June 16 - Bell's Canyon

On the way over to the parking lot at the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon, I asked Gordon on the radio "What kind of idiot would want to hike in weather like this?" The answer seemed forthcoming once I arrived, having seen the crew that had assembled itself - plus catching a fleeting glimpse of my own reflection on a car's window...

By that time the skies had darkened even more - especially to the east, up the canyons. Discussions as to possible hiking destinations touched on relatively "safe" low-altitude hikes like the Pipeline Trail, Bowman Fork, or even one or two unspecified places in Big Cottonwood canyon. Chris suggested a destination that we'd not visited on a Wednesday Night Hike before: Bell's Canyon.

With his assurances that the trail was fairly "rain-friendly" we piled in cars and headed off, following Wasatch Drive most of the way, making a final left turn on 9800 south to the trailhead just east of that intersection. Just as we were donning our gear, a "re-donning" involving waterproof jackets and ponchos became necessary when it started to rain, becoming a consistent "heavy drizzle" by the time we hit the trail.

Just past the start of the trailhead, the route climbs quickly, soon leveling off somewhat, making a fairly long, south-ish traverse across the side of the ridge and in view of the valley. Initially delayed by my putting on my poncho, I eventually caught up with Chris, Brian and Josh who were in the lead. Stopping briefly to check on the progress of those behind us - Gordon, Mike and Bruce - Bryan suddenly pointed at a stream of water trickling down the middle of the still-dry trail, saying "Look, a flash flood!"

After a little more walking, the trail suddenly ducked behind the foothills, revealing the lower reservoir. Chris and Josh, having retaken the lead by then were already there, speaking with a pair of uniformed police officers. As I drew near I was able to catch the nature of the ongoing conversation: Apparently, a group of hikers earlier in the day passed a lone hiker: After a brief conversation, they carried on - only to be assaulted by the lone hiker who was wielding a knife contained in his walking stick, one of the group being stabbed clear through his arm by the assailant - after which the perpetrator quickly absconded. The officers were up there looking for this person and warning those who might come along about his presence, admonishing vigilance. By this time those in the rear arrived and we briefly recounted the story as the officers wandered off again along the reservoir road. Starting back up the trail again Chris said "I thought about packing heat tonight, but didn't..." while Brian joked about Josh whom we kidded about now being the "point man" in our platoon of motley folks and the fact that as long as one wasn't the slowest runner, he'd probably be pretty safe.

Continuing up the trail we crossed the bridge and the trail narrowed, becoming gradually steeper and rockier, but never being too much of either in comparison with trails of other "low" canyons like Deaf Smith. Very gradually, the rain subsided - but by this time my pants were soaked from the knees down by "poncho runoff". After the steepest, rockiest part thusfar, we arrived at a trail junction marked with a small cairn and a pink ribbon in a tree where the trail continued straight and up, or to the left, in the direction of a loud roaring noise. Going to the left, we soon found ourselves looking, through a stand of trees and down to the base of fairly impressive waterfall.

Stumbling down the muddy mess that only vaguely resembled a trail, I got fairly close to the fall to take a few pictures and record its sound. Interestingly, however, there was nowhere nearby where one could sit and enjoy the waterfall: The only clear area was in the windy spray of the cascade - not an ideal on a cool evening for someone who was already fairly wet and, now not climbing anymore, would quickly cool off. Withdrawing up into the trees I doffed my poncho, shaking as much water from it as I could and then removed my shirt that was damp and cool from the earlier exertions, noting with annoyance that I'd left my dry shirt in the car and put on a windbreaker in its stead: Not as comfortable, dry.

Taking more pictures, I eventually worked my way down toward an outcropping of granite where the rest of the group (at least those that had arrived thusfar) had congregated: Although out of view of the most impressive port of the waterfall, we could still hear its roar while, to our west, we had a pretty good view of the valley. Eventually, Bruce arrived - followed a few minutes later by Mike. Gordon, who was bringing up the rear, was "talked" toward us and he got within view of the waterfall but chose not to attempt the steep descent toward the rest of the group. After taking a "mostly complete" group picture - by which time many of us were either getting cold, or had cold extremities (I was fumbling around with frozen phalanges while trying to get my gear back together) - we moved back toward the trail junction. There, we took the complete "obligatory group picture" before commencing our downward stumble in the gathering darkness.

The trip down was mostly uneventful, occasionally interrupted by crashes and oaths as someone-or-other lost his footing on the wet trail, with Mike and Gordon bringing down the rear and being more-careful. Eventually, the bridge hove into view - followed soon after by the reservoir. Following along the reservoir, it suddenly occurred to Bruce and I that our path just didn't "seem right" and we retraced a few hundred feet, back to a turn in the road - only to realize that we were right the first time and that the trail left the road *after* we passed the reservoir.

Soon finding the right path, we eventually got back to the parking lot (Chris was long gone by then) and the group started to break up. Calling on the radio, I determined the Mike and Gordon were still a ways up the trail, so I waited as I had some of Gordon's gear in my car. After 35 minutes or so, he and Mike showed up - both still able to walk - at which point I took Gordon back to his car at the mouth of Big Cottonwood and Mike wended his way home.

And none of our number got stabbed!