KNOT TO BE MISSED GETTING TO THE BOTTOM OF UTAH'S BEAUTY.

Byline: Story and photos by Bill Becher Correspondent

SPRINGDALE, Utah - A few weeks before my canyoneering class in Utah, I received a box in the mail from Zion Adventure Co. containing rope and a video illustrating the eight knots I needed to learn. My life - quite literally - would depend on these knots.

The red-rock canyons around Zion National Park, in the southwest corner of Utah, are spectacular. Colorful layers of Navajo sandstone have been carved by wind and water into wild natural sculptures: arches, spires, balancing rocks, pools, keyholes and slots. But many of these geologic oddities were inaccessible until adventurers applied rock-climbing techniques - and the modern sport of canyoneering was born.

A three-day course in this relatively unknown sport employs ropes and rappel techniques to enable participants to explore these canyon wonderlands. The classes are held near but not in the national park.

``Our goal is to take an extreme game and turn it into an experience of a lifetime for everyone,'' said Jonathan Zambella, co-owner of the Zion Adventure Co. Zambella served as guide and instructor for our group of five - three men, two women.

Using ropes and rappel gear, we'd follow the rushing water to places few have gone. In some spots we'd descend through waterfalls and land in pools of icy water.

Wearing dry suits sealed at the neck, arms and ankles by rubber gaskets, we looked like members of a toxic spill cleanup team, but the suits and fleece underwear kept us comfortable in the frigid snowmelt.

Canyoneering is like rock climbing with water hazards, except instead of climbing up, we started at the top and worked our way down.

We hiked and scrambled along the water course until we came to a cliff, where we learned to set up an anchor using a big tree or boulder for the rappel, or ``rap.''

After attaching the rope to the anchor, we tossed it over the side doubled or with a smaller retrieve rope attached - so we could get the rope back once we reached the bottom.

Next we attached the rope to our rappel devices. These are metal gizmos that allowed us to control our descent by applying different amounts of friction.

Then it was the moment of truth: time to walk over the cliff backward.

We started on the first day with short, easy raps, working up to a 200-foot descent. You get a pretty good adrenalin buzz if you haven't done this before, but soon the other students and I got comfortable with the procedures and began to trust the equipment.

Only then could we enjoy the views while suspended 150 feet up a sheer canyon wall.

In rock climbing, the gear is backup protection in case you fall. In canyoneering, the gear is the only thing between you and disaster. For this reason Zambella is constantly preaching safety and patience.

Zion Adventure Co. supplies the dry suits, 200-foot ropes, specialized shoes that stick on the wet rocks we were clambering over, helmets, dry bags, packs, climbing harnesses - altogether about $1,000 worth of gear per student.

Zambella's teaching method is a bit of a Zen master-student thing. He told us that he wouldn't be there when we went off on our own, so we'd have to learn to think for ourselves. If we were 25 seconds from disaster, Zambella said he would wait until the 24th second before he stepped in.

It was a bit disconcerting at first, but his method was sound.

On our last day we were hiking toward a canyon when Zambella stopped and listened to the sound of rushing water.

``We're going to have fun today,'' our guide said, a grin splitting his face.

Splashing down a streambed to avoid disturbing stream-side vegetation, we soon were looking down into a narrow canyon hundreds of feet deep. Canyoneering ethics demanded we leave little or no trace of our passage.

First we set up a rope that we'd use to ascend out of the canyon. Then we took turns setting up the anchors and making several rappels following the water. Our lunch break was on a ledge with a spectacular view.

After lunch it was my turn to set up the anchor and tie the knots. It's one thing to practice a knot in your family room in front of a TV, quite another to tie a double fisherman's knot to join two ropes for a rappel, knowing that your life and your companions' lives will depend on its integrity.

Sure, I wanted to enjoy the sights, but my primary goal was much simpler: not becoming a human lawn dart.

The knot held. We came to a spot where the water swirled down a curved trough, like a water slide. We were wondering where we were going to set up the next rope anchor when Zambella told us to just hop in and slide down.

We did just that, landing in the pool at the bottom with a big splash.

As promised, we were having fun today!

IF YOU GO

Zion Adventure Co. in Springdale, Utah, offers canyoneering clinics of varying durations: half-day ($99), full-day ($149) and three-day ($495). If you want a nontechnical (no ropes or rappels) adventure, you can rent shoes, dry suits and hiking staffs and explore the Narrows - the famous slot canyon in Zion National Park. Guided rock climbing is available, too. Information and reservations: [phone]; www.zionadventures.com.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos, box

Photo:

(1) A woman rappels into a ``slot canyon'' near Zion, Utah, during a three-day canyoneering class. Participants receive a package to practice knot-tying at home weeks before the excursion.

(2) Jonathan Zambella, co-owner of Zion Adventure Co., demonstrates proper descending technique.

Bill Becher/Correspondent

Box:

IF YOU GO (see text)