Anyone who worked on my crew the first year knows and hates German Creek. This canyon almost killed us several times. Every time we entered, we’d try a different (hopefully easier) way. We tried the north side, but it was too steep and rocky, and the downed trees were so big I looked like a dying floppy fish every time I crawled over them. The south side was a combination of sheer rock interspersed with what we referred to as “Willow Hell”—a tangle of willow too thick to break through and guaranteed to dump a few hundred ticks on your back. No, the easiest way to get into German Creek was straight up a steep sandy slope that literally fell out from underneath you every time you took a step. This was exhausting, especially with a 50lb pack on your back. We went to that creek at least thirty times one summer (sometimes twice in one day.) We suffered from heat exhaustion and massive allergy attacks. We also took some serious falls, but miraculously, no one on my crew got hurt.
The second year, we changed our study design and didn’t have to hike into German Creek until the end of the season. At this point it was just me and my lead tech. We knew what we were in for, so we bit the bullet and went in.
“Not too bad,” each of us said on the way out.
We spoke too soon.
I took a step and felt the hillside fall out from underneath me like an avalanche of dirt. Somehow, I managed to dive forward and grab the willows in front of me as my body fell downward. After all was said and done, I was left hanging from two vines with no footing underneath me, screaming at the top of my lungs, “I hate F*@! German Creek!”
