Kanarra Creek - an experiment in hypothermia

You'd think we would know better.

Stephanie grew up in South Carolina, proving she know better than to mess with cold water.  I, on the other hand, grew up in Newfoundland, which for all intents and purposes is the North Pole (see the map in the Bryce Canyon Post).  Up there it starts snowing before Halloween and carries on pretty much non-stop until Easter.  If you are lucky, it warms up enough for it to all melt by Memorial Day.  That gives you three lovely months of wind and rain before it turns back into snow again.

One thing that you learn quickly in a place like Newfoundland is that staying warm - and especially dry - is not just nice, it is a necessity. Those who fail to learn this at a young age, generally don't make it to an old age.

Once when I was quite young we were walking across a frozen lake to our cabin when my father made a rare lapse in judgement, failed to test a weak spot of ice and fell through up to his neck.  I have vivid memories of him jogging around us in circles trying to stay warm (and keep his clothes from freezing solid), as we hurried to the cabin and the promise of dry clothes and a warm fire.

Why then, 30 years later do we find ourselves purposely dunking our feet into icy cold water in a frozen stream miles from our car? Let's just say it was an experiment - one that was to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was indeed far too late in the year to be doing  hikes in canyons with running water.

The canyon was carved by Kanarra Creek, creating another gem of a hike just north of us outside the town of Kanarraville.  The creek makes up the entirely of the small town's water supply, and so understandably, they politely request that if you hike there, you leave your dog at home.  Considering Maggie's general aversion to cold water (something she learned from Stephanie I am sure...) it was probably a good thing anyway.

At about 6000 ft elevation, there was already snow on the ground and the small stream was just starting to freeze.  Crossing the creek on the smooth ice covered rocks was a bit like trying to hold your balance while stepping on a loose pile of lightly buttered bowling balls.

We were able to keep our feet dry for most of the hike in, but once the valley narrowed into a tight slot canyon, walking in the water was the only option.  So on top of the slippery rocks, the the ice cold water left us with virtually no feeling below our knees.   It is surprising we didn't bust our butts more than we did.

The highlight of the hike was a short but spectacular slot canyon with a small waterfalls that you had to climb past using possibly the most rickety ladder we had ever laid eyes on.

All in all, we spent about 30 minutes exploring and photographing the canyon, all while trying to stay out of the water as much as possible, and trying to ignore the frostbite that was clearly setting into our toes.

When we got back to the car later that afternoon, we laughed at our frozen pant legs, and as we untied our frozen shoe laces, decided that perhaps we would choose dry canyons in the future - or at least until spring.

Up next... The North Rim - The Grand Canyon, but backwards!