An old friend of mine had moved here two years ago, and with a little persuasion, I was able to convinced him to come along. Since his flat was only a stone's throw from McCaren Airport, I knew we could make good time. His directions couldn't be more simple, "Drive straight out of the airport and make your second left, I'm across from the Hard Rock." A couple of driving minutes and three flights of stairs brought a quick embrace, a "nice place, how ya been" and immediately the five of us were packed into a small coupe, watching the Vegas strip fade into the rear view mirror.

With a car this size full of 20 something men, the audacity exuded quickly. "Well, I got off of work last night and headed to the 'Wood for a pint and you'll never guess who sat down next to me..." I said with a cheekish tone. "Oh yeah, who's that?" my brother asked. "Well I would have thought Les Claypool to be more of an interesting fellow, but he was really kind of a jerk" I said. And to tell you the truth he kind of was. I knew he lived my area and I've been anxious to meet him but he casually shrugged me off when I tried to make conversation. I should have known, though, my brother had the same thing happen to him in the city a few years earlier. I made it a point to mention it because I knew my brother's friend was a huge fan of Primus and I thought it would make interesting conversation. There's quite a few famous faces wandering wine country, you're bound to run into one eventually, however they tend to be of a certain feather.

After I felt I had done enough catching up with Alex, I noticed the view outside the car beginning to darken the further away from city we travelled. Vegas looked resembled a sparkling galaxy in the distance, a jewel in the desert. When I'm on the road, I have a tendency to, at least attempt to, make good time and plan all stops. But Geoff, in his carefree manner, felt it necessary to pull off the highway after only about an hour, to stop at a truckstop/fireworks super emporium gas station. (I know, a first for me as well.) Never in my life have I seen such a stockpile of fireworks. After picking up some pomegranate juice (so good, and rich in antioxidants), I stood outside waiting for everyone to gather and I looked over at the long rows of gas pumps. And then I casually glanced back into the building at all the high shelves, packed with fireworks. Then I looked back at the gas pumps...and propane tanks...and the diesel trucks parked just across the lot... Were these people insane? It was really hard to believe when I put into context, but I was more suprised at how long it took me to conceive this great irony I witnessed at our seemingly casual pit stop. When I peered across the station, I could see Roman Candles being shot off behind the big rigs parked beyond the pumps, soon followed by a security truck, amber lights flashing, skirting across the parking lot. What did they think would happen at a truckstop/fireworks super emporium gas station? I guess a crack personal security team is necessary for a unique entrepreneurial establishment like this one. Geoff, I call him the Dude (he's the live incarnation of the Dude), struts out of the store, double fisted with fireworks, and says "Alright, who's up for a Roman Candle fight?"

Hmm, I thought. Really? A Roman Candle fight? We drove to the other side of the freeway and well, that's precisely what followed. Had you been driving down interstate 15 at approximately 1:00am near the Utah/Nevada border on that Thursday morning, you might have seen a colorful yet somewhat disturbing sight on the side of the road. Five grown men frolicking around a car with flashes of red, green, blue and yellow ricocheting between the frantic bodies and the confused two door coup. I really didn't think he was quite that serious until a red firework whizzed by my whiplashed head like a missile. He may have caught us off guard but it made for an exciting beginning to a trip that none of us were expecting.

Back on the road, Sean and I got through the entire Snakes and Arrows album without missing a lyric, or a drum note on the seats in front of us. The hills were continuing to rise and even in the dark sky I could see that they were growing into sheer cliffs, slowly reaching to the dimly lit stars. (It's hard to compete with the lights of Vegas)

After another pit stop, (if it were me driving there would have only been one), we were nearing the entrance to Zion National Park. All of the pictures I've seen from my parents' trip here were coming to fruition through my imagination. I knew that in just a few short hours, it was already 3:00 am, the sun would be shining on nature's cathedral of rock and sandstone.

Upon entering the park, we noticed the FULL signs next to all the nearest campsites. (Leave it to us to plan everything in order to get to our destination, except a place to pitch camp when we actually arrive.) When we reached the last full campsite, we turned around sharply and scowered the previous town for a lonely dirt road. Sean and Geoff camped at Zion five years ago and were certain there was a free site somewhere just off the road on the edge of town. With every passing tree and rock, Sean apparently had a revelation. "I remember that tree, the campsite must be up here on the left, remember Geoff?" "You said that about the last two trees, Sean" I moaned. After giving Sean enough slack about his supposed "premonitions" of this elusive camping spot, Adam, the youngest and least experienced among us, actually found the correct turnoff after proposing, "this road looks like it leads out and away from the houses." And sure enough, we winded behind the desert ranches up to a hill overlooking the town and discovered a near perfect campsite, complete with shady trees and a soft flowing creek.

After picking out a comfy spot and setting up my tent in near record time, I noticed Sean didn't bring a tent, right after I finished pitching mine in one of the few spots nearby that didn't have an ant hill. That made for and interesting night for Sean and Adam since my tent was already doubly occupied and Geoff's could barely contain him. He said it wasn't that bad, but I don't believe ants crawling all over your body all night would constitute a decent nap, at least in my book.

The next morning, we quickly packed up, headed back into town and searched for a good spot to fuel up for the day. We found a nice little breakfast spot, reasonably priced, and I didn't hesitate to look at the menu. I immediately ordered steak and eggs as soon as we were seated, good fuel for a day's hike. After plenty of fresh melon, OJ, and a couple of cups of coffee, I was ready to tackle the canyon.

Across the street, a convenient mom and pop deli made packing a lunch an easy task. After we picked up enough food for the day, we jumped in the car and speed off up the road to the park entrance. Luckily Geoff had a national parks pass because sitting in a full car behind Adam, a hair short of 6'7", there was no way I could reach my wallet. Just beyond the park's entrance, the visitor's center lie between us and the canyon. A brief shuttle ride was the last leg of our now twelve hour journey.

Our ride up to the trailhead was calm and very peaceful but I was yearning. The walls of the canyon were climbing higher into the bright sky and the scenery resmebled one massive desert oasis. There's something about the desert that really takes hold of me. The red rock, sharp, pointed formations and steep cliffs seemed to glow in the hot sun. It's amazing how much life and vegetation are in the dryest of climates.

As soon as the shuttle stopped at the trailhead, Alex and I were already jogging up the path. I had everything I needed on my back and felt decently prepared for a moderate day hike. We planned to hike through the entire canyon, but because of the wildfires on the other side of the park, only half of the canyon was accessible. I lost my pocket knife not too long before and had been meaning to get a first aid kit for daypack but never emphasized it too much. You can never be too prepared when going outdoors and those are two things you should always carry. I could have been a little bit wiser when taking my inventory.

When Alex and I felt we were winded and warmed up enough, we kept a steady hiking pace all the way to the trails end. The trail is about a half mile then abruptly ends in the river. Water shoes are a must and a hiking stick sure helps, too. As a faithful REI employee, I happened to have a sturdy pair of trekking poles and a decent dry bag so I felt ready for anything the canyon may have in store. Having good gear can really make for a more enjoyable experience and enable you to cover more ground.

Within the the first mile I had already fallen twice. The river hadn't gone past my knee but it was some task walking over slick rocks and branches. I kept losing focus of my footing because I couldn't help but stare at the massive walls that were slowly closing in on us. Weaving in and out of the water and over the river, the carved walls were like solid caramel swirled in elaborate patterns, as if someone ran through the canyon with a candy striper. The sheer size and height of the canyon walls were awesome in their grandeur and it felt like they were watching my every move. Engulfed in the narrow slot canyon, I was like a tiny ant wandering in and out of the tiny cracks, crawling through the cool water.

Alex and I must have climbed every rock possible in order to see different view of the canyon. Climbing only 30 or 40 feet up, everything can look so different, your eyes can see over the steep cliffs and into the surrounding trees and cliffs that tower above them. We travelled ahead of the group early on, leaping over small boulders and sliding up and over the miniature summer waterfalls. By the time we reached the end of our limited trail, I thought to myself, this is one of the greatest experiences I've had in nature. The way we kept moving was as if we had become water, effortlessly flowing through the Narrows. At certain points, the canyon was a mere 8 ft wide and although beautiful, we all asked ourselves the same hypothetical, "What would you do if water came rushing around the corner, like in one of those movies?"

At the end of the allotted trail, there was another tiny waterfall with a sign that read, "Do not travel beyond this waterfall." Just the very words themselves launched us up and over the fall and around the next turn. After a couple of hundred yards, we found a perfect place for lunch, sitting below tall trees on a giant boulder overlooking a long, vacant slot up the canyon. As we began to eat, I started to notice the sun fading in and out. We macked our sandwiches quickly and filled up on oat bars and fruit leather. With literally my last bite sliding down into my belly, we all heard an unfimiliar sound, contrary to the beautiful, sunny day we had just experienced.

Boom.

All of our heads turned sharply to the sky to see the sun darken in one quick swift.

Our eyes met each others casually and we thought, "Well, we ought to start heading back now."

We packed up and started to make our way back down the canyon and slid down the waterfall. There wasn't a real panic but we walked briskly through the water when we started feeling the drops of rain fall effortlessly through the canyon. The air, now feeling strangely tropical, carried the drops of water swiftly down into the canyon, beading it off our bodies, refreshing our warm blood. The booms of thunder were getting louder and closer together and the rain began to pounce on the river with great force, bringing tiny hail stones with it. It sparked something in us.

I've heard of negative ions created when water and air meet and how it's almost difficult not to smile when you are near a waterfall or a billowing brook, but this captivated us. We started yelling like cavemen and jumped in and out of the river as the water level was slowly rising. It was a feeling I haven't felt in a long time. The feeling of pure immersion in nature left us believing we were invincible.

"Amazing!" I yelled out loud as I howled at the large booms of thunder.

"Is that all you got?" Alex charged, as if Mother Nature was holding out on us.

Further down the river, everything appeared through a strangely different light. The sudden change in weather transformed the canyon instantaneously. The colors and sounds were so different and waterfalls formed in places where the canyon walls were previously bone dry. We passed three waterfalls on our way down that were absent on the journey up. We submerged ourselves under them like the water had flowed directly from heaven. It was a one of a kind experience, and things were about to change more dramatically than we would have first anticipated.

The third waterfall, so far the largest we'd seen all day, drained into a section of the canyon that was twenty yards wide. The rain was now pouring heavily and I noticed the thunder had ceased for some time. As we walked under the waterfall...CRACK...BOOM!

We all froze.

The thunder pierced our ears violently, as if Mother Nature took two crash cymbals and rattled them right above the canyon walls. Alex and I stopped beneath the waterfall in awe of the moment. We gave a quick glance towards each other and our party, sure that this was a hike we'd never forget Sean was in front, with Geoff and Adam not far behind. As the rain began falling harder, I felt a fierce, sudden wind and almost didn't notice the sudden rapid change in the water flow. I looked ahead and Sean began to drift faster towards the bend. In a matter of seconds he was fully submerged and was floating in the rushing water. I began to stumble forward over the rocks and turned to witness the most chilling sight I may ever see.

The waterfall I was standing under only seconds earlier, a good twenty yards behind me, had now towered over me like Yosemite Falls in Spring and fully blocked off the width of the canyon. I froze briefly, but the adrenaline swiftly carried my body across the now waist deep river and screamed bloody murder out of my mouth, "RUN! GO! GO! GO!"

The water rushed behind us and I saw my brother Sean swept into a current and carried under the water and swiftly around the next turn. Nearly in panic, I looked back and saw debris raining down from the falls, carrying huge washed logs and rocks down into the canyon. The rocks were hitting the canyon walls like artillery shells and, now well apparent of the situation, I dove into the water and began paddling fiercely. All five of us were swept up and carried for what seemed like endless minutes around the next bend. I was furthest back and completely lost sight of Sean, but was not far from the rest of the group. As I passed the turn, I anxioulsy peered ahead for any sign of Sean or his yellow backpack. I struggled through thick brush and over the large logs to get a better look down river.

"Sean!" I yelled into the air.

I couldn't see him.

I kept paddling my body through the relentless flood, struggling to keep my head above the water enough to see further around the next sudden turn. I swam out of the current, latched onto a giant boulder and climbed up onto its ledge. Hanging onto the side of the rock, I pulled myself over the top and saw the rest of the guys fighting with the current and scrambling for the shallow parts of the river. I tried to make out Sean or his backpack through the raging rapids and riverwash. I inched down the other side of the boulder and watched the debris pile up below me. I had no choice but to jump in and navigate myself through the rushing soot and debris. I slid off the rock and braced myself before hitting the water. I weaved around smaller logs and scrambled to avoid the bigger ones. As the river carried me around the next turn, I ran into Alex and Geoff. I started to feel the riverbed beneath me and I struggled to gain my footing. I looked up ahead and my eyes immediately caught the yellow daypack, still attatched to my brother.

After a floating threw few more sharp turns in the canyon, we came to a long S curve, with embankments on opposite sides. As I approached the first bank, I saw the guys climb out and onto the beach. When I arrived I noticed we weren't the only ones in trouble.

On the first bank, there were a dozen people: A family of five from Florida, a few other men in their 20's and 30's, and a church group of middle-aged women, stranded on the bank, watching the river rush by and unable to cross. Directly across on the opposite bank was the other half of the church group and a couple of other young men. The volume and intensity of the river were too furious to make a safe crossing. We all stared at the large logs rushing by in the heavy current, piecing together what had just happened and realizing how lucky we were.

I hadn't been in a situation like this before and wasn't sure what to do. Everyone seemed to be a little shocked and were still trying to figure out what had happened. I dropped my pack under a ledge and pulled out a snack. A little food for thought. While noshing on some dried beef, I slowly scanned my surroundings. The river, a little higher than waist deep, rushed by quickly, still carrying huge logs and branches. The water appeared to be rushing too fast to cross, but I stared at it and thought, I could get across. I walked to the river's edge and took a few paces into the river. Not so bad, I thought to myself. After a couple more steps, I felt my feet slowly sinking into the muddy bed. The storm had carried tons of soot that layered the canyon floor, making it unable to cross without seeping into the thick layer of mud.

I turned around and walked back onto the shore and began talking with the others. Some people seemed to be more shaken than others while some people just seemed bored to be stuck on this desert canyon island. The rain began to soften but the river still raged on. The island, more like a peninsula, was fairly small and reached up to the canyon wall at a fifteen degree angle. At the top, a ledge peered over the wall and had shaded a small portion of dry land below it. Underneath, the Floridian family of five took refuge and finished up their half eaten lunches. Unabashed and strong willed, they planned to just wait the storm out. We weren't more than a mile from the trailhead but I thought, "we could be stranded here, soaking wet until dark." Even in the desert its very easy to suffer hypothermia, especially at night and in a canyon like the Narrows.

Since the outdoors had drawn most of us to this very spot, it wasn't a coincidence that nearly all of us had seen that crazy Brit on the discovery channel who gets himself caught in these same types of situations. So we decided, much like Bear would, that a fire could help us get dry or at the very least pass the time until the river died down. We gathered what materials we could: some slightly damp dry grass, numerous twigs and sticks, and I had some leftover napkins in my lunch. There was a tall tree with green leaves and long, vine-like branches but it was completely soaked and unfit for fire. As soon we started working at the fire, people started to gather curiously and began to contribute to the effort. The only problem was everyone seemed to have a different idea of how it was supposed to be lit. I let everyone else try a few times and then I offered to give it a shot. My brother snickered "He works at REI, he should be able to get it lit in no time." Yeah, thanks buddy. Actually, we sell the items to bring along with you so that you don't have to use the old native methods.

Even with a lighter and some dry paper, there was nothing doing. The grass was too wet and the wind was picking up, although the rain had ceased. Even though the air wasn't very cold, I stripped off my wet shirt after I started to feel shivers. On the way to the airport, my brother's roomate said he knew some people that sufferd hypothermia in the Narrows; even though the air was warm, the water was cold and your body can stay significantly warmer when dry. (Thanks Bear!)

After trying to light the fire for what seemed like hours and to no avail, we all noticed the river began to slow its pace. The rip currents had died down but the river was still sweeping past us quickly and getting everyone across safely would be a gamble. Standing on the river's edge, I looked around and glanced at that tree a few times. The branches sure looked long but could they be long enough? I looked to the other side of the river at the other party staring back. Their side was much bigger with more trees and grass and well, more everything. I looked back at our tree and walked up to it. It had grown out the side of a ledge with a higher and lower ground. I wasn't the first to look it over and soon a few of us were swinging like monkeys from the branches, trying to pull the vines free of the trunk. The vines were tough but because they were wet, they tore after a few good tugs. The first couple of vines were too short to stretch across the river but three of us got hold of a good one. It reached all the way up to the top, tangling between multiple branches before weaving back down the other side of the tree. After a few fierce minutes of tug of war, we freed it from the tree and pulled over the the river. One of the guys held onto one and and paddled out across the river. By this time, I could have crossed safely myself, but not everyone in the group was physically able to do so. I didn't plan on getting stranded out here myself, and I wasn't going to leave anyone behind.

One by one, we shuttled people across the wasit deep water, still flowing steadily. The muddy riverbed made it difficult to cross without something to grasp onto. The vine served as an excellent rope and after getting the last person across, we held onto it, certain we'd have to do this a few more times. Walking over the bank, the other side led back into the river and sure enough, we used the vines a couple of more times before retiring it. The walk back down river was much harder after the flood. There were sinkholes, rocks and logs that zig zagged us back and forth across the river. At times, a few of us would stop and give some of the women an arm to help them through the hairier parts of the canyon. We traveled down the river for maybe an hour before we rounded a final bed and saw a large group of people awaiting our arrival. People crowded the trailhead, looking for their friends and relatives like we'd been missing for weeks. It may have only been a few hours, but the ranger waiting on the bank told me this only happens once or twice a year, and sometimes there are casualties. I guess it was pretty close but I'd be lying if I didn't say it was the hike of my life.

Walking towards the shuttle, the trail winded with the river, now flowing much heavier than when we first walked in and the banks were covered with black mud. Everywhere around us was black and covered with riverwash. Puzzled, I looked up and saw the strangest thing ever. From the top of the canyon wall, a waterfall flowed down into the canyon on the other side of the river. But this was like no waterfall I'd ever seen. Its water was as black as tar, pouring eerily into the canyon. The wildfires on the other side of the park were evident and the charcoal blackened the water, painting the canyon walls and the ground below solid black. After stopping for a necessary photo op of the black falls and of course, a group shot in front of the flash flood sign, we all filed back onto the shuttle bus. After we sat down, releived and somewhat relaxed, a woman glanced at me from across the aisle and asked, "What happened to your shirt?" Hmm, I thought. Where do I begin?