Daisy Canyon

Apr 1988

By: Wendell W. Moyer

Baptism of Fire: My Introduction to Climbing in the Inyos

As I was later to learn, I had been invited along on the little Daisy Canyon outing because of my (presumed) climbing skills. After all, had I not climbed in the Sierra Nevada and elsewhere for many years? Had I not climbed all of the west coast's 14,000 footers as well as completed the Sierra Emblem Peaks list ... and rarely passed up an opportunity to talk about it? So my climbing experience in the Inyos and the desert area didn't amount to much - some car camping and day hikes on well used trails ... So What? Climbing is climbing and mountains are mountains! Right?

Our little hike in the Inyos had been organized by Richard Cain -- "Killer Cam" as he was affectionately known to the regulars in Saline Valley. Richard was a local history buff and was also well known for his video filming prowess the Cecil B. DeMille of Saline Valley if you will. Richard's project at the time was the Salt Tramway and the object of our trip was to hike the old Tramway Trail from the Inyo ridge (8600 ft) down to its terminus in the Saline Valley below (1100 ft).

As Richard explained the details to me, the actual hike was only supposed to require less than a full day all told, even though there was some 7000 ft. to descend, since we were to be on a good trail the entire way. According to his information, there really wasn't going to be any "climbing" involved but nevertheless he thought that I would like to go along for the exercise. The plan, however, was intentionally to make a two-day backpack trip of it so that we could take our time and enjoy the ambiance. Our layover camp site was to be the Second Power Station at about the 6200 ft. level. And the date had been selected so as to coincide with a full moon. Just imagining the view from that incredible vantage point was enough to excite everyone. The next day we were to continue the hike down the remaining portion of the trail and be met at the bottom about noon by Alan Akin.

Alan Akin, it should be known, was Saline Valley's "Man of the Inyos." Unquestionably he knew more about the Inyo Mountains and its system of trails than any man alive. Taciturn by nature and not given to lengthly descriptions he was also (as I was to learn) a master of understatement sort of reminiscent of John Muir describing a "little day stroll in Yosemite" which for the average person corresponded to a grueling 12 hour struggle. And Alan was, of course, our sole source of information about the Tramway Trail. Who better?

Our little hiking group was comprised of four people:

Richard "Killer" Cain - our leader and organizer of the trip. A soon to be retired electronics engineer, Richard was a vigorous, active man of about 60 at the time. He was reasonably fit but by no one's reckoning would he be considered as an "out-doorsman." Loved by one and all and well known in Saline Valley for this video film epics he also had the reputation of being a bit scattered, disorganized and forgetful.

Myself -- a reasonable normal family man and a professional research chemist when I wasn't off traipsing around in the mountains. I was probably a few years younger than Richard and, if I may say, in a somewhat better state of physical conditioning.

Pat Ormsby -- a businessman from the Reno area. Pat was an essential member of the team as he was the one to provide the required 4WD vehicle. Pat was then in this early 40's. Off-road jeeping was his big thing and as a consequence his backpacking experience was limited. "Who walks when you can ride?"

And finally Holly Ann -- Pat's cute, little, just-turned 16 year old daughter. Holly Ann had never before been backpacking and, for that matter, had hardly ever even been on a real hike. She came along at dad's invitation because it sounded like "a neat thing to do."

A fifth person, "Mammoth Carol" Broberg - a 4Oish teacher from Mammoth Lakes, had planned to accompany us the entire way along with her Border Collie-like dog, Homer; but in the last minute she opted to shorten her trip to a single day skipping our layover at the 2nd Power Station. Among other things Carol was a ski instructor at Mammoth Mountain and an unexpected schedule change required that she return a day earlier. She and her dog would start with the other four of us but move faster and keep on going until she reached the bottom. Her car had been left down in Saline Valley the day before.

Hers was to be only a one day trip so she was traveling light -- just a small pack with some food, 2 qts. of water and an emergency sleeping bag. Carol was a very responsible person and an experienced mountaineer. No one questioned her decision (to travel alone.) After all, wasn't this supposed to be only a little jaunt down the hill?

The year was 1988 and the time was mid-April. It was a bright, gusty cool spring morning when we assembled at Alan Akin's place there in Keeler. Everyone was excited about the trip. Everyone was fully equipped or at least so they said. In due time we were all loaded in Pat's vehicle and on our way up the famous Yellow Grade Road to the Cerro Gordo ghost town high above on the ridge.

Cerro Gordo is a great place to visit -- old mines, houses, hotels, stores, structures of all descriptions. The caretakers, Jody Stewart and her partner, Mike Patterson, have a fine little museum there open to the occasional tourist who wanders by. We took our time and enjoyed the wonders of the area. Who's in a hurry? Well, maybe Carol. But what's to worry? "For Carol, it should take her only half a day to get to the bottom."

One couldn't help but notice how cold and windy it was there in Cerro Gordo, certainly below freezing, and there were occasional patches of snow. As we proceeded to drive on up the Inyo Ridge, it came as no great surprise to have our way blocked by a large snow bank.

"No problem", said Alan. "We'll just go down and around by way of the Swansea Road." But this all takes time, of course, ... time certainly not figured into Carol's schedule.

So it's back down the Yellow Grade Road and up again on the old Swansea 4WD road. No snow this time and no particular problems although this road requires some serious four wheel driving and is necessarily quite slow.

It was about 2:30 PM when we finally arrived at the Tramway Power Station located at the 8600 ft. level on the Inyo Ridge. Carol and her dog, Homer, were off like a shot. She's got to hustle now in order to get down to Saline Valley below by nightfall. The remaining four of us are more relaxed about everything; our goal is easily attainable and we have ample time.

Even though it was Richard's "party" I took it upon myself to check out the others' packs and gear. After all wasn't that really why I was asked to come? "Listen up everyone. You got everything you need? Do you have enough water? Remember it's going to be two days. Make sure you have enough. The canyon is supposed to be a dry one."

All professed to be fully prepared. Their gear was makeshift and rag-tag since back-packing was not a usual activity for them, but they appeared to have the necessary basics.

And, of course, I, as the experienced "old hand" had everything one could reasonable need. As to water, why I figured that I was carrying more than a "whole gallon" stashed in various small bottles throughout my pack. That certainly seemed ample standing there in the snow buffeted by the windy, thin cold air of the Inyo Ridge. When conditions are like that, who's thirsty? And as an afterthought I had even included some climbing gear -- a piece of 5 mm rope all of 20 ft. in length. A 5 mm (approximately 1/4 inch) kern mantle climbing rope doesn't look like much but probably has a breaking strength in excess of 1000 lb. That fact not withstanding, it is still not entirely reassuring when you are hung out over a cliff on such a rope.

After the obligatory picture taking of the ridge tramway power station (an impressive structure indeed) away we go down the slope. The Tramway Trail was not immediately evident but Carol and Homer's tracks were still quite fresh and obvious, especially where they crossed snow patches. The two of them were already long gone and out of sight.

Within a short distance we located the old trail as had Carol. It was in relatively good shape and easy to follow. Being a horse trail, it followed the contour of the mountainside with occasional switchbacks at only a moderate angle. The trail (any trail) is certainly preferable to a direct line, cross-country route in steep, rugged terrain such as we were in.

At this point the tramway was some distance off to the north. Our trail was running essentially parallel following a line of old power line/telephone poles. What difference "all roads lead to Rome." Since dropping over the east side of the ridge, the air was now calm, the sky beautifully clear blue and the temperature noticeably warming as we descended. The last traces of snow disappeared after only a few hundred feet of descent. Spirits were high. We're on schedule and every thing was going great.

At about the 7000 ft. level our trail, which until that time had been so clear and obvious, mysteriously disappeared out at the end of a rocky promontory point. Where could it have gone? A brief search revealed nothing resembling a trail. The descending line of power poles were still quite visible but no trail.

No matter, the 2nd Power Station, some 800 ft. below, had come into view. You can't get lost. Take it easy. Every man (or woman) for himself down the steep scree strewn slope. Slip and slide. Sand and dirt in the boots. No graceful way to do it.

We arrived at the 2nd Power Station (roughly 6200 ft.) at about 5:00PM, still early enough to get a good look around and some great pictures. And what a sight it was. Perched on a rocky outcropping, this massive wood beam structure is like nothing you have ever seen before ... sort of resembling the wreckage of a grounded ancient juggernaut. Only on the north side was its perch attached to the mountain side and accessible. The other three sides were cliffs or very steep hillsides. The views from its deck were spectacular especially to the east, down canyon. The main cable system was still intact with its salt buckets dangling beneath a full 2000 ft. above the canyon floor in places.

Because of the remoteness of the site much of the old facility was still largely undisturbed ... almost as if the workers had just gone home for the night. Spare parts and rusty old tools were still found at their appointed locations on the deck. Debris and miscellaneous artifacts of all sorts were scattered about over a broader area.

But it's the massiveness of the structure that makes the greatest impression: huge wooden beams, giant steel fly wheels and accessory parts and a massive electrical motor. The question was asked a dozen times, "How did they get all this stuff up here?" Truly an engineering wonder.

That evening was magical. The temperature was cool but not unpleasant, the sky was crystal clear, the air was dead calm and the silence was almost deafening. And then add to that the huge full moon rising on the eastern horizon. We all howled like a pack of deranged coyotes. In a lifetime you don't get a better evening than that.

The next morning was equally beautiful -- cool, calm and brilliantly clear. No one was in any hurry to leave as it was so peaceful and beautiful. Moreover, why hurry when all we had ahead of us was an easy stroll down the trail to Alan and our waiting car in the valley below.

So we took our time getting ready. Because I had so much water, or so I thought, I indulged in the luxury of washing my hands and face and brushing my teeth. A final check of my pack revealed that I had only a pint of water left for the last leg of the down climb. Well, no matter, that should work. It was cool and who's thirsty?

We had one small problem, however. Where was the trail? The south side of the canyon was ruled out; it was obviously too steep ... nearly vertical in places. It was known that the trail at some point crossed over from the north side 'were we were to the south, but where? A faint but obvious trail was observed on the north flank winding its way out and down to the next tramway pylon on a rocky outcropping some distance to the east. All agreed; that had to be it! So off we go. The time was about 8:30 AM.

To our disappointment upon arriving at the pylon the trail ended. Apparently this was only a service trail for access to that particular pylon. It went no farther. So now what do we do? Go back? If so, what then? There certainly

were no other trails that anyone had seen and our view of the area was excellent from that airy vantage point.

I reminded everyone that it was known for certain that the trail eventually ended up on the south side of the canyon. I had, in fact, hiked up the trail (south side) from the valley floor to beyond the 1st Power Station at 3500 ft. the previous year. The trail, therefore, had to cross the bottom of the canyon somewhere between where we were and the 1st Power Station. With such logic how could anyone disagree? Thus all we had to do, so it seemed, was get down to the valley floor somehow; the ascending south side trail likely would come into view in short order.

From where we were standing the slope down to the canyon floor was very long and steep (over 1000 ft. elevation loss), but it looked doable. It would be messy and unpleasant but what was the alternative?

At this point in the narrative you should know that the day was getting noticeably warmer, and the lower we went the warmer it got. We where on he south facing slope and the sun was increasingly intense as it rose higher in the sky. It was already evident to me that my limited supply of water was not going to last. I was going to be thirsty when we reached the car for sure. But I took some solace in the knowledge that a cold beer or two would be waiting for me in the valley below. "My, won't it taste good!"

So I was watching my water consumption and preparing myself mentally to be a little thirsty. But what I wasn't prepared for, as we stood there on the point about to make the great descent of the slope, was the startling request from Richard, "Say Wendell, do you suppose that you could spare a little swig of your water?"

"Good grief, Richard! Don't you have any water... none at all?"

'Well, I thought I did but I am afraid that I forgot to pack those bottles," Richard replied sheepishly.

"Whoa, wait a minute. Pat and Holly Ann, how much water do you have?"

"Less than a quart between us," answered Pat.

"Well, the fat's in the fire now, Richard. Sure, here you go. Have a drink. We'll share it between us--one whole pint. And that's all we've got till we get back to the car."

With much mumbling and complaining from the ranks we start down the slope. I was reminded at the start and several times along the way that they weren't climbers and that I was expecting a lot from them. I made my best effort to be congenial and reassuring but the reality of the situation was becoming all too apparent. There were likely to be some difficult places ahead. The inexperience of the group and their somewhat questionable physical condition could be a problem ... possibly a major problem.

In order to locate safe passage routes it was necessary for me to move out far in the lead. Down climbing is certainly more difficult than ascending as far as route finding is concerned ... and this slope was a tough one -- many impassable ramparts. I was moving fast and working hard. As we approached the bottom, I could see that the worst was yet to come. Our wide couloir gradually necked down to a single steep gully blocked by a large chock stone at the top.

I arrived at the chock stone well in advance of the others (they were slow movers) and my immediate reaction was, "Oh God, now what? If they were complaining about climbing before, wait till they get a load of this!" I knew that I could down climb it but no way for the others. "Whether they like it or not, it's time for the rope" ... all 20 ft. of it.

Here, I am happy to report, my little group surprised me. When they finally arrived and I explained the situation, they accepted the inevitable without hesitation or complaining. I belayed them from above while they each down climbed as best they could. My little rope was none too long. The packs were then lowered and finally I down climbed on my own.

Great relief! We're on the canyon floor at last. The time was about 11:30 AM. Richard and I were already out of water. It's warm and getting warmer ( you could even call it "hot"). I figure that we were at about the 4500 ft. level. "The trail has to be nearby. Yes, but where? Up Canyon? Unlikely ... just look at that canyon wall; how could there possibly be a horse trail up there? Ok, if it's not up canyon, then it's got to be down."

So down the canyon we go at a newly confident pace. Walking on the canyon floor was easy .. much too easy. I knew it couldn't last. And sure enough around the next big bend we came to a screeching halt at the top of a 20 ft. high dry waterfall. "Horses sure as hell couldn't go down that thing. The trail has to be nearby somehow." But there was no sign whatever of a trail. Look as we might, nothing! Our hopes for finding the trail were now gone.

But no big problem. It was relatively easy for everyone to down climb this one although we did have to lower our packs. Like it or not we were now committed to going down the canyon at least until there was some reasonable place to break out ... or until our passage was blocked - an eventuality we chose not to think about.

Pat and daughter Holly Ann finished their last water about this time, roughly 12:30PM. Stopping for lunch wasn't even considered. Lunch doesn't go down so good without water. The sun was directly overhead and it was just plain hot. The "troops" moved more slowly now. Coaxing didn't help much.

On occasion I would catch sight of what appeared to be foot prints and what I thought were also dog tracks. How fresh, I couldn't tell. Were they Carol and Homer's? I took some comfort in thinking that Carol had also come this way. "The route must run!"

With all too much regularity we came to one dry waterfall after another. Each was greeted with great apprehension. But with each we were able to find somehow a down climb route usually requiring rope belays and the lowering of packs. We're making it, but it is time consuming .. precious time.

2 PM found us at about the 3600 ft. level and for the first time at a point in the canyon where a climb out was possible. A tramway pylon was visible directly above, maybe 6700 ft. We knew that the trail was up there. If we got up to that pylon, I knew for sure that we could be down to the car in short order. Up there we would be safe! The slope was steep and scree covered. It would have been ugly and unpleasant but it was definitely doable.

"Ok guys, this is our escape hatch. Up we go." were no other trails that anyone had seen and our view of the area was excellent from that airy vantage point.

I reminded everyone that it was known for certain that the trail eventually ended up on the south side of the canyon. I had, in fact, hiked up the trail (south side) from the valley floor to beyond the 1st Power Station at 3500 ft. the previous year. The trail, therefore, had to cross the bottom of the canyon somewhere between where we were and the 1st Power Station. With such logic how could anyone disagree? Thus all we had to do, so it seemed, was get down to the valley floor somehow; the ascending south side trail likely would come into view in short order.

From where we were standing the slope down to the canyon floor was very long and steep (over 1000 ft. elevation loss), but it looked doable. It would be messy and unpleasant but what was the alternative?

At this point in the narrative you should know that the day was getting noticeably warmer, and the lower we went the warmer it got. We where on he south facing slope and the sun was increasingly intense as it rose higher in the sky. It was already evident to me that my limited supply of water was not going to last. I was going to be thirsty when we reached the car for sure. But I took some solace in the knowledge that a cold beer or two would be waiting for me in the valley below. "My, won't it taste good!"

So I was watching my water consumption and preparing myself mentally to be a little thirsty. But what I wasn't prepared for, as we stood there on the point about to make the great descent of the slope, was the startling request from Richard, "Say Wendell, do you suppose that you could spare a little swig of your water?"

"Good grief, Richard! Don't you have any water... none at all?"

'Well, I thought I did but I am afraid that I forgot to pack those bottles," Richard replied sheepishly.

"Whoa, wait a minute. Pat and Holly Ann, how much water do you have?"

"Less than a quart between us," answered Pat.

"Well, the fat's in the fire now, Richard. Sure, here you go. Have a drink. We'll share it between us--one whole pint. And that's all we've got till we get back to the car."

With much mumbling and complaining from the ranks we start down the slope. I was reminded at the start and several times along the way that they weren't climbers and that I was expecting a lot from them. I made my best effort to be congenial and reassuring but the reality of the situation was becoming all too apparent. There were likely to be some difficult places ahead. The inexperience of the group and their somewhat questionable physical condition could be a problem ... possibly a major problem.

In order to locate safe passage routes it was necessary for me to move out far in the lead. Down climbing is certainly more difficult than ascending as far as route finding is concerned ... and this slope was a tough one -- many impassable ramparts. I was moving fast and working hard. As we approached the bottom, I could see that the worst was yet to come. Our wide couloir gradually necked down to a single steep gully blocked by a large chock stone at the top.

I arrived at the chock stone well in advance of the others (they were slow movers) and my immediate reaction was, "Oh God, now what? If they were complaining about climbing before, wait till they get a load of this!" I knew that I could down climb it but no way for the others. "Whether they like it or not, it's time for the rope" ... all 20 ft. of it.

Here, I am happy to report, my little group surprised me. When they finally arrived and I explained the situation, they accepted the inevitable without hesitation or complaining. I belayed them from above while they each down climbed as best they could. My little rope was none too long. The packs were then lowered and finally I down climbed on my own.

Great relief! We're on the canyon floor at last. The time was about 11:30 AM. Richard and I were already out of water. It's warm and getting warmer ( you could even call it "hot"). I figure that we were at about the 4500 ft. level. "The trail has to be nearby. Yes, but where? Up Canyon? Unlikely ... just look at that canyon wall; how could there possibly be a horse trail up there? Ok, if it's not up canyon, then it's got to be down."

So down the canyon we go at a newly confident pace. Walking on the canyon floor was easy .. much too easy. I knew it couldn't last. And sure enough around the next big bend we came to a screeching halt at the top of a 20 ft. high dry waterfall. "Horses sure as hell couldn't go down that thing. The trail has to be nearby somehow." But there was no sign whatever of a trail. Look as we might, nothing! Our hopes for finding the trail were now gone.

But no big problem. It was relatively easy for everyone to down climb this one although we did have to lower our packs. Like it or not we were now committed to going down the canyon at least until there was some reasonable place to break out ... or until our passage was blocked - an eventuality we chose not to think about.

Pat and daughter Holly Ann finished their last water about this time, roughly 12:30PM. Stopping for lunch wasn't even considered. Lunch doesn't go down so good without water. The sun was directly overhead and it was just plain hot. The "troops" moved more slowly now. Coaxing didn't help much.

On occasion I would catch sight of what appeared to be foot prints and what I thought were also dog tracks. How fresh, I couldn't tell. Were they Carol and Homer's? I took some comfort in thinking that Carol had also come this way. "The route must run!"

With all too much regularity we came to one dry waterfall after another. Each was greeted with great apprehension. But with each we were able to find somehow a down climb route usually requiring rope belays and the lowering of packs. We're making it, but it is time consuming .. precious time.

2 PM found us at about the 3600 ft. level and for the first time at a point in the canyon where a climb out was possible. A tramway pylon was visible directly above, maybe 6700 ft. We knew that the trail was up there. If we got up to that pylon, I knew for sure that we could be down to the car in short order. Up there we would be safe! The slope was steep and scree covered. It would have been ugly and unpleasant but it was definitely doable.

"Ok guys, this is our escape hatch. Up we go."

to go forward, down canyon. There was no turning back now. I was scared I don't mind saying. In my whole life I had never gotten myself into such a predicament. Our bridges had been burned behind us in a manner of speaking. Our fates were no longer under our control.

By this time "the troops" were hardly moving at all. Even the admonition, "You must somehow move faster or we're not going to make it" didn't speed them up appreciably. I had to get water and fast. A decision had to be made?

"Ok, listen up. Here's what I am going to do. I am going to leave you and move out ahead as fast as I can. If I get hung up and absolutely can't make it, I will drop my pack, come back up canyon and get out by way of our escape route." (To them I was still maintaining the pretense that I could actually get out in this way.) "If I am successful, I will come back to you as fast as I can with water. Have no fear, I am not abandoning you."

With these words I found some hidden strength. I was off at as fast a pace as I could muster in that kind of terrain. My pulse was racing. Naked fear pushed me on. Our very survival was at stake.

We were deep in the lower canyon now. Huge, towering shear rock walls were on both sides. Walking was generally easier until you came to the narrowing sections were the inevitable waterfalls were found. As I approached those places my heart came up into my mouth. I was gripped by almost uncontrollable fear and apprehension. They had to run! They had to run! And they did. First one, then another and then miraculously no more. I had made it! I was going to survive. Ahead some distance on the bank at the canyon mouth, in the gathering dusk of evening was Alan impatiently waiting. The tune was roughly 6 PM.

"Water!" Water at last! Yes, blessed water. I drank 2 or 3 quarts on the spot ... maybe more. Alan was unhappy ... you could even say "pissed". "What in the hell are you doing coming out of the canyon? Don't you know, you never get yourself into these (Inyo) canyons below 5000 ft." and on and on.

I was really in no mood for that kind of dressing down, but I knew that he was right. Absolutely right. I deserved it. We had done a stupid thing and like it or not I was responsible.

I reached the others some mile or so back up canyon. The gallon of water I was carrying disappeared fast.

Later on that evening, after a luxurious shower and soak in the hot springs, an ample dinner and a generous number of ice cold beers, I was mellow again. It had been quite a day. I wouldn't trade it for the world although I can't say that I would ever want to repeat it. The feeling was that of a soldier who had somehow survived a great battle. We had dodged the "big bullet" for sure.

I was also humbled and contrite. I had learned much ... the hard way. Yes, the desert is different and desert mountaineering is certainly different from the Sierras and elsewhere.

The Ormsby's returned to Reno directly and Killer Cain busied himself with his usual Warm Springs activities. We never had a chance to get together again to recapitulate and reminisce. No doubt they knew that we had been through quite an ordeal but whether or not they ever fully realized how close to the line we had come, I'll never know. I suspect that they were blissfully ignorant and it's probably best to leave it that way. It wasn't until a year later that I caught up with Carol again. Yes, Carol and Homer survived and, in fact, had come down the heart of the canyon just as we had. Even after a year the memory of her experience was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday ... as it certainly still was with me.

According to Carol, she had stayed in the canyon the entire way - even through the section below the 2nd Power Station (which incidentally was especially difficult). She too searched in vain for the elusive trail. Unknown to us at the time, she had spent the night in the canyon almost directly below the Power Station. She could hear us, but we couldn't hear her. Unlike us, she had no rope at all. Fortunately Homer was a good climber (it helps to have "four wheel drive") and was able to manage most of the cliff down climbs on his own. Only once or twice was it necessary for Carol to use jury-rigged clothing as a "rope" assist. Also unlike us, she had enough sense to avoid the near death trap chimney above the "grand-daddy fall." She too ran out of water early and both she and her dog were mightily thirsty when they finally reached her car. She claims to have drunk a full gallon of water on the spot. Homer didn't say how much he drank. And as to her scheduled ski class, well, I understand that she was a little late.

Epilogue

In the intervening years I have had the opportunity to climb all of the major features in the Inyo Mountains, generally in the company of a hardy group known as Friends of the Inyos. In addition to the peaks we have also down-climbed all of the seven major canyons in the range. And I have returned to the "scene of the crime" in Daisy Canyon twice in search of the elusive trail. As a result of my now hard earned education, I can report the following:

• The Tramway Trail exists and is, indeed, an engineering wonder. The "missing link" was a section on the rock outcropping just below the Power Station. This portion of the trail had been chiseled into the rock wall thus skirting and by-passing the dry waterfalls below.

Access to this portion had been washed out years earlier. A couple switch backs brings it back down to the canyon floor. A short distance thereafter (far up canyon from where we entered). The trail ascends the south canyon wall in a steep, improbably couloir -- a section known to the old timers as the "Zig Zag Trail". From there it runs easily on down to the 1st Power Station and the valley below. No problem at all to follow.

• Daisy Canyon alone, of all the other major Inyo canyons, can be free climbed by someone with normal climbing skills without the need for technical equipment (i.e., ropes, slings, pitons, bolts, etc.) None of the others are free climbable.

• Alan Akin was right, "Never go into these canyons below 5000 ft." ... unless of course, you are experienced and fully prepared. They truly are death traps.