The slot canyon sections of Blue John are, in places, around three feet wide. The walls rise high enough to limit the sky to a narrow strip of light far above. The interior is cool compared to the exposed desert above. It is also, in the event of emergency, profoundly inhospitable to any form of external intervention. A helicopter cannot descend into a slot canyon. A search team on foot moves slowly through terrain designed, by its very geology, to impede movement. And without an itinerary on file somewhere — without someone who knows where you are going and when you expect to return — the process of finding you, should something go wrong, begins from a starting point of complete uncertainty.
Ralston knew this canyon. He had experience with technical desert terrain. He knew the rules about leaving word of your route, and he knew that he had not followed them on that particular Saturday in April.
## Saturday, April 26, 2003: The Beginning
Aron Ralston parked his truck near the Horseshoe Canyon trailhead on the evening of Friday, April 25, 2003, and slept in the truck bed. The next morning — Saturday, April 26 — he began the approach to Blue John Canyon. He biked approximately fifteen miles along the Maze-Robbers Roost Road, then locked his bicycle to a juniper tree and continued on foot.
He had with him approximately one liter of water, two burritos, and some fragments of candy bar. The provisions were appropriate for a day trip in terrain he planned to move through quickly. He had the technical equipment needed for canyoneering — rope, a harness, a headlamp, his multi-tool — and the experience to use it. What he did not have was a backup plan in the event that the trip took longer than expected, because he had not anticipated the trip taking longer than expected. He had not left an itinerary with anyone.