Ding and Dang Canyons

My most recent excursion was a trip to revisit Ding and Dang canyons in southern Utah. I had previously visited Ding canyon on a trip with my former roommate Prom. Instead of doing the Ding-Dang loop, we blazed our own trail up an unknown canyon to the east of Ding and then took Ding canyon back to the car. The tradition of perilous canyoneering set forth in that trip was definitely upheld when Bri and I ventured into the proper Ding Dang loop.

The trip started with a drive down to the San Rafael Swell, about 5 hours away from our mountain town of Park City. Once we arrived at Goblin Valley State park, we took the infamous left turn off of the pavement and into the desert backcountry. The only car we passed while testing out the Tacoma's off road capabilities was a Rodeo with a Frenchman warning us to turn around, as he had been stuck in a riverbed for 4 hours. Instead of continuing down the wash we were following, we jumped up on an ATV road that I had discovered almost 2 years ago on a 10 day trip through the harsh landscapes of Southern Utah at the close of my first winter out here. After moving a couple of "rocks" (sandstone boulders luckily light enough to budge out of the way), we found our perfect campsite on the ridge line of Little Wild Horse Canyon. The view was surreal, camping on the ledge about 200 feet over the massive canyon that took millions years to be formed by wind and water erosion. The main danger in this country (flash floods) is the same main force that has created these beautiful landscapes. While we were in a relatively safe spot and no showers were in the forcast, I couldn't help but think of the phrase from a book I have read coutless times. "Geologic time includes now", meaning that the natural forces that have sculpted these ravines are still at work and the landscape can change at the drop of a hat. A boulder could fall or a flood could come at anytime with no warning. Luckily, we didn't experience and geological changes firsthand.

When we set up camp, the sun was beginning to set in the western desert sky. I made us a hobo stew dinner and cooked it over the fire we made. Since Brianne had never really been camping, she wanted the full experience. The meat, potatoes, and carrots all jumbled in a foil pouch turned out great after being roasted over the fire's coals. Backcountry dinner at its finest. After washing the grub down with a couple of frosty beers, we then laid out to watch the stars. With the nearest artificial light source nearly 100 miles away, the night sky was aglow with an array of stars, satellites, and probably even a planet or two, all shining brightly. We saw quite a few shooting stars while taking in the desert's comforting evening climate. Because of La Nina taking place on South America's western coast this year, evening temperatures in Southern Utah's deserts are more hospitable than usual. Instead of 25 degree weather, we were experiencing something more like 55-60 degrees.

The following morning, I got up at 7 as the sun had just come up to cook breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and coffee (all also made with the heat of the fire) were in the works as Bri awoke from our home away from home (my camper shell-enclosed truck bed). The coffee was the interesting part due to the fact that we forgot to bring the French Press. We made do, however, with some almost boiling water, aluminum foil, and a paper towel for the filter. It turned out almost as good as coffee brewed at home, with a much nicer view than my back yard. After a quick breakfast, we rallied the dogs into the truck and set off back down the sketchy "road" for the Ding Dang trailhead. We needed to get there relatively early to get into the slot canyon's shade before the desert's unrelenting heat set in.
After arriving at the trailhead, we filled up water bottles for both us and the two dogs, Lily of course and Bri's dog Pippin. Then we set out on the .9 mile travel up a flash flood wash toward the entrance to Ding Canyon. I led the way, with Bri, Pippin, And Lily close behind. Once we arrived at Ding canyon, we watered ourselves and the dogs and climbed into the Narrows of Ding. Ding was realtively easy (even with the dogs), so we made pretty good time getting to the other end of the canyon. We didn't really know what Dang had in store for us, but we got a lot of practice passing the dogs up one at a time over ledges, ols waterfalls, and slots in the canyon. After hiking about 1.5 miles in Ding, we reached the exit and the awaited Ding Dang Dome was signaling us to take a left and loop around the back to the entrance to Dang.
The beginning of Dang was easy. It proved to be wider and flatter at the top than its little brother Ding. This all changed when we got about one third of the way in. Suddenly our friendly walk through some of the most beautiful slot canyons Utah has to offer turned into a little bit of a problem. We came to a 30 foot drop with no easy way down in sight. After scoping out the hole that appeared before us looking for a route to the bottom, I looked down at my feet. Just to the right was a site that I did not expect to see. Not a snake, scorpion, or any other dangerous desert creature. No, it was something far worse than that. A Bolt. With a carabiner clipped into it. Contrary to everything I had previously read and researched about the canyon (which really wasn't a whole lot since these canyons aren't in any guide books), we were supposed to set up a rappel into the hole 30 feet below us. We had already completed 3/4 of the loop, and with temps reaching almost 95 degrees we didn't have enough water to turn around and go back the way we had come.

Due to previous canyoneering experience, I had thankfully packed a few climbing "essentials" for a just-in-case situation like this. While I didn't have the 60 feet of rope, 2 harnesses, or rappelling gear that we needed, I had what I thought would have to suffice. As I laid out the contents of my pack to see what we could use, I found: snacks, our remaining water (not much), a pair of Chacos, an emergency heat blanket, sunscreen, a pocket knife, a headlamp, a rain jacket, one climbing harness, about 15 feet of cord (NOT climbing rope), a daisy chain, and 2 carabiners. With these items, I was able to rig up a system attaching Bri (in the harness)
to the bolt and used a Munter hitch and a carabiner as a makeshift rappel system to get her to the first ledge below. Then I got her to attach the gear to the cord and I pulled it back up. Next the dogs were taken down to her one at a time, and then I lowered myself one last time while retrieving the cord on the way down for future use. We were then able to climb down the shelf to the hole below. The sketchy rappelling went well, but we had knowingly put ourselves in a risky position. We wouldn't be able to return up the canyon now that we were down, and we also were unaware of what other drops lay before us. Luckily as we kept traveling down the narrowing slot we didn't come upon any further recesses in the landscape quite that large. There were a few other 10-12 foot drops, but we managed to get one of us down and then hand pass the dogs one at a time. Thankfully, they enjoyed the experience as well.

We made it back to the truck just in time, as the heat had soared and we were exposed to the sun for the last mile of the trip. After being in the canyon for 5 hours, we were now headed to the nearest gas station (about 80 miles away) for a cool drink and some grub. In addition to having yet another awesome canyoneering experience, I also learned a valuable lesson: Always take more climbing gear than you think you will need.