|Yeah, it's a crap photo but you get the idea.|
I just realized I never posted about my Easter weekend in April. APRIL! And it’s now JUNE! I have the short term memory of a sieve. That’s been dipped in some sort of corrosive agency. And then left outside to be drenched by acid rain. Which makes for some pretty shoddy memories if I don’t get them down within a reasonable amount of time.
So. Easter weekend had the potential for greatness. We decided to head for Moab where I would finally FINALLY get to wear my flip flops and tank tops in the warm, red desert. I was stoked.
Thinking we could outsmart the rookies, I left work an hour early to avoid rush hour traffic. Apparently only the rookies give themselves a mere hour head start. The freeways were already congested with trucks and trailers lugging their ATV’s, mountain bikes and whaling boats.
“That’s okay” we told ourselves. It’s bound to thin out once we get out of the city.
Two hours later it hadn’t thinned out. What the hell? It’s Easter weekend. Shouldn’t these people be home celebrating the very reason for Easter with their families? Has the entire nation forgotten what the purpose is? Has anyone even heard of the Bible? It’s very clearly stated in the New Testament, that after Christ rose from the tomb, the masses rejoiced and immediately returned to their homes where much coloring of eggs and getting their children all hopped up on jelly beans and chocolate bunnies commenced. Go back to your homes people!
And then it dawned on me. Easter weekend. Moab. Happens every year. The Moab Easter Jeep Safari. All of these assholes were headed to the very place we were going to get away from all these assholes!
I went a couple of times in my early 20’s and it was an absolute blast. But that was my early 20’s! Over a decade ago! I’m older, my priorities have changed but most of all I’m grumpy and don’t like people. Especially drunk people in their 20’s tooling around the desert in their jacked up jeeps blaring Bob Marley.
Not a deal. We’ll detour over to Bryce Canyon and it will be just as beautiful and serene as we were hoping for.
And it was.
We got there before dark and decided to drive through the park. There were sweet little deer everywhere! One of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen was a Doe with her little baby Bambi licking his ear and head. The desire to bail out of the truck to go snuggle them both was strong, but the thought of me with Mama Deer hoof prints embedded in my forehead held me back. I don’t have the facial bone structure necessary to pull off hoof prints. Besides…they’re sooo 2009.
We found a camp site and set up shop. Chopped firewood, dinner, drinks, then off to bed with the anticipation of tomorrows adventures in mind. Specifically looking forward to enjoying tomorrows adventures while clad in sleeveless shirts and footwear that don't suffocate my winter weary toes. They need their freedom without the threat of frostbite!
But alas. Once again, it was not to be.
I woke up shivering and grudgingly struggled into my winter hoody…on top of three long sleeved shirts. That’s cool, at least I can still wear my flip flops. Sure it’s a little, okay, really cold, but my little piggy’s haven’t seen the light of day since September of last year. It’s time dammit!
We decided to start the day at Sunrise Point and head down into the Queen’s Garden trail as it’s the least difficult and I really need to ease myself into these things. This was my first trip to Bryce and the view was spectacular. A giant red garden of hoodoos that went for miles. As amazing as this was, it got even better once we actually got down into the canyon.
Well…with one exception. Once on the trail, it was clear my Tevas weren’t going to cut it. Even my old friend Denial wasn't gonna get me through this one.With all the rain the park had been getting, the trails were one big, slippery, muddy pig pen.
It slowed us down quite a bit and I nearly lost my shoe in the quicksand substance but it made it all the more fun.
We were passing a Father with his 4 year old son who was posing by a sign for a picture.
Dad: “Okay, ready? What do you say?”
4 yr old: “Who’s your Daddy?”
*Click* And the legacy lives on.
A little further down the trail E2 had set up his tripod and was waiting in his usual obsessively compulsive way for the light to hit just the right angle on a particular rock formation when an odd little trio come sludging and trudging up behind us. Two overweight, middle aged women with a pudgy, 12 (?) year old boy in tow. They come sliding to a stop, take an unimpressed look around and the older of the two women asks, “Sooooo, what else do they have here besides rocks and tourists taking pictures”?
E2 and I look at each other and do our best to hide our smirks and eye rolling. Maybe just stick with your state fair next time mmkay?
|Why, yes, yes I am a sexy camping beast. Thank you for noticing.|
|Nature loving hippie.|
|The Europeans LOVED me. Shut up!!|