The trail dropped down towards the canyon bottom now, giving us a chance to use another set of leg muscles for a while. Near the end of our descent I spotted a pile of rock off to one side of the trail. "Looks like a good spot for klauberi," I said offhandedly, and as we reached the pile a Rock Rattler slithered from on top of the pile into the jumble of rocks, out of reach and out of sight.

We blew it! We weren't prepared and the snake saw us first. My collapsible snake hook was still in my pack, and we had no time to grab a stick or break out a camera. We weren't about to tear up the landscape to extract the snake, so once again we were left holding the bag. At least this time, the other guys caught a glimpse of the critter.

Third time's a charm, as the saying goes. Not fifty feet further down the trail I spotted another little rattlesnake, crawling towards a rock fissure. I grabbed a branch and lifted the tiny critter away from its hidey-hole and down to the trail. Finally we had a Banded Rock Rattler!

This one was a youngster, with a few rattle segments and a tail fading from the bright yellow that neonates sport. Once installed under a small plant saucer for a bit, the snake calmed down and let us shoot some pictures. The Banded Rock Rattler was a life-list animal for all three of us. My preconceptions about this snake were misconceptions; I had figured that talus slides and big rock formations were the habitat of choice. The surroundings where this snake and the one before it were found didn't quite match my mind's eye - rocky, yes, but there was also plenty of vegetation as well. We put the little rattler back at the point of capture and it quickly slithered into a deep crevice.

We continued up the trail as clouds built up overhead. Here and there we came across discarded backpacks, trash bags, clothing and empty food tins - the cast-off detritus of Mexicans making their way into the United States. I was upset to see all of this trash scattered about this beautiful place, but at the same time I realized that it was a part of a terrible struggle people were undertaking to have the kind of life I do. Dirt-poor people don't hike up into the mountains for their own amusement.