Pre-Thanksgiving Fiasco

Tuesday morning we woke up, made breakfast and headed out towards Sacramento to go and visit my “adopted sister” Dee and her husband Ron to spend Thanksgiving with them.  We headed up 395 until we hit Route 89, which goes over this pass.  It’s pretty steep.  We stopped at the juncture to have some lunch and then headed up towards the pass.  What we did not do, and should have done, was check the fluids in the truck…  (Insert foreboding music here)

Kevin turned on some music and we headed up to the pass.  About 2 miles up the truck started steaming… not a good sign.  We pulled over and there was a whining sound coming from under the hood.  We popped it open and heard the bubbling of coolant.  Uh oh.  Not good.  So we sat there and waited for the engine to cool down, put some fluids in the coolant reservoir and tried again.  Not less than a 10^th of a mile and the temperature was rising quickly.  Time to pull over again.  This time we waited longer and let the engine cool more.  Looked at it, poked at it cautiously and started it while stopped to see what would happen.  As we let it idle, we noticed that it was idling rather higher than usual.  1000 RPM’s instead of the usual 2 or 3 hundred.  Hmmmmm.  Then it started revving.  The engine started revving all by it self without either of us touching the gas pedal.  This was not a good sign.  We hung out and waited and then decided the best thing to do was to coast back down to the bottom of the hill and check in a the BLM fire station that was at the juncture where we’d had lunch not long before.  As we coasted down the hill keeping an eye on the temperature gage the engine continued to rev all on it’s own. 

We stopped in at the BLM fire station office and the gentleman inside let us know that the closest mechanic was about 13 miles away.  This seemed doable.  We called and there was no answer.  Well, the two day’s before Thanksgiving you’re not likely to find an open mechanic.  So the next place was in Gardnerville, about 30+ miles away in Nevada.  We called, got an answer, and headed off.  The engine seemed to continue to rev on it’s own when in neutral but was ok while in gear, but it started getting hot fast, so we found a good place to pull over, just over the border in Nevada and called a tow truck.  $187 later we were in Gardnerville at the mechanic.  We dropped off the truck and headed to a hotel for the night to shower and worry about the truck.

Next morning, the day before Thanksgiving, we called the mechanic and were told that Betty Truckasaurus was doing just fine.  Whew!  They told us that they put more coolant in the radiator, did a pressure check for leaks, and drove it around for 20 miles, and that it seemed fine.  We paid them $85 and headed off towards Sacramento with a stop in Lake Tahoe.  (Insert foreboding music here)

We made it up to South Lake Tahoe, parked in a recreation area and went to walk around by the lake, in snow.  We spent a good hour or so walking around and then started out of town towards Sacramento to spend our Thanksgiving with Dee and Ron.  Kevin had noticed when we were driving up to Tahoe that the truck hadn’t been responding with the normal power it usually did.  As we stopped at the “Y” to continue on 50 west away from Tahoe towards Sacramento the truck was a-shakin’ somethin’ fierce.  As we turned and drove down 50, coasting, the engine decided that it didn’t want to run anymore and shut off.  Yikes!  Thankfully there was a lovely gravel clearing that we were able to pull into.

We looked at the engine, poked at it, and made some phone calls.  We finally got in touch with a guy Ron had recommended and we met him at his garage, thankfully less than a mile away from where we had broken down.  The car started again, and as long as we were giving it gas, it wouldn’t stall, so we made it to “The Auto Shop”, a bright yellow building across the street from a campground on Melba Drive.

When we arrived at “The Auto Shop” an older man came out with a long white beard, long white hair and gnarled hands from working in the mechanic business for 30 years.  He felt around in the engine, hopped in, started the truck and revved the engine a bit and said, “Well, I could waste your time and money and do a deeper analysis, but I can tell you right now, you’ve blown a head gasket.”  He pulled out the oil dipstick and said, “Cream cheese.  Yup, you’ve got water in the engine.”  He told us that if the guy we took it to in Greenville had diagnosed it and replaced it, we’d have been ok, but since we’d driven on it, it was kaput.  He said, “I could do the head gasket for ya, replace it and spend $1,500 of your money, and in about 3,000 miles you’d have to replace the whole engine for another $3,800.” 

Wow.  What would you do?

We’d quit our jobs, packed up everything we owned and headed out on a grand adventure, and now we were in South Lake Tahoe, with snow on the ground and a dead, or mostly dead truck.  If we replaced the head gasket, we may or may not get to where we’re going; we may or may not break down in the middle of nowhere.  Not good.  If we replace the engine, we’re down $3,800 and the trip stops.  If we decide to scrap the truck and buy a new one, we’re still down 2-3 grand and the trip stops.  Kaput.  If we don’t fix it, we have $4,000 to play with, but no way to get anywhere, and no major asset to sell if we get in a bind.  The truck’s worth more alive than dead.

We called Dee.  She came and got us, and we went to her and Ron’s to stay and have Thanksgiving dinner the next day and try not to think about our truck for a day.

Thanksgiving was great, we went to Ron’s sister’s house and hung out with his sister and her husband and his parents and had lots of delicious food.  Stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans with walnuts, pie, wine, Euchre (a strange card game we learned how to play), and Trivial Persuit (we “won” sort of).

Friday was decision day.  Kevin found a rebuilt motor with 86,000 miles that would go in our truck for $850.  The Auto Shop guy told us that he’d charge $1500 to do the work, and we decided that the truck’s worth more with an engine in it than out of it, did some math and decided to fix the truck and just cut the trip a little shorter, 2-4 more months instead of 5-8.

So, we’ll be in Georgia in February instead of April, and we may not be able to take a trip to NH in January.  It just means that we probably won’t do all the things we wanted to, but we’ll still be able to do a lot of them.  It’s still a grand adventure, instead of a big bust.

We bought the engine, we picked it up, and it’s currently sitting in Dee and Ron’s trailer waiting to go to South Lake Tahoe on Monday. 

THANK YOU DEE AND RON!!!!

We’ll post more about the adventures that happened in between The Subway and now soon.  For now, know that we’re back on track and will be adventuring again soon.  Just not for as long.

Breathe.

Breathe.
 

Long.

Deep.

Don’t do anything else.

Just Breathe.

Ten or more times.

Of the last two or so weeks traveling, I think yesterday was the first time I consciously did this.  Emily and I had just finished a bouldering session at the wagon wheel boulders outside Ridgecrest, CA and left in a hurry to try to get a twilight glimpse of the Trona Pinnacles before it was totally dark.  We drove about 20 miles (5 of them on washboard dirt roads) to arrive at a spooky garden of strange protruding rocks reaching high into the starry sky.   I got out, stumbled around, went over to one of these “pinnacles” and felt the hard sharp stone.  Cool.  The pinnacles.  Check that off.  I mashed a cliff bar into my mouth as I started back to the truck.  I was about to get in and drive away when I stopped. 

           

I took a deep breath. 

Then I took another.

Up until that moment I had been too consumed with the goings on of life’s logistics and immediate needs and wants to be conscious of my breathing.  I darted from one thing to the next not stopping to enjoy or even acknowledge the fact that I was indeed breathing and could perhaps do so a bit more intentionally. 

This continues to be a theme for me originating a long time prior to the start of my travels.  I imagine this is so for many people as well.  I am so caught up in all of the constant stimulus, to-do’s, and running around that the times I do get a break (or choose to take one) I have other things to do to fill that time as well.  It can be difficult to initiate, very difficult to follow through with, but taking a break to concentrate on breathing can be refreshing and absolutely worthwhile to do. 

I challenge you.

Stop reading, close your eyes and breathe. 

Breathing is an absolute essential at any given point.  The first thing emergency responders check for, even before a pulse, is an open airway and the presence of breathing.  Unlike other vital body functions such as our hearts beating, or digestion, our breathing is both voluntary and involuntary, conscious and subconscious. 

I find that in most cases of my daily busyness, my breathing is a subconscious function.  My heart beats, my eyes blink, and I breathe.  As I get really focused or busy, maybe stressed.  I breathe short shallow breaths.  I may complete my task in a hurried way, not nearly as intentionally as I could have.  I hurry, shooting from thought to thought, thing to thing, often sloppy or forgetful.

To stop and breathe is to regain focus. 

It is to put the small series of fast moving pictures into context within the larger one.

To stop and breathe is to regain intention and deliberateness.

As an example, Em and I were climbing a few days ago.  I had led up a route that looked to be difficult but doable.  The protection points were spaced far apart enough that the potential falls would likely be significant, up to 20 or so feet.  As I climbed to and clipped the first bolt (protection point) the route required a lot of strength and precision.  It continued to be demanding as I got to the second bolt and this time a bit more laboriously clipped. 

Past the second bolt the holds seemed to get tougher to reach and tougher to stick to.  As I got to where the second bolt was about under my feet by about a yard, I felt weak and panicked.  “WATCH ME!”  I yelled to Emily on belay.  I looked around frantically for anything better to hold on to.  My breathing and heart raced.  I groped the pockets with half strong fingers and finally I yelled, “FALLING!”  and felt the rock slip away.  I fell about 15 feet to meet my wife, who had been pulled up the wall to stop me. 

I rested for a bit, studied the route, made a new attack plan, and chalked up.  Soon I was climbing again.  I made the third bolt this time.  I clipped, hung to rest and planed the next push.  The fourth bolt was significantly further apart than the first three or so it seemed.  As I got above the third bolt the cycle began again.  Fear, tired hands, panic, adrenaline, and “FALLING!” this time it would be 20ft down. 

On my next attempt I remember getting to the point of my previous downward flight, adrenaline again pumping, heart pounding and thinking “Calm down.  Breathe.”

This was the way to the top.  I was able to focus on the tiny foothold sequence I had missed the first time.  I focused on finding a good stance to clip from rather than on how bad the current one was.  I gained the top anchor by remembering that along with all the hard to hold pockets and intentional, directional footwork, breathing is a mandatory and vital piece of the climb. 

To stop and breathe is to regain focus. 

It is to put the small series of fast moving pictures into context within the larger one.

To stop and breathe is to regain intention and deliberateness.

Breathing is essential to every task large and small.  We have the choice of how consciously we incorporate it.  Breathing can be an unnoticed byproduct of our activity or it can be the complete focus of our attention. It is a free, simple and beautiful pleasure.

Stop.

Breathe. 

Long.

Deep.

Don’t do anything else.

Just Breathe.

Ten or more times.

-K

Confused by all the climbing jargon?  Learn more.

The Subway

Tuesday morning dawned bright and early as usual and Kevin and I made our way once again to the permit office in Zion to get permits for the Subway and Behunin Canyon.  When we told the ranger our plan for the Subway she looked at us like we were crazy and said, “Are you crazy?”  So we looked at some maps and decided that we should do the Subway from the bottom and park our car at the bototom.  On our way to the trailhead we changed our minds yet again and figured we try and hitchhike a ride to the top.  If we were successful by 11am then we’d do it.  If not, we’d hike it from the bottom (a hike that Kevin had done before).

Well, we got a ride by 10:30 from an older gentleman named Gary who had a lifetime of adventure that he shared with us in the 20 minutes or so it took to drive 7 miles up 2000 feet of elevation (so glad we didn’t stash bikes!)  And if anyone knows a fit woman in her 60’s who likes the outdoors and sailing, there’s a guy named Gary in UT near Zion who’s in the market.

We arrived at the trailhead and set out through a nice meadow full of tall grasses and scattered groves of tall pine trees.  We followed cairns over slick rock dotted with moki marbles through a “delightful forest” and down over red rock across Russell Gulch, over more red rock and down some steep terrain to the moth of the canyon.

We hiked for a while in the shade through a wider section of the canyon until we arrived at the triple pools. 

The first swims.  We suited up in our wetsuits and Neoprene socks, put everything else in dry bags and headed into the icy pools.  Throw pack, swim to pack, shiver, throw pack, swim to pack, shiver, throw pack, swim to pack, shiver, get the hell out of the icy water and onto the pebbly beach. 

We walked on through dry and wet sections for a while until we came to the first rappel, a small waterfall around a chock stone (a stone that’s stuck in between the two walls) into more icy pools, this time with two really narrow sections to get through.  I went first, and this was probably the hardest part of the canyon for me.  I still hadn’t quite warmed up from the triple pool swims and this section had two narrow sections that I had to swim through.  I was freaking out.  We took a moment, Kevin helped to calm me down, I focused, took some deep breaths, got a hold of myself and went for it. The whole time swimming through that section I was talking to myself, “I can do this, it’s ok, don’t panic, I can do this” to get myself through this icy pool.  And I did it, I made it through just fine.

From that point on somehow the water warmed up.  It was very bearable.  I wouldn’t want to be in it without a wetsuit, but with one, it was just dandy.  We had two more rappels to go.  The first was a short one into a warm pool about waist deep, and then the canyon opened up and started to really look like its name, a subway tunnel with no roof.  As we rounded the corner we saw it. 

The infamous LOG!  This log has its picture up in almost every major establishment surrounding the park, and even some in Zion.  It’s a log, a large log that was washed down the canyon at some point and became lodged in the subway section.  I still don’t see what’s so special about this log.  I guess it’s like Keaneau Reeves.  Some people think he’s great (though I don’t think I know any of them) and some people can’t see what’s so special about him, but hey, we all still go see his movies, so he must be doing something right.

The last rappel was awesome.  We decided to go down off this log right where the waterfall room is.  There were rope marks on the log, and it felt solid, so we set it up, and Kevin went first.  Then it was my turn, the rappel was almost in the waterfall, and came down right next to the bottom of it spraying you with warmish water the whole way down.  It was amazing.  One of those laughing, screaming, squealing, moments of pleasure. 

From there it was a hike out down these red rocks that looked like small stairs with waterfalls everywhere.  There was one bigger waterfall at the end where we stopped in the sunshine to take some pictures.  Further down the river/stream that flows out of the Subway we found a large boulder to put wet things on so they wouldn’t get coated with sand and changed out of our wetsuits into dry clothes, had a snack and went on our way.  We passed the “two large tumble-down boulders” that had Dinosaur tracks in them (way cool) and kept hiking further. 

To make a long story short, and to not bore you all to tears, we got lost.  We hiked up a steep slope through prickly brambles and bushes, up a line of talus made of basalt (volcanic rock) and climbed up onto what we thought was the “mesa top” we were supposed to be on.  Turns out we had started up much too soon and we were on a small mesa before the first of the two “streams” we were supposed to pass on the main trail.  It was dark, but not too cold, we were dry with extra layers but running out of water so we headed north and found a way down into a wash that would hook us up with the main trail. When we first came down into the wash it was mostly basalt rocks everywhere and Kevin found a tarantula…yikes! 

We hiked for about 2 ½ hours back to the main trail without too much trouble and found water along the way to refill our empty bladders (the plastic ones, not our actual bladders), snacked on an apple, and breathed a sigh of relief when we saw the trail again. 

A note to all:  When the guidebook says, “Do not begin the climb up without finding the trail.” It is wise to heed this advice.

We found the exit and made it back to the truck without any further mishap relieved and weary it was about 10:30pm.  We drank water, ate some more snacks and our feet thanked us for taking off our wet shoes and neoprene socks and putting them into dry crocs. 

This story was brought to you by maps, compasses and headlamps.

After a night like that we decided not to do Behunin the next day. We’ll just have to go back to Zion some day.

Mystery Canyon

Early Sunday morning we went to the permit office to get a permit to do Mystery Canyon.  We spent the rest of Sunday as an “organizational day” which was comprised of dumping out everything in the cab of the truck and then getting distracted by slacklining, eating, playing guitar, cooking and trips to the “bathroom” some bushes and grasses away from the river with a mine field of toilet paper and surface turds.  Lovely. 

 

I did well slacklining, I got four steps on it twice!  I’m improving for sure and soon Kevin and I will be a circus of slacklining and hula hooping.  Once I master the slackline my plan is to be able to hula hoop on it!

We also organized our gear for the next day’s adventure.

Monday morning we woke up quite early and sleepily put away our sleeping bags, wolfed down some breakfast and set out for the day.  A 3.8mile hike up 2000 feet of elevation with spectacular views of the park (Zion National Park) and the canyons below and we made it to the point of Mystery Canyon.  

A stop for lunch was in order as the next leg of our hike, the beginning of our descent into the canyon, is known as “Death Gully”.  When we did this canyon about a year ago with Kevin’s cousin David we barreled down the death scree (small loose rocks and dirt) through bushes, hanging onto them to slow our descent.  This time,  I found the “trail”, and I use the word “trail” loosely, for while it’s a fairly well established trail, it winds its way down through some pretty rough terrain.  

A long descent through the start of the wash, lots of down climbs and a short rappel brought us to the first major rappel, the “point of no return” if you will.  A rappel that one cannot climb back up after the rope is pulled without some serious risk if a fall should happen.  And then the fun begins!

Narrow canyon walls curved gracefully around and down carved by mother natures hand leading us further and further down the 2000 feet we had hiked up in the beginning of our day.  6 rappels in quick succession, some scrambling and down climbing and the canyon opened up for us.  We hiked along and past the thankfully dry lakebed up a giant pile of rocks and debris and then down the other side.  

One more rappel and we were rewarded with more of the beautiful carving walls.  And then an icky muck pool we had to stem over (hands on one side of the “hallway” feet on the other, and don’t let go or you’ll be in the muck!  Yuck!) and then we arrived at Mystery Spring and the second to last rappel.

This is where we paused a moment here to put on wet suits and started to feel like superheroes! (it was the wetsuits)  

Kevin set up the rappel, 110 feet down into an icy pool.  To get out to the rappel I hooked in to the safety line, a line of webbing, to walk over to the rappel.  The walk out was pretty exposed, and 110 feet is pretty imposing.  The first time I did Mystery Canyon, this part freaked me out. This time, it was still scary, but manageable.  I went first down this one, down to a rock to get the rope out of the muck pool behind a huge rock, and then down into the spring fed pool in front of the huge rock.  And it was ICY COLD!  (FYI: I do NOT like cold, not one little tiny bit.  Maybe on my fingertips after a long climbing session, but that’s it)  I was in the water for maybe a minute and a half, and that was plenty long.  The last time we did this, David guided me over the pool and I didn’t have to get soaked.

The area where the pool is located is gorgeous.  There’s a nice little beach and beautiful hanging gardens all over the walls.  Once Kevin came down and pulled the rope (he didn’t mind the cold water at all, he even went back in it) we scrambled on following the stream to my favorite rappel.  Of all the rappels I’ve done in my life so far, this one has been the best.  It’s what in my opinion, makes Mystery Canyon a “classic”.  120 feet down a small waterfall in to the Narrows.  Stunning, fun, amazing, exhilarating.

There was a guy at the bottom taking pictures and he said he got some great shots of both of us coming down the waterfall.  I have his e-mail, so we’ll be sure to post those when we get them.

We hiked down the cold narrows to the paved trail staying out of the water as much as is possible when you’re hiking a trail that’s in a river (lot’s of “baby shark” songs and dances to keep warm).  Once we hit the paved trail we started jogging to get warm.  Near the end of the trail we saw 4 deer near the trail eating by the riverbank.  One was a cute baby deer!  We decided that it was best to just stay in our wetsuits with harnesses and helmets on, so we rode our bikes in our canyoneering getup down to the Weeping Rock trailhead where we had begun early that morning.  Quickly we changed into dry clothes and cooked up some pasta with veggies.  Yum yum!

LIVE SIMPLY

Over the last week my wife and I have been living out of a truck, then a backpack, then a truck again. The time spent backpacking we spent no money. We ate food we had already bought, and burned fuel we had from before to cook the food. True, we paid for these things earlier and it cost us money to get to this place where we backpacked, but on those days living out of our packs we spent no money. Coincidently, those were the days of the last week when I enjoyed life the most.

This is the graphic on the T-Shirt I’ve been wearing for the last few days. Emily and I were at Mystic Hot Springs the other day and (Mystic) Mike asked about it. What does it mean? An open cage and the words live simply? We discussed it for a while then and I’ve been thinking about it for the last few days. And more still…

I start off thinking about our old apartment filled to capacity with all the stuff that also later filled a storage unit. I think about myself and Em working so hard to keep up with bills, rent, phones, internet, going out to eat, new stuff we needed or thought we needed, credit card interest, storage fees, college loans… all the things to pay for.

We have bills because of the life we live. We eat, rent, go to the doctor, have insurance on expensive items and ourselves. We buy stuff and subsequently have to pay for a place to keep all our stuff and in some cases, cases for our stuff. We live expensive lives. And so we work. Sometimes we consume so much and work so much that we are trapped in a cycle (or cage if you will).

To me LIVE SIMPLY is meaning more and more, reduction in consumption/expenses equals a reduction in work necessary to sustain life style. The result is more free time. Of all the time I spend, working, sleeping, doing taxes, eating, whatever, I value my free time the most.

Free time is the time I take the most pictures. The time I laugh the most. The time I see and do new things. I climb, hike, love, cook, swim, bike, make music, draw, journal, slackline, travel, and create more in my free time. This is the time when I am most happy. This is when I am FREE to live.

Of course, as with everything, there is a balance. At the moment of this writing I am coming off a period of my life where I worked much more than I had free time. I currently only have free time. Ideally I will be able to work and consume and also have ample free time. All three of these things are necessary. Live Simply is a command to strive for a better balance between them.

Strive to spend less, work less, have less. Enjoy more time. Live Simply.

I did purchase today my first pair of Neoprene (wetsuit material) socks for $22 as well as other supplies to lower myself on a rope hundreds of feet down cold, wet, dirty canyons so naturally I am open to other interpretations of Live Simply as well.

Cheers!
Kevin

Robbers Roost - Emily's version

Today is a rest day. A real rest day. Yesterday was kind of a rest day, but we drove from Angel Point to Saint George, so not really.

Robbers Roost was spectacular. I had fun pretty much the whole time. There were no traumatic experiences, no extreme cold, and plenty of beautiful views. All in all, a wonderful 4 days in the backcountry. The first part of the first day on Monday was pretty boring. We hiked a road and then a jeep trail and then over rocks and hills to the mouth of the canyon and “Robbers Roost Spring”. Then things got interesting.

A short rappel (my first rappel using a webbing harness) dropped us into the slot, and from there, gorgeous! Sloping walls and twisting almost tunnels led us through the slot. Let me just say that you can’t be obese and canyoneer or you just might get stuck in the middle of nowhere. There were lots of down climbs and scrambles, plenty of places where the canyon pushed you sideways and many times where my boots were too wide for the watercourse. The last rappel of the first day dropped us down under a cottonwood tree in an open area where we set up camp for the night.






The second day Tuesday, was a hike with only one rappel that went right into an icy cold pool. We lowered our packs down and I sacrificed my feet to the pool for dry bags and boots. It reminded me of the ice baths we used to give our shins when I was on the track team in high school, that pins and needles feeling as the icy water sucks all the warmth out of your feet.


That night we had pretty much the best campsite ever. As we hiked along looking for a place that had warmth and water we came upon a part of the watercourse that had frost on all the leaves on the ground. The sun wasn’t shining in the canyon anymore but we still had light and it didn’t feel that cold, but there the frost was. There was a cliff area up a little way at the mouth of a small side canyon. We climbed up there and the temperature difference was incredible! Maybe 10 degrees difference! When Kevin went back down to get water from the pools he said he had to throw a rock through the ice to get any water. The next morning Wednesday, the sun rose and hit us pretty early warming up the already warm cliff.

SIDE NOTE: If you have a really sweet mat that you have to blow up with air somehow and the sun rises on it and gets it all warm the air inside it expands and tends to deform your mat. Yes, that’s what happened to me.

We had a slow easy Wednesday morning, ate breakfast, took showers (yes we took showers.  Bladder showers.  The breeze was a bit cool, but the sun and the water were warm) packed up and headed down to fill up our water at the ice pool. That day we crossed the Dirty Devil. It’s dirty and devilish and definitely COLD! And it’s muddy, the bottom feels like quicksand! Then we hiked the rest of the way to Angel Cove where Angel Spring is, lots of water, an established campsite, and lots of destruction by the last people who were there with horses. Those who came before us cut down branches; their horses ate up a ton of grass on the side of the spring, and generally they made a mess of the place.So, to all of you reading this out there who might end up taking a trip into the backcountry, learn about Leave No Trace and do so. Leave the beautiful wilderness as you have found it, or even better by picking up any trash you see and packing it out. “Pack it in, pack it out.”

Thursday was supposed to be a rest day. Instead of resting, we hiked up and around to the top of Angel Cove and rock hounded a bit. We walked over big sandstone domes and tried to avoid stepping on and destroying the crypto biotic soil that is EVERYWHERE in the desert. After finding some amazing rocks we headed towards one of two side canyons Kevin had seen earlier and wanted to explore. The first one we headed into was interesting. We got to a point where we couldn’t go up anymore without ropes and harness’ so we pulled out some snacks and walked around on this big dome of sandstone taking pictures and looking at the amazing landscape around us. The second side canyon was AWESOME! We climbed, scrambled and stemmed up and around the twisty watercourse until Kevin stemmed up to a small pothole with a baby rattler in it. That’ll stop ya.

So out we went and hiked back to Angel Cove for some food and to finish packing up. Kevin cleaned up some lovely trash that someone had left behind (gross!) and off we went hiking through Mars to Angel Point. Seriously, the hike looked like Mars.

First we had to cross the Dirty Devil again. Once again, cold and muddy. And then we hiked through Mars. Giant domes of sandstone rock we hiked over and up and over and up following cairns as best we could and using the map a lot. Through small valleys and switch backing up a rocky pass we made it up to Angel Point by the time dusk had really set in. We dropped our packs, grabbed some bars and headed for a 6 mile night hike to the truck. Walking at night on a dirt road with the sky above clear as can be, we could see the soft cloud of the milky way arm. There were so many stars above us, we saw shooting stars and watched the moon rise from orange to white. It felt like the road went on forever, and when we finally arrived at the truck relief set in. We didn’t have to walk anymore and could take off our boots! 6 miles in 2 hours. Go us!

We drove back to the point, inhaled some pasta and passed out bundled in our bags in the truck protected from the wind.

Friday morning we rose to have breakfast, and pack up to head to St George.

So here we are. We made it to St George last night. A trip of reading about amazing canyons in Zion, and listening to music while driving in 3rd gear up steep hills. It’s Saturday and today has been filled with errands and blogging and checking e-mail etc. Tonight we head to Springdale to wake up with the sun and get permits for canyons, Mystery, The Subway, and Behunin. Wish us luck! We’ll post more when we can!

The View From My Bathroom

The view from my bathroom today is a vast expanse of desert.
Snow capped mountains in the distance.
This morning my kitchen is next to a giant crack in the earth.
Tonight my kitchen is under a cottonwood tree in the moonlight.
The view from my bedroom is spectacular.
The moon peeks through the branches,
The stars sparkle overhead
And as I look over
I see the canyon walls cutting black against the midnight blue sky
This is canyoneering.

-Emily