With skies out of a Dutch landscape, we continued along the flat bench beneath Octagon Butte. The shadows got darker and the air much colder. As we reached the chute that was to be our path down, the skies opened up and hail began to fall. Almost immediately, it turned to rain as we hurried down the now wet slickrock. As if on cue, as the last of us reached safety down below, the sun burst forth again like a Cecil B. DeMille version of a Biblical epic.
			Back		Tour