Having been enjoying hiking in the desert, I decided to take Skipper, our mini-labradoodle, for a hike in Lake Mead National Recreation Area’s Owl Canyon one afternoon last week.  We parked in the lot with three other cars off 33 Hole Road and descended into the canyon by the trailhead sign just after one couple completed their ascent (leaving two cars in the lot with ours).  Pro Tip:  If you ever hike Owl Canyon, be sure to keep to the left when you get down into the canyon.  We walked in the wrong direction first and ended up needing to turn around. 

We were on a pretty good clip, enjoying the mountain views when I thought I saw something behind us.  I looked back to see a coyote walking in the scrub where we had just passed.  We continued on the path, with me looking back every few seconds.  The coyote, now on the path where we had just walked, seemed to be following us.

I dug into the emotional toolbag developed to address my anxieties and asked myself, “Am I safe right here right now?”  I’ve almost always been able to respond, “Yes.”  Now, here I was exclaiming a resounding and fearful, “Hell, no!”  as Skipper and I advanced into the slot canyon. 

I could no longer see the coyote, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, right?  My mind went to dark places as I began considering that I had no cell signal, a clueless thirty-pound fur baby, and by now (I was certain) a pack of coyotes who knew the canyon better than I did and, I imagined, would surround us soon. 

The NPS’s park guide lists the trail as 2.2 miles out and back, but the All Trails hiking app listed it as a 3.9-mile loop.  I didn’t know how long I’d been walking, but I had to be near the end of the out and back trail. I just couldn’t imagine turning back around and facing the coyote.  We would soldier on to complete the loop.

With the late afternoon sun, blinding me occasionally, we continued further through the slot canyon.  There was noise ahead.  “Holy crap! Here they come!” I thought.  And then came relief as two humans and two big dogs in tow came into view.  Skipper and I stepped aside to let them pass as their dogs didn’t seem to be super friendly or easy to manage. 

“How much further to the end of the loop?” I asked as they moved past us. 

When they replied that it was another 90 minutes plus to complete the loop, I considered our options.  And it didn’t take long for me to decide that Skipper and I would be safest, right here right now, just behind the others.  We would retreat in the shadow of the others, keeping a watchful eye out for any coyote and leaving enough room between us to prevent their dogs from being bothered by us.

And so we turned around, slowing our pace when we threatened to catch up to them — using those moments of slower pace to appreciate the beauty that surrounded us and vowing to research what to do when faced with this situation in the future. 

Here’s what I learned:

• I shouldn’t have picked up Skipper’s poop to carry out with us at the start of our hike.  It may have attracted the coyote to us.  In the future, I will either bury it, triple bag it, or leave it at a spot where I can pick it up on our way out.
• Coyotes often shadow humans passing through an area to ensure that you don’t disturb their dens.  I should not have turned my back on the coyote once I saw it but should have backed away and waited for it to retreat as well.
• If a coyote approaches, you should make yourself as big as possible by waving arms, making noise, throwing things like rocks or clumps of earth (not necessarily at it but near it).
• Bear spray can work on coyotes.
• Tapping hiking sticks together makes a noise that may deter coyotes.

I vow for future less-traveled hikes to:

• Carry twice as much water as needed in case I need to walk the long way back to safety.
• Carry the bear spray I bought even if there’s no threat of bears.
• Continue to keep Skipper on a six-foot leash as he was that day. As tempting as it is to walk Skipper off-leash on trails like this, having him on a short six-foot leash is safest.  Then, if needed, I could pull him to me quickly and pick him up.  Experts do not recommend retractable leashes as you have less control over reeling in your dog.
• Continue to be aware of my surroundings for any future encounter with wildlife.

Immediately after the hike, I convinced myself that it was the last time that I would hike alone.  But after researching about safety and the likelihood of being attacked and, especially after seeing my pictures of the beautiful slot canyon, I know that I’ll be back out there soon.  And I will be better prepared and as safe as I need to be right there right then.