Here again

Ah Church, I'm here again.  For some reason I feel happier entering the family ward than I did the Singles'.  Probably some B.F. Skinner effect though I can't think of any particularly happy event that's happened here, not beyond the everyday, Church experience.  No matter, even if it's irrational at least it's positively irrational.  I thread my way through the crowded hallways towards the chapel.  I'm early, but with this being the second service here today I have to be careful not to step on or run into the numerous children from the last meeting who are scampering about.  I finally make it to the chapel doors and peer in.

On my mission I had figured out the rules that govern seating in a family ward.  Perhaps rules is too strong a word; patterns then.  Unfortunately, I've forgotten a lot of them in the intervening years.  I know if you chose wrong it's easy to get displaced by a family who thinks you've taken their (obviously reserved) seat.  One of the advantages of being a missionary was the excuse it gave you to stand at the door until services began and then nab whatever seat was open in the back.

Really my biggest goal here is to not sit directly in front of rowdy children.  Besides the added noise I always end up getting pummeled from behind and find myself unable to deal appropriately with it.  Typically I sit their quietly pretending I don't notice the saliva encrusted hands slugging me in the back.  "What's that?" my body language seems to be saying, " I had no idea I was being pounded in the back and will now have to have my suit dry-cleaned."  My body language is quite well spoken.

I slide into a seat on the side, far enough over so others can join me, close enough to the aisle so as to avoid the appearance of having sequestered myself alone, against the wall.  A few moments later a young family seats themselves directly behind me.  The children began the traditional ritual of back pounding and I sigh.  Oh well, he tries, he fails, he'll have a go again next week.

As I studiously ignore the fist of fury that have entrenched themselves behind me, an elderly lady comes over and sits beside me.  I know her!  Despite about one third of this ward inexplicably knowing who I am, I know 3 of them, 4 tops, but she's one of them!

"You probably don't remember me," she begins.

Ha!  I try desperately to keep an incredibly smug look off of my face.  This is my big chance to pretend to know someone without having to actually pretend!  "No, I remember" I interrupt in what I fervently hope isn't an incredibly condescending voice.

"Well" she goes on to explain, apparently unaware of my mighty triumph, "we have a grand-niece in town..."

Uh-oh.  My recent victory quickly drains away, most likely along with just about all the blood in my face.  My mind races, but being unemployed, good excuses to avoid this stuff are hard to come by.  She's about to try to pair me off, I just know it.  And here it come...

"..I don't want to play matchmaker" uh-huh, "but I think she'd really like to spend time with someone her own age.  She's just here for a few months staying with us, all these old people and..."

This woman really is a very sweet old lady, there's no question about that.  Sadly all that is forgotten as I listen closely, ready to pounce at the first mistake she makes.  I don't do blind dates, certainly not with someone's grand niece.  "Someone her age", what age is that?  She's probably 17 and her grand-aunt just has no clue how old anyone under 60 is anymore.  But she's still talking.

"..and anyways I really think she'd enjoy spending time with someone her own age" there it is again "so we'd love to have you over after Church for dinner"

Ha!  I found her mistake: she said dinner!  After Church would really be 'lunch' in my lexicon but she said dinner.  Advantage me!

Appearing both crestfallen and yet strangely eager, I respond "I'm terribly sorry, I have dinner" (ha!) "plans with my sister and brother-in-law".  (Pull it back, your voice sounds like you just received news that your whole family went down in a terrible helicopter crash after having attacked Chicago in what's already being described as "the next 9/11").  I'm realizing here, in a moment of personal clarity, that all in all I probably wouldn't make it as an actor in Hollywood, better end this soon.  "So I would like to, and that's very sweet but I guess I just can't today.  Thank-you though."

I do kind of have a dinner date with my sister and brother-in-law.  Close enough anyways, and I don't feel the need to explain to my parents that I wont be home for supper due to having a date with someone while being chaperoned by a couple somewhere in their 200th year of marriage who apparently set me up while I'm at Church.  I'm pretty sure their view of Church is dark enough without that image to go with it.  Some more pleasantries and she heads back to her seat with Church about to start.  Whew!

During the sacrament hymn, another family joins me on my pew.  Young children again but the parents seem to be in better control.  The father sits next to me and subconsciously (apparently) keeps his little ones bound in between himself and his wife, using his leg as the corral boundary.  Suddenly I realize the hitting has stopped.  Kids behind me and to my side and I'm being left alone!  Well excellent, I guess when it rains it pours.

Sacrament begins.  It's surprisingly quiet.  Almost all the children there are talking, but it's amazingly in whispers, or quiet talking I suppose.  No shouting or screaming: I'm impressed!  This is quite pleasant, at least for a family ward.  Oh, maybe I should be focusing on the sacrament at this point.  Good thing my attention span lasts for at least three second.  I look up to the stand where a member of the stake presidency is sitting.  I know him, he seems to appear at whatever ward I attend.  I can never remember his name but it's easy to recognize his face.  He always looks like he's staring out at a sea of people in the process of eating their own children.  Honestly, how can he look so disgusted with the world all the time? Even when he's smiling he looks disgusted, I don't know how that's possible.  Maybe this is the result of forcing the WWII generation men to watch their wives give birth.  They just weren't ready for that sh**.

I continue my 20 second cycle of paying attention and getting distracted through the remainder of the service.  The first talk is actually quite good, a little humor, a good message well portrayed by someone who clearly isn't overly comfortable with public speaking.  Oh, are we standing up to sing the intermediate hymn?  All right, I could use the stretch, I stand up to watch the rest of the congregation slowly get to their feet, apparently under the impression that this is the worst thing humanity has forced upon itself since that fateful decision to air Jersey Shore.  My pathetic attempt to sing the bass line to a hymn I don't know finished, we sit and listen to that Stake Presidency member deliver his recitation.

The thesis of his talk is apparently that we don't have a good enough appreciation for how horrendous Christ's suffering was.  This is going to be good, I can tell.  He begins a delineation of the horrors of the Crucification, along with a bunch of medical jargon about just how painful it would be.  Ugh.  This is like listening to someone read the script to a Saw movie.  I imagine, I don't go to those things because I don't like them.  I don't think having a disgusted looking octogenarian read the script would be much of a step up though.  Why am I not getting distracted now?  Isn't there some perfectly innocent movement in the crowd that I can over analyze and then demean in my own mind?  Apparently not.  I'll just have to concentrate on not vomiting until he finally steps down.  They should bring those airline-baggies with them if they're going to go into this kind of detail.  Also, don't tell me to think about this next time Christ comes up in my mind.  I want to be able to pray again at some point in my future life and I wont be able to if this is the image that pops into my head when I try.

Few, it's over.  Closing hymn and we're off to Sunday School.  I settle down into the back and studiously don't say anything as the class filters in.  With no one to talk to I'm always to these classes early and it can make for some awkward moments.  I find it's a lot less awkward if I appear to be doing something really important, rather than sitting there pretending not notice anyone.  Which of course is exactly what I'm doing.

The class opens up and it's time for introductions.  Luckily I got mine out of the way last week, so I'm in the clear now.  Oh, there's the elderly lady from before with her husband.  Wait, who is she sitting by?  Oh my gosh, this isn't who I think, is it?  "This is our niece, visiting us for a few months before she goes back home."  She says, shattering my idealistic hopes.  That was who she was trying to set me up with?  I'm mean she looks fine I suppose but she's at least 45 years old!  I guess I was right when I figured she didn't have a good grasp of age, but in a very wrong direction.  Oh goodness, do I look 45?  I always thought I looked young for my age, at least when I shaved.  Do I appear to be in her age group?  Am I really "someone her age"?  This is highly unsettling.

I make it through the rest of class without blurting out anything inappropriate.  I'm asked to read but I made it through college and grad school, I can read aloud without thinking, which is perfect for this moment right now.  Because I'm certainly not thinking about John 6, I'm just trying to reassure myself that at 25 I don't appear to be twice as old as I actually am.  Honestly, I never thought I'd have to the problem of worrying about looking old, I thought I was above that type of shallow self-absorption.  Turns out I have a breaking point too.  And that point is being set-up with a freaking 45 year old.

Class ends and I slink innocuously off to my Elder's Quorum meeting.  There's only 5 other guys there, including the one running the meeting.  He seems to be very conscious of that fact and tries cracking jokes about it for upwards of ten minutes.  I think I might have heard someone laugh but that could've been the pew creaking.  This is fun.  Finally he turns it over to the instructor for the day.  His lesson is on honesty and he begins with a series of very odd hypotheticals ("imagine you're a sixteen year-old girl whose Mother is a drug addict" umm, OK).  No one wants to respond to any of them.  Finally someone raises his hand to bring up someone everyone's more comfortable talking about: women.  Of course it's the classic: "if your wife asks you if she looks fat, what do you respond".  Ah-hah!  I know how to answer this one, and if I'm going to be here for an extended period of time I should probably at least try to make some inroads.

I start to blather on and on, even I stop paying attention.  This is not good, only two people are looking at me and they're both looking bored.  Shoot, better wrap it up.  Wait a second, did I just call all their wives fat?  Uh-oh, I think I did.  I'm not that dumb though, right?  I'm mean surely they realize that's not what I meant, right?  Probably not, I start to back-pedal.  I don't think it's working, though I have to admit more of the guys are looking at me now.  Finally the instructor cuts me off and moves the lesson on.  That went well.  I certainly made some inroads.

The class ends in a series of contradictory statements from all involved along with an admission of torrenting mp3s from the instructor.  Always a nice touch.  We're out a little late.  I better hurry to my car, gotta get ready for that dinner appointment with my family tonight!  That went really well I thought.

It's not a beard

I have this discussion a lot.  It's not that I'm growing a beard, at least no more than any post-puberty male is always growing a beard.  It's just that I'm not shaving right now, they aren't the same.  Or I don't think they're the same, clearly it's not unanimous opinion.  With an electric shaver I went daily, it was easy and the shave wasn't great so I couldn't go longer without some obvious side effects anyways.  When I transitioned to the straight shave I found I could go multiple days before shaving again.  Skipping one day was a max if I wanted a clean look but the shave was so good that I could at least do that, and more if I didn't care too much about stubble.  The problem was when I removed it from my daily routine it got easier to rationalize extra days.

Well all that came in stride until I finished school and couldn't find a job.  I also moved and outside my family still have literally no friends.  Or none within a few hundred miles anyways.  I didn't go to work, school, nor did I go out socially.  The only reason to shave for appearance sake was Church once a week.  Which I quickly transitioned to.  Only I don't make it to Church every week.  I'm not skipping or anything, not directly anyways.  But I take trips (mostly camping trips) that will often go over the weekend and find myself in the woods rather than the chapel on Sundays.  I haven't missed that many Sundays, but when I do that adds a week to my lack of shaving.  I've just finished the longest stretch for me since I started shaving.  I went with my parents on a trip (see below) that covered two Sundays.  The next weekend was general conference, so that was three Sundays missed and I missed each shave with them.  I did finally pick up the blade today but the beard had gotten rather long, to the point I stopped believing the "not growing a beard, just not shaving" argument myself.  Ah well, it's gone now.  Here's a before and after set:

Recent Camping Trip (Spring Break, 2011)

Well I wont describe it in detail but I got back at the beginning of this week from a nice little trip.  Because I sort pictures by location and not trips or time I can't give a link to the collection of them directly.  Instead I will direct you to my photos in general: http://www.panoramio.com/user/5423509 and say that at this point they are the last photos uploaded there (which show up first, the site organized it by date).  There's some good ones there.

We went, via the Monument, to Capital Reef in Utah.  There we climbed Navajo Knobs.  Afterwards over to Escalante and to Little Death Hollow.  Then down to Coyote Gulch the next day.  Following was some good driving on Hole in the Rock road and Cottonwood road (and a little trip down the associated Narrows).  Then we headed into Phoenix to catch some Rockies spring training which was fantastic.  Finally we headed back up with a stop to walk down into and out of the Grand Canyon.  Finally: home.  Not a bad trip.  No one else was amused as I was but I loved that there were signs all over the place in the GC telling you not to walk down and back in a day.  One read: "Do not attempt unless you are prepared for the following: permanent brain damage, cardiac arrest, death"  I found that hilarious.  I guess my whole family is prepared for death!

The Thorofare in Winter

The Thorofare, as referenced by me, is a large expanse of Wilderness that encompasses the Southern border of Yellowstone National Park and the Northern, Teton Wilderness.  It is huge, it is wild, it has mountains, and other than during hunting season virtually no one goes there.  That virtual lack of people drops even further in the winter when it would be lucky to see five people over the course of the extended season.  My Father had been there twice before in Winter (and several times in the Summer) but I never had in any season.  This year, still looking for work, I had time to join him on his sabbatical trip into the most remote part for a five day ski trip.

I don't have any pictures placed directly here, but I have uploaded quite a few, and tagged their location so you can see our journey if you wish.  They are all located here.

We left Saturday night and drove into Wyoming to get a jump on the next day (it's a long drive from Colorado to Turpin Meadows in North Western Wyoming where our journey was to start).  The next day we arrived at the trailhead (and our lodgings) in the early afternoon.  That gave us time to put a trail in before dinner.  The overall plan was to leave from Turpin Meadows and climb up into the Soda Fork Meadow.  From there we head North into North Fork Meadow, over Trail Creek Pass and down to Ocean Divide and Meadow.  Then out into the Thorofare valley where we'd stay by the Hawk's Rest cabin.  A lay-over day to cruise around the valley (and specifically go over to the Thorofare ranger cabin) and then back the way we came.

That afternoon we made it to the top of Soda Fork Meadow, which was helpful for two reasons.  The first is to have a trail put in for the next day (breaking trail in cross-country skis is hard!) and the second is despite a wide, summer trail and good maps we still got lost quite a bit in the woods.  It's amazing how easy it is to lose a trail in the Winter!  Well anyways, we put the trail in and headed back for dinner.  After eating and putting our packs together for the next day it was time for some early sleep.

The next day we got up and on the trail by 6:20, just as it was getting light.  We were dry and well prepared (about the only time on the trip) and so even though the temperature was hovering somewhere between -10 and -15 we didn't feel very cold.  We made it back to Soda Fork in good time, and slogged through the meadow as a wind began to pick-up.  Then up and over to North Fork, avoiding the avalanche slopes as best we good.  The original plan was to make it to the top of Trail Creek Pass by that night but the snow was much deeper than anticipated (deeper down to a crust, the 4.5+ feet of snow pack wasn't the issue, the amount we sunk in was) and as we slogged through North Fork Meadow it became increasingly unlikely that we would make it.  I, in particular, ran out of energy and we had to stop at the top of the Meadow for a very cold lunch.  We made it almost halfway up the pass before deciding to stop at around 3:00.  Which seems early but there's much left to do on these trips after the traveling end is over.

We constructed a snow cave in the trees, which took two hours.  There was so much snow it was never an issue to find a good place (though walking around through it was more problematic).  Here we picked the base of a tree and simply dug up out of the depression.  Afterwards it was time to melt snow and boil some water for our (freeze-dried) dinner.  This process was very slow, taking almost two hours every night.  It's an amazing amount of extra work to have to melt snow for drinking water rather than just purify stream water.  That done we retired to the cave as it was getting dark and spent the next 11 hours laying inside.

The next day we were up at sunrise and moving as fast as we could.  We broke camp and headed up the pass, which involved one very tricky gully we were forced up to avoid an avalanche slope.  70' of elevation gain by side-stepping can really wear you out!  Then up and over down to Two Ocean.  The many-mile-meadow was a slog.  Though it was beautiful, the endless breaking trail through a meadow whose end never seemed to get closer was quite punishing.  Finally we hit the end and drop off both the meadow and the trail to follow the creek down to the Thorofare valley (which, though slightly dangerous, is much faster in the winter than sticking with the trail).  From there we cross the massive expanse to the bridge over the Yellowstone and the cabin by Hawk's Rest.  Though the whole trip so far has had pretty good views, this is certainly the jewel.  The scale of it all is hard to take in.  The mountains aren't as spectacular as the Wind Rivers to the South, or the Tetons that we could see at the beginning of the trip, but they're beautiful, and huge, and the area is so wild as to more than compensate.  The two of us were mostly likely the only ones who would be there for the entire Winter, and we were certainly alone then!

Again we made it by 3, and set to building a snow cave and melting water.  And again finished just in time to duck into the cave as night came (and with it, the cold).  The next day we awoke for our layover day, a chance for some great scenery and for out bodies to rest an recuperate.  Neither of us were eating or drinking enough (we estimated under 1500 calories a piece per day) but a day of easier skiing should help.  We headed over to the Thorofare cabin on the other side of the valley.  The views were great and this was my biggest day for photography.  Right outside the cabin (about) is a special point.  Hard to nail down exactly, but it is the farthest one can be from a road in the contiguous United States.  I took some pictures and a 360 view from there before heading back.  I then skied around to get some more photos while my Father melted more water.  A couple of short little ski trips and a dinner later and it was off to bed again.

The next day we saddled up and began the return trip.  It had begun snowing the night before and was still going when we left.  In fact we couldn't see across the valley to figure out where to go!  We simply had to trust our sense of direction, and memory, to make it through.  Luckily both were good enough we made it across with no incident and spent the rest of the day alternating snow and sun.  Which was a sticky combination for our skis, and a tiring one, but not beyond our means.

We had planned to sleep in our first snow cave that night, but upon returning found it sagging far too much for comfort (it had begun sagging the first night, and actually dripped quite a bit of water on my Father's sleeping bag).  So we pressed on all the way down the pass into the North Fork Meadow where we built a new cave and for the last time, melted snow for our final journey out.

The next day it was still snowing, though again clearing on occasion for a brief bit of sun.  We made great time down to Soda Fork and out, but as soon as we hit the top of the trail, the sun came out in earnest and our skis began to stick terribly.  What had taken us less than 2 hours to get down the first day we put in the trail this time took close to four.  It was quite painful, as I had injured my leg the previous day, and quite slow.  Nevertheless we had left early in the morning for just that reason, and made out car by 2:00 with plenty of time to spare.

It was a great trip, gorgeous and wild.  This little summary here was intended more as a "where was I" description than a true expression of what the trip was like.  It as cold, and very wet.  It was a lot of work especially with the snow not really ideal for skiing at that point.  Always being on top of 4 or 5 feet of snow, never being able to sit down or be dry grates on a person.  Yet it was spectacular, the views were amazing. And the feeling of solitude and grandeur more than made up for the hardships such as they were.  What a wondrous time!

Beware Ties

I imagine a constant flux of neutrinos flowing into my body through my tie.  It appears to be acting as some sort of portal into my body; Rays of matter tracing backwards in time to fusion sources, rushing into my soft interior.  Though I can't imagine my tie provides any meaningful armor against something as slippery as a neutrino, it of course provides no easier entrance into me.  Perhaps its the shape: like some sort of colloquial, super-hero insignia.  It certainly matches well with the stereotypes of male persona: everyday superheros, each a calling card of barely hidden powers and chivalry.

I wonder what damage all that extra energy is doing to me.  Perhaps wearing a 3-piece helps as it allows my vest to protect most of my chest.  Of course my tie some how conducts matter into me despite the two layers of clothing beneath.

I have to imagine that it's more than just neutrinos.  After all, those basically interact with nothing and thus can not be percieved.  I'm seeing these particles flow into me, though certainly they could do nothing more than enter in.  Maybe its electromagnet waves: photons, pure energy.  This is certainly an appealing visual but the physics doesn't add up.  Hollywood aside, energy and light can't be seen unless directed at one's eyes.  Unless the offending material is actually flowing out of me, through my tie, this does not work.  And my tie is definitely imbibing that substance into me, not shedding it abroad.

It appears more as some sort of macro-scale particles.  Perhaps low-level atoms fluorescing under an unknown energy stream.  Or mixed in with radioactive elements that are emitting in the visible spectrum for some astrological cause.  No, the particles are only part of the stream, that must be it.  Some far off transmitter aimed directly at my tie, fiery and endless streams of matter.  Hydrogen atoms in a stream of photons, photoelectric, creating for me a wondrous image of the exterior communicator.  Some purpose served by manipulating my insides.

So much energy corrupts, and corrupts quickly, but I can not imagine, or wish not to, so much effort done just to destroy me.  This has been going on for some time, if it truly were determinantal I would have known by now, most likely would have died by now.  It is something else, something far more sinister than mere death.  Murder is a street game, a low class offense.  This is technocracy, this will not stoop to such a petty crime.

A deeper game is being played here: I'm convinced of it.  The tie manufactures are in on it, have been for years.  What if correlation of upper-class behavior is actually the result of some generational scheme?  Or perhaps this the next step into activation was more recent.  That must be why there is now a fashionable alternative for women and tie wearing.  Now both sexes are subject to the whims of these transmitters.  But who is the great plotter?

Perhaps the first step is to begin to follow the leaders of the tie companies.  Find their associates, figure out with whom they have hatched their great scheme.  Or would it be more direct to go straight to the fashion moguls themselves?  Are they the chief players in this game, manufacturers just some pawns that have been brought forward in our new, industrial age?

No, they must both be only minor actors in the game: each one taking a title role when society shifts attention.  Now that we have moved into the information age, visual fashionistas are taking a starring role. But somewhere behind both the strings lead back to that great puppeteer.  They're lurking in the dark, behind the veil.  Can we pierce that deeply, or are we to remain forever subject to our ties?  Bound up in inevitability as someone else's will is played out in our lives.

Colorado National Monument

A three night, two day (three day if you count driving) trip to the Monument.  I left Monday late in the morning.  A stop by Target to pick up some supplies (Target because I needed some electronics too) and then about 5 hours later I was pulling into the campground.  I step up the tent, which was a new, ultra-fancy/light one man contraption my Dad had just purchased and wanted me to try out.

After that it was time to walk around and see the sites.  I played around with my camera, as I was trying to get better at manually setting the shutter speed and f-stop, as well as learn its secrets.  Dinner and chores finished in time for the sunset which was a dozy, and then off to bed for some fitful sleep.  All three nights I was the only one in the campground which was quite nice.

Up the next day at around 5:30 and off to the trail.  The hike I had planned was actually outside the Monument itself: a few miles to the West, up to the densest concentration of natural arches in the United States save Arches NP itself.  They're all located in Rattlesnake canyon, North-West of the Monument.  I actually got off around 6:30, which was about when it got light enough to see unaided.  It was cool, low to mid twenties, but after about 30 minutes with my rain-coat on I was too hot and returned to just my hiking clothes, which ended up being the last time I wore anything for warmth this trip.

The hike was across a few canyons before climbing up to the top of Rattlesnake (the arches themselves actually being on the ridge of Rattlesnake canyon rather than down at the bottom of it).  For the first half-mile or so there were many foot-prints, then just one set.  At three miles in there was a very tricky spot with the snow and ice and that was the last of those prints.  After a slog up to the top I reached the ridge and was rewarded with some very nice views, then down to see the tops of these arches!

Then it was time to head down and see them from below, where it was supposedly much better views.  Now ... how to get down?  All the maps I saw, including the one I had with me showed the trail dipping down the 100 or so feet right at the beginning and simply continuing around.  I had walked to the end of the ridge on top and seen no connection.  For about two hours I searched for the trail, walking back and forth.  Finally I walked up to a trailhead above the ridge where a 4x4 track came in (closed for the winter).  There I found a map that clearly showed that the trail did not connect, that it simply ended at the top of the arches and looked like it did on my map because, horizontally, it was almost on top of the trail that went around the bottom.  The only way to reach that trail was back the way I came and then around the point of the ridge.  Ahh well, I got some good pictures.  Including one incredibly wide panorama from the 4x4 trailhead.

Then it was back down and around for those arches!  They were incredible, and remote enough to make them a lot more fun then Arches NP.  I was disappointed that my confusion on top kept me from dropping down into the canyon like I had originally planned, but I saw all the arches which was the main point.  Loop over I headed back to the car.  The whole trip was around 25 miles, which wasn't too bad.  A lot of snow and mud and my new boots held up great so that was promising.

I turned in at sunset again, and slept even worse this night.  Still I got a few hours in and woke up at 4:30, which was just about perfect.  My second hike started flat and in the trees, which was good for pre-dawn hiking (with a headlamp) and I wanted to get an early start.  The mud was pretty bad there and the more of the hike I completed in the morning the better, before the ground thawed out.  So it was around 5:45 when I actually got started, this time in the Monument itself.

The overall hike was to go down the liberty cap trail down to the bench at the foot of the Monument, walk along that to Wedding Canyon and follow that up to the Monument trail (the bench and wedding trails both being unmaintained trails).  That would lead back to the main road, and from there Black Ridge trail back to my car.  Overall about 27 miles, so it promised to be a good work-out.

The sun came up around the time I hit liberty cap, which was good for both scenery and the hike down to the bench was a bit tricky.

Then off on the bench trail, which was mostly pretty good though I did lose it once.  There were great views though.  No footprints, which was nice, always good to have a bit of the hike that feels secluded even if it's over-looking a town.

After walking past the trail head to the Colorado National Monument Trail (looks imposing, doesn't it?) it was up Wedding Canyon.  Incidentally, the trailhead was the only place I ever saw anyone else on a trail there: two women walking together, and one runner.  The trail up the canyon was quite nice, though steeper than I had anticipated.  As with the rest of the Monument, there were nice, canyon views the whole way.

Then I met up with the main trail and went back to the road above the canyons.  The trail was expertly routed to be both safe and spread the elevation gain out as much as possible.  One of the best trails I've been on, though by this point things were starting to get rather muddy.

Once I hit the road, I picked up the liter of water I'd stashed there and it was up to Black Ridge and back.  This walk at first was pretty, but quickly fell into the trees and lost most of the view.  What I remember about it, though, was the mud.  By now it was afternoon and snow was melting and ground unfreezing and things were very unpleasant.  Each step was at least an inch into the quagmire, rocks and plans, on trail, off trail, nothing seemed to work as a solution.  Still, one step at a time and I made it back to the car with a very nice trip completed and time left to wander around and see the sights.

There was supposed to be rain and snow coming in that night so I planned on getting to sleep as quickly as I could, and simply packing up and leaving as soon as the precipitation came.  While I turned in early I simply couldn't get to sleep.  The weather was supposed to move in by 9, and when midnight came I was still awake and still waiting.  I finally decided to just forget it and go home.  So I packed up and left around 12:30 or so.  I was glad I did, the pass at Vail and the Eisenhower tunnel got very slippery by the time I reached them, it turns out it was snowing there already, just not at the Monument!  Anyways, I beat the chain law being put into effect by about half an hour, though conditions were quite slippery and very slow for me.  I made it home by 5:30 that morning, unpacked and went to sleep.  A very nice trip, if not overly long.

Full pictures, including higher resolution versions of the ones here, can be found at: http://www.panoramio.com/user/5423509/tags/Colorado%20National%20Monument

Moving into the (video) Big Time

I finally figured out how to get video from the camcorder developed during the Alaskan gold rush onto my computer.  So here's my first video: me playing the piano.  Yes, I am that boring.



There you go.

And Home Again

When I got up the next morning (I wont say woke up, as the only time I slept was 10 to midnight) I went down to the end of the Island and walked a mile out to the farthest South overlook on the Island.  I brought the tripod and tried to take some 360 pictures of the sunrise.  I haven't found a program to merge them yet so I don't know how well it worked,  but there some good shots either way.  I then did some more overlooks on the way out, none of them being more than 2 miles.

Below is looking through Mesa arch out onto the East side of the park.

After the overlooks it was time to go to Arches.  I hadn't been there in ages and I have to admit after my much expanded memories and a week in Canyonlands, I was kind of disappointed.  Still, it was nice and I took several pictures, including the classic Delicate arch.

Then it was shortly after 12:00 and I realized I'd done everything I wanted to do in Arches.  Which meant it was time to go home.  Fine with me, I didn't feel like spending another night out anyways.  The drive home was pretty fast.  A little scary in a few parts but amusingly the most dangerous part was about 3/4 of a mile from home where I couldn't make it up a snow covered hill.  However, two alternate routes later and I was home from my trip: a success!

Down and Around

The planned loop had me drive to one tailhead and then walk back to the Gooseberry trailhead about 2.5-3 miles along the paved road.  Then a drop down Gooseberry itself and out onto the shelf.  From there the trail flowed around the tip of the Island and back to the trail leading up to my car.  The total distance was about 26 miles, and in the winter timing can be everything.  I left before sun-up, but twilight had already come.  Under no condition did I want to do Gooseberry before the sun came up (even though it would be in the shade all day due to the positioning of the cliff).  When I arrived at the drop the sun was coming up and there were some great views.

After taking pictures and a deep breath, there was nothing for it.  I have no pictures to show how truly terrifying it was, so you'll have to take my word for it.  The shot below was simply me right above the trail (you can see the first carrin on the bottom left) pointing my camera straight down.  The trail drops faster than you can really see in this picture.

Besides the pain in my left knee and foot, it was terrifying.  I never lost the trail and I honestly believe it was a gift from God, as there were many points where I simply had to plunge ahead and hope I was on the right track.  There was steep drops, cover in several feet of snow.  Small ledges you were to walk across that had so much snow you didn't know they were there and just had to hope.  Slipping and watching mini avalanches charging out in front of me and then dropping off the side of the cliff into the aether, I was frightened.  I went very, very slowly, foot by foot.  The 1+ miles of actual descent took me about an hour and a half, but I made it.

Once down it was spectacular.  Mountains and deep canyons, and the Island always above me.  And no one there at all, nor had there been.  It was just me and the scenery and miles and miles of trail.  I did begin to get nervous.  The next landmark after the drop that had a distance associated with it was 8 miles.  With the injuries I had I thought I was going fast but I knew I could easily be deceived by the pain.  I kept pushing myself to faster and faster.  As it turns out I was going plenty fast, in fact my resting average for the day was just under 3 mph (and just over if you took out the slow drop down Gooseberry).

I made it back to my car with plenty of day left for dinner and settling down.  I discovered that not only was I the only one on the trail that day, but there was only one or two other car tracks down on the south end of the Island where I was!  Now that's solitude.  I spent the night in the car again, and I was cold and slept poorly but this time I wasn't nervous.  It was a great day!

To Island in the Sky

I woke up around 6:00 and packed up.  The hotel's breakfast didn't start until 6:30 so I had to wait for that, but shortly I was on the road, headed for the Island in the Sky district of Canyonlands.  Here, the Island is a massive butte that sits at about 6000' elevation.  Shear cliffs drop off on all sides (save the North, where you drive into the park) over 1000' to a shelf below.  From there it is another drop or two and another 1000' feet to the Colorado and Green rivers that run on either side of the Island.  Most of the hikes are either very short (no more than 1.5 miles one way) walks out to view points, or much longer and more strenuous climbs that have been expertly routed down the side of the cliffs onto the shelf below.  There, a 4x4 track runs around the circumference of the island and is very popular with mountain bikers in the Summer.  There are no paths down to any lower shelves and to the best of my knowledge, no feasible access routes even for experienced, technical rock climbers.  The views from on top are spectacular, and this is a great place to visit if you never want to do a hike more than 2 miles but still want extraordinary views.

Here I found far more snow than there was just a few miles South in the Needles.  I imagine it was due to the elevation and topography, but whatever the cause, camping was made nigh impossible with my equipment.  Still I entered the park with high hopes and was not let down.

After taking the above pictures at one of the overlooks I headed to the hike for the day.  This was to be a test, it was supposed to be one the easier descents onto the shelf and I wanted to see how feasible it was in the snow and ice.  You can see a picture I took of it below.  This was taken from the bottom: the trail goes up the cliff on the right side of the picture (where you see the trail of snow leading up to the top).  Beneath that picture is an image of the trail from the top (or close to the top) looking down.

It was a little frightening going down it, I'll admit.  A few quick gasps of breath as I slipped or discovered more snow than I expected, but overall quite doable.  The hike and view at the bottom were nice as well.  The multiple layers of this park made for very interesting times, and very pretty ones.  Also, I saw big-horn sheep.

 It was a clear morning, but as the afternoon came, so to did weather.  When I began to climb up the side of the Island again small flakes of snow were falling.  By the time I reached the top and walked a mile or so out to a view point it had turned into a full-on blizzard.  Which was quite disappointing as I had a series of overlooks planned for the afternoon.  I did them anyways and found the weather kept oscillating between blizzard and blue sky.  It was fun when I reached the overlook above my trail that day: in the blizzard with a 1000'+ drop straight down right beneath me, I pulled out my harmonica and blew out some tunes including Amazing Grace.  It might only have been for me, but  appreciated it.  Below is a picture of upheaval dome, taken in one of those blue sky moments.

I went to the visitor center to ask about conditions and weather.  I was told the next day would bring clear skies, but the rangers couldn't tell me much about trail conditions.  It makes sense based on what I saw I guess.  The trail I went down that day was clear of prints after the first few hundred feet, and the one I was to go down the next day didn't even have tracks approaching it, much less going down.

I had a long hike planned for the next day, it was to be my last one and after having been stymied twice I really wanted this one to work.  It was simpler than the first one I planned, and most of it didn't have much that could go wrong, but there was one part that was still up for grabs.  The plan was to head down Gooseberry trail to the shelf below the Island, then walk around on the 4x4 road to Murphy's trail and go up that.  Murphy's was the trail I did this day, so I knew I could do that, and the 4x4 road was, well, a road.  But the trail down, this 'Gooseberry' was reputed to be the hardest trail, and most dangerous one in the park.  It wasn't really dangerous in the summer, or so I was told, but winter is different (as I had adequately discovered in Needles).

All the ranger could tell me was that it could be treacherous, no one had done it yet this season, but they also hadn't closed it (though since no one had seen it I don't know what they were basing their choice on). All this added on to the fact that I had injured my knee, and revived the stress-fracture I got in my left foot years ago on my mission.  Which wouldn't kill me but I knew if I couldn't make it back from my loop there would be no one out there for weeks to find me so I needed to make sure I could go the whole way.  The 26 mile loop wasn't that daunting but there were concerns.  With less light in the Winter, injuries, and hazardous trails you never knew.  Still it was to be my last walk and I decided to go for it.

That night I slept in my car.  It was not very comfortable, and it got very cold, the water bottle next to me froze pretty darn quickly and I ended up without much sleep.  But enough rest because I was ready to go in the morning for my adventure.