There is a way in which canyoneering is beautiful — the body pressed, held by the earth as you slide through something not dissimilar to a birth canal. Your shoulders and hips wedge as you inch your way between the walls which threaten to either press you flat, trapping your body forever between the stone, or conversely, drop you down a great chasm that opens with such speed and force you have to wish, at least a little, that you were more liquid than solid.