Chocolate Waterfalls

Just after my 20th birthday, in the summer of 1973, I decided to take a course at BYU about desert survival. I spent about 30 days in the deserts of Southern Utah learning how to live like a desert rat. On one hot and sultry day, my group was walking through a dusty little canyon when the skies started to grow very dark and ominous looking. The wind started to pick up and began to blow sand and dust into our faces. Our leaders told us that a thunderstorm was coming our way and that it would be a good idea to try to find some shelter. We found a little overhang of rock that afforded us just enough room to stand underneath it as the thunderstorm arrived. It was a nice spot to watch the show that nature was about to perform for us.

The sky continued to darken as the thunder cell approached. Then the rain began to fall. First, there were only a few big fat raindrops that smacked into the rocks and dust, making little plopping noises. Then, suddenly, the bottom dropped out of the clouds as they dumped their heavy load of water right on top of us. I was astonished to see our little canyon come alive with the motion of rushing water. It seemed like the canyon walls almost instantly erupted with a hundred waterfalls. These waterfalls were not the beautiful crystal clear waterfalls you see in the pictures on postcards. These were dark muddy brown waterfalls. They looked like gushing streams of chocolate milk falling from every crack and crevice in the canyon walls.

The lightning was as good as any fireworks show I have ever seen. Huge branching forks of light stabbed the ground with a mighty cracking noise. The sudden crack was followed immediately by a bellowing boom that temporarily drowned out all the noise of rushing water.

The gurgling little stream in the creek bed soon became a boiling, rushing soup of muddy water mixed with all sorts of desert debris. It was deep enough to soak our hiking boots, but we had no fear of being swept away by the current. Fortunately, our little overhang kept the rest of our clothing fairly dry as the thunder cell did its best to impress us with its prowess. Almost, but not quite as quickly as it arrived, the thunder cell moved on and the show was over. Within 20 minutes, the skies began to clear and the sun came out again. Everything returned to normal except for one thing. The water in the creek was still 6 to 8 inches deep and covered most of the creek bed in the floor of the canyon. As we picked up our gear and resumed our march, we had to slosh through the muddy water instead of walk on nice dry sand as before.

As we marched on, it slowly began to dawn on me that the creek was our only source of drinking water in the desert. With some measure of alarm, I realized that my water canteen was nearly empty. I began to imagine the worst. I imagined that the muddy brown goop that we were presently walking in was probably contaminated by all sorts of disgusting toxic stuff like drowned jack rabbits, dead scorpions and coyote poo. I couldn’t bear the thought of drinking such a foul brew. I uttered a silent prayer in my heart. Please let me find some other source of drinking water before my canteen runs dry. That night I went to sleep with a fervent hope that a new day would bring a miracle. My canteen was now empty.

I slept fitfully on a little shelf of rock under another overhang in the canyon. It was about 20 feet above the level of the canyon floor. When I awoke the next morning, I peered over the edge of the shelf to check out the water. My heart sank when I saw that the water still looked like dark chocolate milk.

Expecting to die of some terrible disease, I slowly picked my way down to the water’s edge with my canteen. Maybe I could find a quiet little pool where the water wasn’t quite so nasty looking. To my utter amazement and delight, I found a tiny little spring of water bubbling up out of the ground just a few feet from the edge of the creek. As I filled my canteen, my heart filled with gratitude. The water was cool and clear and tasted refreshingly like the mineral water you can get in an expensive restaurant. To this day, I have never looked at a glass of water quite the same and I certainly will never again take such a simple blessing for granted.