It was around seven in the morning when we pulled out of Denver, beginning the six-hour drive that would be the start of our four days of canyoneering. A friend of mine is the experiential education director at Colorado Academy, and we were heading out to map a new route for his class trips. Some of the canyons in southeastern Utah were among the last areas to be surveyed in the U.S. because of their isolation from civilization and lack of water. I didn’t know exactly what I was getting into, but I knew that whatever it was would be an adventure.

Once we arrived, we began the seemingly relaxed venture down the beginning of the canyons, the sandstone around us wearing raw anything it touched. Soon the canyons began to cut deep and narrow, and then deeper still, widening as the rivers joined together.

It’s unlike any other landscape down there — you navigate seemingly un-passable narrows on your way down, one leading to another drop, as the sliver of sky up above you slips farther away. As the light is finally fading, then you hit the water; a quite unnerving thing, rappeling down into an unknown pool of water, especially with all your camera gear on you. So is the path down into the canyons of Utah, a beautifully isolated and mysteriously unforgiving place.

Read more about the quest for an outdoors route for CA students, as well as some pointers for canyoneering in "Five Tips for Summer Canyoneering" by Paul Vincent.