This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/Ultralight by /u/ekthc on 2024-09-10 22:47:28+00:00.
Four ultralight jerks walk into a canyon...
Where: Box Death Hollow Wilderness
When: 05.25.24 – 05.27.24
Distance: ~35 Miles (6,547' AEG)
Conditions: Overcast on the first day then clear and sunny for the remainder of the trip. I can’t remember the exact temperatures, but the nights were cool and the days were hot.
CalTopo: Link
Saturday May 25th, 2024 Pics
After a relaxed morning in Escalante, we headed up Hell’s Backbone Road, eventually parking near the Wilderness sign at an elevation just over 9,000 feet. The temperature was mild, and the sky was slightly cloudy, making for pleasant hiking conditions.
This section of the trip is more of a route than a trail, and without a specific GPX track to follow, we started by walking back down the road until we found a break in the aspen trees where we could descend. We bushwhacked our way down a gully until it merged with a larger drainage, which we followed for about three-quarters of a mile into the main canyon. The thick vegetation gradually gave way to dry wash walking, and for the next 3.5 miles, we followed the creek bed deeper into the canyon. As we descended in elevation, the forest began to thin, and we caught our first glimpse of just how vast the upper reaches of Box Death Hollow are—quite a contrast to the narrow canyon walls we’d encounter later in the trip.
At around mile 4.25, we left the creek bed and set a roughly southbound course across what looked like a grassy field dotted with sparse pine trees. We were hoping for a few miles of easy walking but instead encountered hidden patches of small barrel cactus tucked among the grass. Our trail runners didn’t stand a chance against the occasional stab of cactus spines. After about a mile and a half of this prickly navigation, we gratefully dropped back into another creek bed to continue our journey down the canyon.
Around mile 8.5, we found our first water source, the notorious Brown Streak. This marked the transition zone where trees became fewer, and the canyon walls began to close in. While we stopped to snack and filter water, the weather started to turn—the wind picked up, and light rain began to fall. With shelter nearby, we hunkered down under a rock shelf, eventually deciding to make camp rather than risk entering the narrow section of the canyon with rain actively falling. Out of caution, we found high ground about 100 feet above the canyon floor and set up camp on a broad sandstone bench. As the rain cleared, we were rewarded with a stunning evening, and all four of us opted to cowboy camp under the stars, making it one of my favorite campsites of all time.
Sunday May 26th, 2024 Pics
Our longest day of the weekend started just after 7:00 AM as we descended from our sandstone bench and continued down the canyon. The walls quickly closed in, and less than a mile from camp, we encountered our first obstacle—a boulder jam with a significant drop on the downstream side. Rather than risk a sketchy downclimb, we scrambled about 20 feet up to bypass the jam, then continued downstream while searching for a safe spot to re-enter the creek bed.
The next couple of miles were a mix of dry sand and cobblestone hiking, small boulder problems, and some unnecessary stemming. Before long, we began to notice a repeating pattern: boulder jams followed by pools of water. Each time, we’d climb down the boulders and, depending on the size of the pool, either wade through or float across on our $5 Target tubes. Though the towering canyon walls kept every pool shaded and frigid, the sun was high and the skies clear, giving us plenty of chances to warm up as we hiked from one pool to the next at the canyon’s base.
About three miles in, we reached the confluence with Death Hollow’s Right Fork. Following a cairned detour, we climbed up and over the ridge to avoid a large downclimb above a pool of unknown depth. From this point, the canyon widened, and the walls soared higher, with striking layers of white, orange, and red stone towering above us. The hiking became more relaxed, and the pools widened, making for easier and more casual crossings. We passed Moonshadow Canyon, a spot where the four of us had spent two nights during a trip two years earlier, before continuing downstream toward the Boulder Mail Trail.
Throughout the day, we had the luxury of plentiful water, but we were now approaching the final 15-16 miles of the trip, knowing it would be completely dry. Each of us filtered 5-6 liters of water and began the roughly 800-foot climb out of the canyon, ascending onto the Slickrock Saddle Bench. Along this stretch, we encountered the only two people we would see on the entire trip.
We followed the Boulder Mail Trail for about half a mile before turning north, carefully navigating through the cryptobiotic soil as we aimed to finish the day after roughly 15 miles. We made camp on a small hilltop at around 6,700 feet, dotted with pinyon pines. As we settled in under the stars, we were surprised to hear faint music coming from the east, likely from someone car camping off Hell’s Backbone Road.
Monday May 27th, 2024 Pics
The last day of the trip was a stark contrast to the previous two. We traded the steep, walled-in descents for wide, open climbs as we made our way up the Slickrock Saddle Bench. After a simple breakfast of bars and whiskey, we descended from our small knoll and set out toward the base of the day’s first climb. It began in earnest around 7,000 feet, peaking nearly two miles later at 7,933 feet. As we contoured along the ridge on the eastern edge of Box Death Hollow, we followed the high point between it and Sand Creek to the east. About an hour later, while snacking in the shade of a giant pinyon, I found my first arrowhead. After taking a few pictures and videos and placed it back in the sand.
At around 4.5 miles in, we reached the narrowest point between the two canyons—a sheer sandstone drop to the west and a gradual slope to the east. Within another mile, we were back above 8,000 feet, leaving the sandstone behind as we entered the ponderosa forest for the remainder of the trip. We skirted the high points of this stretch, heading north in search of Hell’s Backbone Road. Despite our exhaustion, the easy hiking on occasional game and use trails allowed us to cruise through this section.
The final stretch of the trip began just over 8 miles into the day when we reached Hell’s Backbone Road. The only thing standing between us and a well-deserved beer back at the car was 3.5 miles of road walking with roughly 1,000 feet of elevation gain. After 30 miles of spectacular wilderness, this part was a bit of a slog, but crossing Hell’s Backbone Bridge on foot gave us a reason to pause, read the signs, and take in the old construction under the current bridge.
In Conclusion
This was a really badass hike. Challenging enough to keep things interesting without ever becoming frustrating. The route-finding required just the right amount of effort, and the physical challenge was rewarding without being overly brutal. On top of that, the weather was perfect.
Steve Allen’s Canyoneering 3 was a great resource for planning this hike.
The first time I backpacked in Death Hollow, we entered via the Boulder Mail Trail, hiked upstream to Moonshadow Canyon for a day, then headed downstream to the UT-12 bridge over the following two days. On a personal note, it felt great to connect these two trips by starting from the top of Box Death Hollow and hiking down.