reigns supreme as a destination for the sport, with Arizona as a close rival.
As we hiked the Saguaro cactus-studded desert of Tonto park toward the salmon-, rust- and white-speckled sandstone of the canyon, the landscape’s appeal was obvious. The expanse of wilderness stretched out beyond where the eye could see; an eagle glided through the cloudless sky, dipping into and out of the Sierra Ancha Mountain range.
An hour or so after we began our hike, we were in the chilly Salome Creek. Wearing wet suits and helmets, our gentle descent and careful balancing over slippery, small rocks, gave way to crab-crawling, scrambling, sliding and gliding over wet granite boulders. It was like a real-life game of Tetris as we descended from one boulder to the next, through crevices and slender slots, problem-solving as we went along, becoming one with the canyon.