Day 16: Thursday, May 27th, 2004

The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park: Hiking the Join Trail and Losing Scottite

By Nathan Henderson

We I woke up this morning and the first thing that I had to do was ask Ron for help because some dunderhead had tied the two zippers of our tent together so that neither Gabe, Tim or I could get out. Perhaps that was a sign, but whatever it meant we all ignored it. Instead we let our newly purchased lunch materials occupy the picnic table while we packed lunch for our hike that was to come. With a few people complaining about only one sandwich in their bag we headed off to the trailhead. It was Dave’s brilliant idea to bring along one of our blue water containers so that we would have water at the vans when we returned at the end of the day, indeed this proved more than brilliant.
We plodded our way enthusiastically down the Joint Trail eager for view after view that never ceased to amaze us. One valley field in particular was so peppered with flowers that it took Gabe about fifteen minutes to walk the first fifteen feet; he would take on step then take two pictures. He finally gave up trying to capture every nuance of beauty on film and joined the rest of the group in just trying to remember its colors.
In every direction we were surrounded by Permian sandstone with varying streaks of oxidized and reduced portions. We hypothesized that this was due to the percolation of ground water through the sandstone. The streaks were due to the preferential percolation due to slight variants in grain size within the sandstone. By lunch time we were thankful for the shade that this sandstone provided oxidized or reduced.
Zip-lock bags full of needed energy emerged from backpacks, as did one vocal raven. He pestered Kate for food and was quite persistent even when Tim tried to chase it away. Reluctantly we all ventured back out under the oppressing sun. Luckily Dave had packed more than his share of water and so he was instantly everyone’s best friend, but even so we were starting to run low on water with only half of the trip behind us.
All of our troubles were soon forgotten when we headed down into the deep joints for which our trail was named. We went farther and farther down until the rock walls extended more than fifty feet above our heads. These simple joints in the rock were our trails and they made for marvelous trails. The floor was sandy and soft, we all welcomed the cool shade that our deep position offered and the shadows cast from above added to its mystique. At one particular juncture there were two thinner joints that extended out perpendicular to our current trail and we decided to try our hand at some exploring. As we went farther into the new crack those who were not so thin were left behind and only a few of us continued on to explore. There was nothing but light at the end of the tunnel and we all turned back to greet the group.

Then Nate Scott got lost. We didn’t know it then since we thought he was way ahead of the group, which he was just in the wrong direction. Mile after mile went under foot that we thought was the last one and when finally the parking lot came it to view we sighed in relief. This was short lived since Nate was no where to be found. Soon enough the group went from tired and exhausted straight into what Tess called “rescue mode.” We looked at a map and determined a number of points that Nate could have accidentally ended up at and decided to place pairs at each of them while Ron went and talked to the Park Rangers. Dave, Gabe and Nate Henderson stayed at the trailhead in case Nate made his way out correctly. At nine thirty, when Ron returned with the whole group in the big van we were becoming convinced that Nate was not going to just walk out of the woods as we were hoping. The Park Rangers always gave missing people until ten o’clock to come out on their own and then a search would begin. Ron and the rest of the group headed back to the campground where Ron would continue on to the Ranger Station.
Long after sundown Gabe, Nate H. and Dave were concocting sandwiches in the mini van when Dave heard something that sounded suspiciously like a Nate tromping through the desert. To our relief it was. Everywhere we went the four of us were greeted with joy and relief. Ron gave Nate a hug and the five of us waited for the Ranger to arrive. It was not long before he did and we explained the whole situation. Nodding his head he informed us about his “Testosterone Theory:” 15 males die for every 2 females in the wilderness each year. Men, he explained will think they can make it; they will continue on into the night and possibly kill themselves. Women on the other hand will stop and wait making them easier to find and less likely to die just sitting there. His theory certainly applied in our case.
That night we all heard Nate’s story of how he missed the trail and ended up dehydrated at the Devil’s Kitchen Campground. There he re-hydrated with some help from the campers there. He was also given some directions and a glowstick. Then he began to “cut across country” and many stories about jumping canyons ensued. It was a top-notch campfire story. All’s well that ends well, and everyone slept well that night.