We start out sometime after 9 a.m. and after one more picto and two small granaries, we don't see more prehistoric art or structures until we reach Kanab Creek.

We stop in at Pigeon Spring and find a tiny flow, more of a hand-sized puddle filled with sulphurous slime. Disappointing. Ken plays tag with a canyon rattler, and I snap a quick photo before he slithers quickly into the brush. Continuing, we find water in a horse trough near Wildband Canyon, which holds an alcove suitable for lunch, after which we slog on in the heat to Willow Canyon.

Ken is re-engineering the various drips and drops of Willow Spring after we locate in a half mile up the canyon. Soon, we have a flow sufficient to support two filters, filtering simultaneously. We gather water in what bottles we have and return later, after sunset, for more. We are camped on the coluvium opposite the canyon. Dinner is a stew of potatoes and lentils and peas. Deluxe.

During the evening, the breeze flaps the tent, we hear owls hooting overhead, and toward morning Mourning Doves and coyotes.

Arising early, we head through the brush to the foot of Swapp Trail, where Mark, Ken, Rebecca, and Robert climb the short distance out of the canyon, and perhaps to Nedras or the Rocking-V. We remnant hikers encourage them to not support the bigots in Bigotville, Kanab who have recently endorsed a "natural family" resolution where every woman is cow to a "full quiver of children" and relegated to destroying the earth via dramatic overpopulation, and where diversity is denigrated in the name of 'religious' intolerance. I suppose "religious intolerance" is redundant, is it not?

The resolution states "...We see our homes as open to a full quiver of children, the source of family continuity and social growth. We envision young women growing into wives, homemakers, and mothers; and we see young men growing into husbands, home-builders, and fathers."

Then, there were seven. The character of the canyon changes, broader with taller walls and more dessert-like foliage. This translates into hotter with more dust.

Now, while gazing at a Zane Grey sky - cerulean blue dotted with fluffy clouds pasted against the white and deep red rust of canyon walls - is this the Hermit Shale? Al reads from the Ed Hatch Cabin log, where folks whine and threaten cow fondlers and tree huggers, punctuated by notes about "Bigotville," referring to the propagation proponents in Kanab, shithead capitol of the West, although an astounding number of communities are vying for this distinctive title of elitism. We have showered and done light laundry and we regard the Ed Hatch Cabin as an oasis of yore. Water gushes from the spring wrapped in a pipe as we enjoy bean burritos garnished with fresh green peppers and avocados and tomatoes, luscious. The Magnificent Seven have arrived.

The short story is that we could not find the North end of the Ranger Trail. After three hours and at least three additional miles, Al and I found the trail - abandoned but not marked, and hidden up a side canyon. The positive aspect was seeing two Bighorn Sheep, looking askance at us, as if we were crazy - perhaps they're right. We saw lots of Chuckars and some old rock walls in Jensen Canyon. Now, as dark descends we're somewhere between Jensen and Big Cove Canyons. The trail that is is not where it is shown on the map. The trail that is shown on the map is not.

And, in upper Kanab, we encountered several bulbous Esplanade outcrops plentifully festooned with gorgeous pictos, including some amazing multi-colored images - even an upside-down image of Dick Cheney celebrating after emptying your tax money into pet projects like Halliburton and other private welfare entities so important to (their) self interest (oops, I mean national security).

About a mile below camp on Kanab Creek we see cairns and an old FS sign for the Ranger Trial 41, announcing 13 miles to Lower Jumpup Spring. Ahh, relief, because we are wondering if we will find the Ranger at all, or end up walking all the way down Kanab to where it intersects with Jumpup Canyon at the edge of Grand Canyon NP.

Well, the sign is typical of many FS signs - off by quite a bit. We roll along the Esplanade, gaining and losing lots of elevation as we detour around and through side-canyons. Fortunately, a storm rolls in and provides rain and cooling winds. It rains hard enough, that, combined with the wind - prompts us to don jackets and pack covers. Soon, however, we are cooking in the sunlight - exposed on the billowy, barren Esplande. Rolling along.

Thirteen miles into the hike, with dusk settling, we realize there is no way we will make it to Jumpup Spring, wherever it is. We stop on the Esplanade when we see rain-filled potholes and camp with an unbelievable view into the dusky canyons. Despite flat feet, tired muscles, we feel fortunate because if not for the rain and cool weather we would not be this far and if not for the rain, no water for another 3 or 4 miles, perhaps more? Using pot lids to scavenger water from the shallow water pockets, we get by. Gordon feels poor and slips into bed after a cup of tea.

And, lo, we did speak fondly of and coveted the Jugs of Jeremy. (A reference to the spectacular, rejuvenating water jugs left for us by Jeremy C. on the Esplanade last year. See the 2005 Kanab Creek Wilderness trek for details.)

The Esplanade Terrain song echoes in my head as I drift off to sleep in the star-studded bosom of the land.

It is difficult to get rolling along the Esplanade, yet we are looking forward to the oasis of Mtn. Sheep. Al calls off the roll and we lounge in the shade of a Juniper, gazing into the lush foliage of Cottonwood tops poking out from the upper reaches of nearby Jumpup Canyon.

Kathleen and I encounter the first people of the trip at Mtn. Sheep Spring, and they soon leave as the direct sunlight slides behind the towering walls. We lounge in the enveloping shade and gaze at the pictos near the origin of the spring. Delightful. Eventually, we laze to a campsite and enjoy a shower before a dinner of tofu enchiladas and rice.

We're on our way to Indian Hollow, where we find lots of fossil impressions on our travel up to the boulder pile and deep pool which prevents easy access to this canyon.

It's growing hot as we weave our way back to camp, enjoy another luscious shower and the camaraderie of the magnificent seven relishing a tranquil dinner.

We were up in the dark and hiking a bit after 6 a.m. Up the canyon, up some colossal steps, then pop, we're once again on the Esplanade. Around we swing to the Cottonwoods near Kwagunt Hollow. Then comes the slog up the precipitous switch-backs and the loping promenade around to the notch and then the final climb. Stretched out in the shade, we await the gathering of the group.

We saw two people in 9 days, and these not until the 7th day.

Nedras in Fredonia is closed today, so we are forced to eat in Bigotville, utah, home of perpetual propagation until the world implodes. Then, Mary and Al head for realms to the South, Aaron and Gordon take a backcountry tour home, and Paul, Kathleen and I ply the crowded provo Parking Procession (I-15) back to work and a look at the photos from the trip. Esplanade, keep on rolling......