...I may have sent those to him. (Hey, four pirate patches and earrings for a buck? Who can resist that??!!).
5 months ago
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Pirate District
...I may have sent those to him. (Hey, four pirate patches and earrings for a buck? Who can resist that??!!).
Monday, July 6, 2009
America the Beautiful (or how to survive a flash flood in a slot canyon).
"The earth teaches us more about ourselves than all the books.
Because it resists us. Man discovers himself when he measures
himself against the obstacle" - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I've celebrated some pretty cool Fourths of July in my day, but this one probably takes the cake. A few months ago I was reading through my newest National Geographic Adventure magazine and came across an article entitled, "50 Best American Adventures". Most of them were out of my current reach (like Kayaking the Na Pali coast in Hawaii), but number fifteen on the list caught my eye: Hike Buckskin Gulch: Arizona/Utah. The description was brief but left me with an unquenchable desire to tackle this the longest (and possibly deepest) slot canyon in the world that I had just discovered lay right in my backyard.
When one of my all time favorite people, Erin Virginia Thornhill, wrote me to say that she wanted to go camping over July 4th weekend, the Buckskin Gulch immediately popped into my mind. I did a little homework on Google and discovered that it was almost exactly between Provo, UT (where I currently reside) and Mesa, AZ, where Erin lives. I suggested the hike, and Erin jumped on board. We started recruiting, and I started researching like crazy. I read blogs, the BLM website, talked to rangers, and checked out a guide book about the area from the local library. I was stoked. We bought 7 overnight permits, without knowing exactly who was going to fill those 7 spots, and decided to do half of the hike one day, and half the next day.
Slowly, our numbers grew, and we spent a few weeks planning out the details. The only concern I really had was flash flooding. I made it really clear to everyone that if there was even a hint of rain in the forecast, that we'd cancel the hike and do something else (there's PLENTY of other stuff to do in the area, but I had my heart set on this hike). As we got closer to the weekend, the forecast didn't look too promising. There was a 30% chance of rain both days with scattered storms in the evenings. Knowing that, we probably shouldn't have gone, BUT (a) the day before the hike there was a flash flood warning until 8 pm - it didn't flash flood on that day, by the way - and the air mass was supposed to dry up Friday and Saturday, so there was no warning for the two days we were hiking, and (b) the sky was absolutely beautiful and cloudless when we woke up Friday morning.
We checked in at the ranger station, and the ranger said the weather looked OK, but not great. He said that from the time that you hear a flash flood, until the time it arrives, you have about 3 seconds. So, really, if you're in the canyon, you shouldn't worry about it too much, because there's absolutely nothing you can do if one does show up. He also said that most flash floods in the canyon we'd be climbing in come as drainage from Bryce Canyon. They take about 10 hours to arrive, and usually show up after midnight.
We set out hiking from Wire Pass and went through some gorgeous narrows. There were a few small rock falls that we had to scramble down and hand our packs over to each other. After a mile and a half or so we met up with the Buckskin Gulch. From that point on we were really in the canyon. I had assumed that we would hike for about 10 miles before hitting the campgrounds and the confluence where the Buckskin Gulch meets the Paria river, but I underestimated the distance. We hiked 12-14 miles that first day, which left us a much shorter 6-7 miles trip for day two. That first day was beautiful. The giant red rock cliffs were absolutely amazing, and so varied and different as each mile passed. There were some fun obstacles including several very muddy, stagnate pools of water we had to wade through. By the end of the day, though, we were exhausted. It wasn't until evening that we realized that we had more than 10 miles to cover that day, and our packs were getting pretty heavy, but we kept at it and finally arrived at the confluence. There were some great camps several feet of the canyon floor (a necessary precaution to protect yourself from flash floods during the night), but there were some other campers there that made us kind of uncomfortable, so we decided to continue on a little ways and see what else there was.
We found a sandy embankment with a few feet of elevation and called it good. We threw our stuff on the ground, relieved, and rested for a few seconds before setting up camp and getting things ready for dinner before dark. The Paria "River" as it turned out, was nothing more than a trickle, rolling over the stony floor of the canyon, barely deep and wide enough for us to pump a bit of water from to cook our dinner with.
We feasted on Spanish rice and dehydrated Black beans, sang a few songs to the backpacking guitar, and crashed hard in our tents. It was so warm we didn't even climb in our sleeping bags. We just laid on top and tried to sleep in the heat.
After a couple hours of twisting and turning and sleeping off and on, I awoke to the sound water. My first thought was that it must be rain, as there had been a chance of rain in the forecast, but because of the heat we had left our rain flies off our tents, and I didn't feel any water coming in. Then, still coming out of a dream-like state, I realized that what I was hearing didn't sound anything like rain. It was roaring. I sat up, and immediately knew that we were experiencing a flash flood. I saw three of my friends standing at the edge of our little embankment. I jumped out of my tent and went to see exactly what had happened. The trickling stream from the night before had become a raging 20-30 foot wide river, filling the whole canyon with muddy, dark water. We watched the water level rise, and then finally start to descend, and when we felt sure that we were safe for the night, we crawled back into bed, knowing that we were stuck on our little island, but also knowing that there was nothing we could do about it until morning.
In the morning the river was significantly lower, but still coming strong. We stuck some sticks in the sand at the water line and decided to wait until lunch time to see if the water went down at all. I hiked upstream a bit and confirmed that the river was indeed coming out of the canyon that was to be our exit route, and even without my heavy pack I had a hard time maintaining my balance in some of the strong currents and muddy floors. We made breakfast, cleaned up camp, and when it became evident that the water was not descending as quickly as we had hoped, we decided to leave as soon as possible, not wanting to get stuck in the canyon a second night with the possibility of a second flood. We ate an early lunch, prayed together, and set off, packs and all, against the current, in knee to waist deep muddy water up the canyon.
The first few hours were quite somber. 6-7 miles of upstream wading seemed nearly impossible. We came across several small embankments that allowed temporary relief from the current, but were also very muddy. We would sometimes sink up to our knees or mid-thighs and have to help each other out. The one glimmer of hope came from the campers we had met the night before. They had started a few hours ahead of us. We saw their footprints in the muddy areas, which helped us find the less-muddy paths, and they began to write the date in the mud with the time that they had arrived at each new area. We compared their progress with ours and knew that we were doing just fine. After a couple very slow miles, the canyon began to open up, the walls lowered, the water became gradually more shallow, and the land drier.
Our attitudes did a 180. It still wasn't easy, but we were getting better at finding the best places to cross the water, and there was finally a better land to water ratio, giving our legs some much needed breaks. On the land we would go as quickly as possible, and in the water we grew more and more confident.
Finally, we arrived in a complete desert. It was HOT, and we were so happy. We made good time across long stretches of sand and beating sun, with the occasional river crossing. When we had started trekking just before noon, we were sure we would be at it until 8pm or so. At 4:05, I saw the latrines at the White House trailhead sticking up out of the sand. I let out a yelp, and we all, blistered, muddy, exhausted, and relieved, took off running up the small hill to the parking lot where we had left two of our cars.
It was an awesome hike and a great adventure. It was much harder and much cooler than we could have anticipated. We headed into town that night elated. We showered, ate dinner at a fantastic Mexican restaurant (we were the only Americans in the place), and even caught a few fireworks while sitting in the back of John's truck.
God bless America.
(Below are some pictures, for the whole album, click here)
Because it resists us. Man discovers himself when he measures
himself against the obstacle" - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I've celebrated some pretty cool Fourths of July in my day, but this one probably takes the cake. A few months ago I was reading through my newest National Geographic Adventure magazine and came across an article entitled, "50 Best American Adventures". Most of them were out of my current reach (like Kayaking the Na Pali coast in Hawaii), but number fifteen on the list caught my eye: Hike Buckskin Gulch: Arizona/Utah. The description was brief but left me with an unquenchable desire to tackle this the longest (and possibly deepest) slot canyon in the world that I had just discovered lay right in my backyard.
When one of my all time favorite people, Erin Virginia Thornhill, wrote me to say that she wanted to go camping over July 4th weekend, the Buckskin Gulch immediately popped into my mind. I did a little homework on Google and discovered that it was almost exactly between Provo, UT (where I currently reside) and Mesa, AZ, where Erin lives. I suggested the hike, and Erin jumped on board. We started recruiting, and I started researching like crazy. I read blogs, the BLM website, talked to rangers, and checked out a guide book about the area from the local library. I was stoked. We bought 7 overnight permits, without knowing exactly who was going to fill those 7 spots, and decided to do half of the hike one day, and half the next day.
Slowly, our numbers grew, and we spent a few weeks planning out the details. The only concern I really had was flash flooding. I made it really clear to everyone that if there was even a hint of rain in the forecast, that we'd cancel the hike and do something else (there's PLENTY of other stuff to do in the area, but I had my heart set on this hike). As we got closer to the weekend, the forecast didn't look too promising. There was a 30% chance of rain both days with scattered storms in the evenings. Knowing that, we probably shouldn't have gone, BUT (a) the day before the hike there was a flash flood warning until 8 pm - it didn't flash flood on that day, by the way - and the air mass was supposed to dry up Friday and Saturday, so there was no warning for the two days we were hiking, and (b) the sky was absolutely beautiful and cloudless when we woke up Friday morning.
We checked in at the ranger station, and the ranger said the weather looked OK, but not great. He said that from the time that you hear a flash flood, until the time it arrives, you have about 3 seconds. So, really, if you're in the canyon, you shouldn't worry about it too much, because there's absolutely nothing you can do if one does show up. He also said that most flash floods in the canyon we'd be climbing in come as drainage from Bryce Canyon. They take about 10 hours to arrive, and usually show up after midnight.
We set out hiking from Wire Pass and went through some gorgeous narrows. There were a few small rock falls that we had to scramble down and hand our packs over to each other. After a mile and a half or so we met up with the Buckskin Gulch. From that point on we were really in the canyon. I had assumed that we would hike for about 10 miles before hitting the campgrounds and the confluence where the Buckskin Gulch meets the Paria river, but I underestimated the distance. We hiked 12-14 miles that first day, which left us a much shorter 6-7 miles trip for day two. That first day was beautiful. The giant red rock cliffs were absolutely amazing, and so varied and different as each mile passed. There were some fun obstacles including several very muddy, stagnate pools of water we had to wade through. By the end of the day, though, we were exhausted. It wasn't until evening that we realized that we had more than 10 miles to cover that day, and our packs were getting pretty heavy, but we kept at it and finally arrived at the confluence. There were some great camps several feet of the canyon floor (a necessary precaution to protect yourself from flash floods during the night), but there were some other campers there that made us kind of uncomfortable, so we decided to continue on a little ways and see what else there was.
We found a sandy embankment with a few feet of elevation and called it good. We threw our stuff on the ground, relieved, and rested for a few seconds before setting up camp and getting things ready for dinner before dark. The Paria "River" as it turned out, was nothing more than a trickle, rolling over the stony floor of the canyon, barely deep and wide enough for us to pump a bit of water from to cook our dinner with.
We feasted on Spanish rice and dehydrated Black beans, sang a few songs to the backpacking guitar, and crashed hard in our tents. It was so warm we didn't even climb in our sleeping bags. We just laid on top and tried to sleep in the heat.
After a couple hours of twisting and turning and sleeping off and on, I awoke to the sound water. My first thought was that it must be rain, as there had been a chance of rain in the forecast, but because of the heat we had left our rain flies off our tents, and I didn't feel any water coming in. Then, still coming out of a dream-like state, I realized that what I was hearing didn't sound anything like rain. It was roaring. I sat up, and immediately knew that we were experiencing a flash flood. I saw three of my friends standing at the edge of our little embankment. I jumped out of my tent and went to see exactly what had happened. The trickling stream from the night before had become a raging 20-30 foot wide river, filling the whole canyon with muddy, dark water. We watched the water level rise, and then finally start to descend, and when we felt sure that we were safe for the night, we crawled back into bed, knowing that we were stuck on our little island, but also knowing that there was nothing we could do about it until morning.
In the morning the river was significantly lower, but still coming strong. We stuck some sticks in the sand at the water line and decided to wait until lunch time to see if the water went down at all. I hiked upstream a bit and confirmed that the river was indeed coming out of the canyon that was to be our exit route, and even without my heavy pack I had a hard time maintaining my balance in some of the strong currents and muddy floors. We made breakfast, cleaned up camp, and when it became evident that the water was not descending as quickly as we had hoped, we decided to leave as soon as possible, not wanting to get stuck in the canyon a second night with the possibility of a second flood. We ate an early lunch, prayed together, and set off, packs and all, against the current, in knee to waist deep muddy water up the canyon.
The first few hours were quite somber. 6-7 miles of upstream wading seemed nearly impossible. We came across several small embankments that allowed temporary relief from the current, but were also very muddy. We would sometimes sink up to our knees or mid-thighs and have to help each other out. The one glimmer of hope came from the campers we had met the night before. They had started a few hours ahead of us. We saw their footprints in the muddy areas, which helped us find the less-muddy paths, and they began to write the date in the mud with the time that they had arrived at each new area. We compared their progress with ours and knew that we were doing just fine. After a couple very slow miles, the canyon began to open up, the walls lowered, the water became gradually more shallow, and the land drier.
Our attitudes did a 180. It still wasn't easy, but we were getting better at finding the best places to cross the water, and there was finally a better land to water ratio, giving our legs some much needed breaks. On the land we would go as quickly as possible, and in the water we grew more and more confident.
Finally, we arrived in a complete desert. It was HOT, and we were so happy. We made good time across long stretches of sand and beating sun, with the occasional river crossing. When we had started trekking just before noon, we were sure we would be at it until 8pm or so. At 4:05, I saw the latrines at the White House trailhead sticking up out of the sand. I let out a yelp, and we all, blistered, muddy, exhausted, and relieved, took off running up the small hill to the parking lot where we had left two of our cars.
It was an awesome hike and a great adventure. It was much harder and much cooler than we could have anticipated. We headed into town that night elated. We showered, ate dinner at a fantastic Mexican restaurant (we were the only Americans in the place), and even caught a few fireworks while sitting in the back of John's truck.
God bless America.
(Below are some pictures, for the whole album, click here)
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Dîner en blanc
Today I wish I was in Paris. Vive les français.
From CNN:
10,000 Parisians participated Thursday evening in an annual summer ritual, the "Diner en Blanc" ("White Dinner"), where they take over a major landmark dressed completely in white.
Carefully orchestrated planning results in everyone arriving at a secret location (this year was the famous Place Concorde) at a specified time. They proceed to set up tables and chairs, light candles and pop champagne corks -- all within 10 minutes !! Onlookers and tourists are amazed by the spectacle.
Participants then enjoy a picnic dinner, light sparklers, and dance until 12:30 am. As quickly as it all started, everyone packs their belongings and trash. Nothing is left behind.
The event website is: www.whitedinner.fr
From CNN:
10,000 Parisians participated Thursday evening in an annual summer ritual, the "Diner en Blanc" ("White Dinner"), where they take over a major landmark dressed completely in white.
Carefully orchestrated planning results in everyone arriving at a secret location (this year was the famous Place Concorde) at a specified time. They proceed to set up tables and chairs, light candles and pop champagne corks -- all within 10 minutes !! Onlookers and tourists are amazed by the spectacle.
Participants then enjoy a picnic dinner, light sparklers, and dance until 12:30 am. As quickly as it all started, everyone packs their belongings and trash. Nothing is left behind.
The event website is: www.whitedinner.fr
Thursday, June 11, 2009
NERD
I am a nerd. As of day, my official title at work is Software Auditor. I studied French and International Studies. Go figure.
I am feeling two over whelming feelings right now (actually, more than two, but two are more overwhelming that the others). The first is fatigue. Liz (my fellow French major and travel buddy) is back in the country after a 6 month stint in Mexico learning Spanish and creating world peace, or something along those lines. I was up in Salt Lake past midnight last night just chatting with her. I love Liz, and I'm glad she's back.
The other is gratitude. If you would have asked me this morning how I like my job, I would have had some pretty colorful things to say on subject, and probably would have left you feeling sorry you had even asked (sorry to all of you who HAVE asked recently). But as of today I have officially left the ranks of "temp" and am an official full-time employee at the office I've been temping at the last 5-6 months. And as of 1pm today, I know how much I'm going to be paid. It's funny how that can change your attitude. It is significantly higher than I had estimated (I wasn't going to be picky - anything is better than a temp's wages). I was shocked. I'm pretty sure having a college diploma factored into that somewhere. It's finally starting to pay off. Nevermind that my degree is in no way related to my job. I think most all liberal arts students find themselves in this position at some point in their careers.
I almost splurged and bought a new down sleeping bag to celebrate the occasion, but I stopped myself (for now, anyway). I did, however, spend about and extra dollar more than I normally do on lunch to get the Cajun shrimp and rice special at the cafeteria, and I stopped at K-Mart on the way home and spent $2.75 on dice so that I can teach my friends to play Farkel on our upcoming backpacking trip to Buckskin Gulch.
Having spent the better part of the last year looking for a job, I have felt the weight of the economic down turn. It has been a long year. I'm so grateful to have finally found something, even if it's not exactly what I want to be doing, it's a step on the path, and I'll be able to pay off the loan from my study abroad faster than I ever dreamed possible...and start saving for the next adventure.
Life is good.
I am feeling two over whelming feelings right now (actually, more than two, but two are more overwhelming that the others). The first is fatigue. Liz (my fellow French major and travel buddy) is back in the country after a 6 month stint in Mexico learning Spanish and creating world peace, or something along those lines. I was up in Salt Lake past midnight last night just chatting with her. I love Liz, and I'm glad she's back.
The other is gratitude. If you would have asked me this morning how I like my job, I would have had some pretty colorful things to say on subject, and probably would have left you feeling sorry you had even asked (sorry to all of you who HAVE asked recently). But as of today I have officially left the ranks of "temp" and am an official full-time employee at the office I've been temping at the last 5-6 months. And as of 1pm today, I know how much I'm going to be paid. It's funny how that can change your attitude. It is significantly higher than I had estimated (I wasn't going to be picky - anything is better than a temp's wages). I was shocked. I'm pretty sure having a college diploma factored into that somewhere. It's finally starting to pay off. Nevermind that my degree is in no way related to my job. I think most all liberal arts students find themselves in this position at some point in their careers.
I almost splurged and bought a new down sleeping bag to celebrate the occasion, but I stopped myself (for now, anyway). I did, however, spend about and extra dollar more than I normally do on lunch to get the Cajun shrimp and rice special at the cafeteria, and I stopped at K-Mart on the way home and spent $2.75 on dice so that I can teach my friends to play Farkel on our upcoming backpacking trip to Buckskin Gulch.
Having spent the better part of the last year looking for a job, I have felt the weight of the economic down turn. It has been a long year. I'm so grateful to have finally found something, even if it's not exactly what I want to be doing, it's a step on the path, and I'll be able to pay off the loan from my study abroad faster than I ever dreamed possible...and start saving for the next adventure.
Life is good.
Monday, June 1, 2009
If I only had a brain...
Sometimes I really wonder about myself. I know my parents wonder about me quite often, but sometimes even I start wondering. I'm really lacking in the 'common sense' area sometimes. The last couple of weeks have brought this to my attention in vivid detail.
Here's the background: Some friends and I decided to spend Memorial day weekend in northern California at a girl's cabin. That's about where my bad decision making swung in to full force. The decision to go to California wasn't bad (that's never a bad decision), but I think I'm invincible, and this weekend was no exception. So, I found us a rental car and volunteered to be the only driver so we wouldn't have to pay to insure a second. Brilliant, I thought. Hold that thought...
Last month sometime I got a speeding ticket. I got lost, ended up at the airport, and forgot that driving faster than half the average human's walking speed is strictly prohibited. I'm not a speeder, really I'm not. It was just a bad mix-up that ended up costing me $107.
Well, my car is about to die, so the rental car was the nicest thing I had driven in for quite sometime. On that long desert stretch between SLC and Reno I might have hit 100 MPH or better a few times, because it honestly just didn't feel that fast. Having just gotten a ticket, you would think that I would not have even considered going above the speed limit. I was kind of in a hurry since I was the only driver...but I really have no idea what I was thinking, which is probably why no coherent phrases would come out of my mouth when the cop said "Do you know how fast your were going? And I suggest that you be VERY honest with me." I'm sure the last thing a cop wants to hear is that you had no idea how fast you were barrelling down the free way because you were paying absolutely no attention while manoeuvring a 2,000 pound metal object filled with human lives, but it was the best I could do. He clocked me at 98 MPH. It cost me 300 bones.
I've pretty much blown my driving record into oblivion during the last 2 1/2 years. But, if I get my license suspended, I wouldn't be the first in my immediate family to have experienced that inconvenience. But that person, who shall go unnamed, is spending two years car-less in Argentina while his driving record gets wiped clean.
On top of that, the drive that was supposed to take 9 hours took closer to 11. So, while the 45 minute potty-breakers (I seriously don't know what could have taken so long) snoozed in the back seat, I was dodging wildlife (I almost took out a jackrabbit the size of a dog) on a tiny mountain road at 3:30 in the morning.
Anyway, it was a fun weekend, and I learned a lot. A LOT.
My second lack-of-judgement moment was signing up for a 10K (6.2 miles) race up Provo Canyon about a week and half before it started. Normally this would be no problem, because normally I'm a pretty consistent runner. But I really struggled over winter and ran a bit back in March, but it had been nearly three months since I had run at all. I'm not afraid to go wear myself out, but I have a history of injuries (stress fracture kind of stuff), so it wasn't a super smart move. It ended up being really fun, and only hurt a little bit. It was a beautiful run up to Bridal Veil falls and back.
Anyway, life is about learning, right? Next time, I'm sleeping in the back seat.
Here's the background: Some friends and I decided to spend Memorial day weekend in northern California at a girl's cabin. That's about where my bad decision making swung in to full force. The decision to go to California wasn't bad (that's never a bad decision), but I think I'm invincible, and this weekend was no exception. So, I found us a rental car and volunteered to be the only driver so we wouldn't have to pay to insure a second. Brilliant, I thought. Hold that thought...
Last month sometime I got a speeding ticket. I got lost, ended up at the airport, and forgot that driving faster than half the average human's walking speed is strictly prohibited. I'm not a speeder, really I'm not. It was just a bad mix-up that ended up costing me $107.
Well, my car is about to die, so the rental car was the nicest thing I had driven in for quite sometime. On that long desert stretch between SLC and Reno I might have hit 100 MPH or better a few times, because it honestly just didn't feel that fast. Having just gotten a ticket, you would think that I would not have even considered going above the speed limit. I was kind of in a hurry since I was the only driver...but I really have no idea what I was thinking, which is probably why no coherent phrases would come out of my mouth when the cop said "Do you know how fast your were going? And I suggest that you be VERY honest with me." I'm sure the last thing a cop wants to hear is that you had no idea how fast you were barrelling down the free way because you were paying absolutely no attention while manoeuvring a 2,000 pound metal object filled with human lives, but it was the best I could do. He clocked me at 98 MPH. It cost me 300 bones.
I've pretty much blown my driving record into oblivion during the last 2 1/2 years. But, if I get my license suspended, I wouldn't be the first in my immediate family to have experienced that inconvenience. But that person, who shall go unnamed, is spending two years car-less in Argentina while his driving record gets wiped clean.
On top of that, the drive that was supposed to take 9 hours took closer to 11. So, while the 45 minute potty-breakers (I seriously don't know what could have taken so long) snoozed in the back seat, I was dodging wildlife (I almost took out a jackrabbit the size of a dog) on a tiny mountain road at 3:30 in the morning.
Anyway, it was a fun weekend, and I learned a lot. A LOT.
My second lack-of-judgement moment was signing up for a 10K (6.2 miles) race up Provo Canyon about a week and half before it started. Normally this would be no problem, because normally I'm a pretty consistent runner. But I really struggled over winter and ran a bit back in March, but it had been nearly three months since I had run at all. I'm not afraid to go wear myself out, but I have a history of injuries (stress fracture kind of stuff), so it wasn't a super smart move. It ended up being really fun, and only hurt a little bit. It was a beautiful run up to Bridal Veil falls and back.
Anyway, life is about learning, right? Next time, I'm sleeping in the back seat.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
...mmmhhhhmmmm
There is a crack up Rock Canyon that is my nemesis. Today I finally got past it (normally I end up swinging to the other side of the rock and changing routes half way). I'm not going to say that I did it gracefully, but I did it, and that's the first step.
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