I wasn't sure if I would be working today, and as it turned out, I did, which meant I only had time to continue talking about my vacation. I should have time for a real post tomorrow. Ah, what the heck; I'll write a poem too. It can double as my observation. And I'll pretend my writing prompt is to write a story as though you had just gotten back from your ideal vacation.
A Shower
I am never so grateful to be unincarcerted
As when I drop the soap in the shower.
It happens frequently enough
That I'm sure I would be popular
For all the wrong reasons
My clumsy hands no cage for slippery things
But today, as I endeavor to clean my ears
My fingers form a seal
And I am left in my own world
An isolation box filled with the echoes
Of drumming drops.
Me:
Picking up where I left off, we drove toward Zion and camped west of the park. We found camping at a state park, which was fifteen dollars night, but the fact that it was on a beach was a major redeeming factor. We woke up and weren't in much of a hurry. Well, I wasn't in much of a hurry. See, we knew we were going to be hiking the Narrows, which is an upriver jaunt through icy waters, but I knew the earlier we got there the colder it would be. As much as I tried to convey this fact, Rebecca's excitement remained undaunted. So we packed leisurely and ate some breakfast, and still somehow made it into the water before 10:00. And, as predicted, it was COLD. My feet numbed pretty quickly, and my legs are pretty used to the temperature, but the first section of any difficulty had us up to our chests. And then I took a step in the wrong direction and found myself afloat. So I drifted downstream a ways, and gradually made my way back up to the deep section, confident that if Rebecca had not still had an unwavering smile on her face I would have waited for another occasion to try this hike. We made it through, of course, and kept going for a number of miles, stopping to warm up every so often on convenient sandbars.
Unbeknownst to me, these stops were not enough. We made it to a convenient point and took an extended break in an attempt to stop the full-body shaking that had taken over Rebecca during a particularly long section of waist-high (or deeper) water. A bit of lunch was consumed, and it must have been half an hour before we decided it was decision time. There was a fork in the river, and the tentative plan was to explore the side canyon for a bit and make another decision in a while. However, upon taking a few steps up the shallower canyon, we saw that no more than twenty meters up the way it included a quite-large, quite deep pool, so we turned around. Rebecca, still shivering, said we could keep going, but I was having none of that. She looked to be on the verge of hypothermia, and I don't regret the decision at all. Besides, we had a lot of fun on the way downstream. The sun had started to make its way to the bottom of most of the canyon, so we were quite a bit warmer as we started moving again. So much warmer, in fact, that Rebecca's regained enthusiasm resulted in some floating in the current. While unable to do this for a very prolonged period of time (due both to terrain and the threat of pneumonia), it was quite amusing.
By the time we reached that initial deep section, the cold had set in again, so we called it quits at the trailhead and caught the shuttle back down to the visitor's center. We bought some postcards and a small image calendar as souvenirs, and started driving back east. Luckily, east of Zion is not only home, but also Mesa Verde (and Great Sand Dunes, come to think of it). We pulled into a campground rather late, and I will pick up the story soon.
July 7, 2011
July 6, 2011
Elbow Chapstick is a Metaphoric Traffic Accident for a Venemous Trip
Sharing
Asked if I want chapstick
since it has a built-in protection
from the sun, keeping lips rosy
and a bit greasy
more likely to stick together
when pursed, and with a residue
of whiteness for wiping on your sleeve
when the wind leaves them slightly dry.
I have no interest in the stuff from the stick
but I'll sample some already applied
spread thinner, so I don't notice right away
and only after I've turned away
to continue up the bright reflection
of path ahead do I realize
as my lips come together
we've shared so much
more than whiteness
later smeared on my shirt sleeve.
Poem:
Ah, hiking. What fun! And why apply sunscreen-chapstick from the stick when lips are so much more fun to press together? Granted, I didn't wear that much chapstick this vacation (my lips seemed to be holding up pretty well), but the stuff I did wear seemed to help. It's so annoying how it dries out though. I guess maybe part of the reason my lips held up was because Rebecca was wearing plenty of chapstick, and I'm sure I stole some along with the kisses I nabbed.
Observation:
I seem prone to injure myself when trying to be humorous with my gestures. A couple years ago I was mocking my sister and crashed my bike in the process. Yesterday I was mimicking a rowing motion when I drilled my elbow into a rock table. I was instantly unable to feel anything below the elbow joint, and upon regaining feeling (a process that took a few minutes) I was pretty sure I preferred it numb. It was excruciating. I couldn't really bend my arm effectively until late this afternoon. And I even iced it last night. A sure sign something is pretty wrong with me is if I am icing. I'm terrible about it. I know it's a good idea, but I just don't do it. Yesterday was a bit scary, though. For a short while I thought I might have done something that might remain as a serious injury. I'm more optimistic today. Perhaps riding my bike on my newly-injured appendage wasn't the best idea, but I figured I wouldn't be bending my arm much. Well, while true, that was not quite accurate, since it continued to hurt whether or not I was bending it. You'd think the moral of this story would be to stop mimicking people, but I doubt it's sunk in. After all, my scrapes healed after my bike crash, and my elbow is bending already. I'm going to need a bit of a bigger threat to stop making fun of people.
Exercise:
Begin a story with "There was once a chance I didn't take..."
There was once a chance I didn't take. From the distance it looked like a modest tumbleweed as it rolled forward, but it picked up speed as it neared. So I stood in the path of the rushing future, braced and digging in my heels. It was a game of chicken, and I vowed I wouldn't flinch. The crux bore down on me, growing as it neared, and at the last second, of its own accord, my body flung itself to the side. I landed in the safe ditch of mediocrity as the seeming-semi barreled by. And when that one slipped by so easily, so naturally, the chances fled past in rush hour traffic, with no breaks into which I could interject.
Me:
I am officially back from vacation. I was unofficially back yesterday, but I returned at four in the morning, slept in, and then had to fit two bike rides, unpacking, and Fourth of July celebrations into the remaining hours. So today is the first real day I am back. And I have an entire week's trip to write about. So rather than include a veritable novel all at once, I'll just write about the last few days, since that's what I remember the best. And I'll go back to the beginning stuff later if I remember enough of it.
So I'll start with Thursday, because it was probably the most exciting day as far as events go. To set the scene, we had driven 8 miles down a rough gravel road in my Ford Fusion, which wasn't thrilled with the idea, but performed admirably the entire trip. (I believe I shall have to reward it with an oil change and a thorough cleaning.) Unfortunately, at the last occasion we had to fill our water, we neglected to fill all our available containers, so we spent the night thinking of ways to conserve what we had. Basically, we ate a bunch of fruit (of both the canned and fresh varieties.) So we had as much water as we were used to by the time morning rolled around. I carried a three liter camelbak, as well as a large and small bottle stuffed in its pockets.
We woke up and started packing so as to utilize the morning's coolness only to be approached by the only other person at the campground. Ever one to avoid interaction, I was instantly on the defensive. But this invasion was brought on by desperation. She said her spare tire was flat and inquired if we had anything which might help. I initially and reflexively answered no. But that was not strictly true. So with a "wait a minute," I said I actually had a bike pump and leapt into action. I was the hero of the morning for sure. And that was only the beginning of my heroics. We left for the trailhead down the gravel road, and because it was less than a mile away my car only threatened to fall apart once or twice. The trail was boring for the first mile or so, during which time we were just making our way to the canyon we would be exploring. In case you've never heard of Buckskin Gulch (understandable), it is the longest slot canyon around. It stretches upward of 12 miles, making it a bit longer than we anticipated having time for. I'll get some pictures of it up as soon as I get them off my camera, but you'll just have to take my word for it when I say it is an incredible place to hike. The walls seem to close in over your head with their height and the narrow, constricting canyon. The sun seeps in sometimes, turning the red rock into a bright, vibrant display of color. The flash floods that shape the canyon leave it in sharp wavy contours, and each turn offers new lighting and a different glimpse out to the pure azure sky. All in all, you are never looking down. Which, it just so happens, is the direction you want to be looking if you'd like to notice rattlesnakes.
We happened upon one around five miles in to our hike, and I was startled, which suddenly transformed into fear once I realized exactly what was going on. The events went down like this:
I heard a low hissing/rattling.
I grabbed Rebecca's arm and yanked her back while jumping back myself and uttering some not-so-nice things.
I see the rattlesnake a few feet from where I had been about to walk, re-secure my grip on Rebecca's arm, and force us a few more steps back.
Rebecca realizes she is quite afraid of snakes.
Rebecca starts gasping a bit and looks quite unhappy.
I realize Rebecca is quite afraid of snakes.
We wait for the snake to slither under the rock wall and edge past slowly.
Rebecca decides I saved the day.
Having saved the day twice now, I make sure to blemish my good name quite quickly after so as to keep expectations low. We find a snakeskin on the ground, and I pick it up and briefly chase Rebecca. Interestingly, this is the first time either of us knew how unhappy snakes make her. We encountered the snake on our way back out of the canyon (we turned around about six miles in, I think), which was again a bit of an event. I snapped some pictures, and we snuck by. A short while later we ran into some people headed down the trail, and they asked about snakes. I said there was one down the trail a short way, and they said they had already found one as well. This was news to us. We had obviously come from that direction and missed it. Which made us both happy and scared. Who knows how close we had come to that snake? Anyway, the walk back out was much less fun than the walk in. It is much harder to appreciate your surroundings (even the most beautiful ones) when you are checking every shadow for the faint outline of a snake.
From Buckskin Gulch we headed toward Zion National Park, which is where I shall resume talking tomorrow. The entire vacation was amazing, and I had a great time. The western United States never fails to make me happy. And sharing it with someone makes it even better.
Thanks, as always, for reading. Sorry for the hiatus, but I'm happy to say I'm back and plan on staying back for a while.
Asked if I want chapstick
since it has a built-in protection
from the sun, keeping lips rosy
and a bit greasy
more likely to stick together
when pursed, and with a residue
of whiteness for wiping on your sleeve
when the wind leaves them slightly dry.
I have no interest in the stuff from the stick
but I'll sample some already applied
spread thinner, so I don't notice right away
and only after I've turned away
to continue up the bright reflection
of path ahead do I realize
as my lips come together
we've shared so much
more than whiteness
later smeared on my shirt sleeve.
Poem:
Ah, hiking. What fun! And why apply sunscreen-chapstick from the stick when lips are so much more fun to press together? Granted, I didn't wear that much chapstick this vacation (my lips seemed to be holding up pretty well), but the stuff I did wear seemed to help. It's so annoying how it dries out though. I guess maybe part of the reason my lips held up was because Rebecca was wearing plenty of chapstick, and I'm sure I stole some along with the kisses I nabbed.
Observation:
I seem prone to injure myself when trying to be humorous with my gestures. A couple years ago I was mocking my sister and crashed my bike in the process. Yesterday I was mimicking a rowing motion when I drilled my elbow into a rock table. I was instantly unable to feel anything below the elbow joint, and upon regaining feeling (a process that took a few minutes) I was pretty sure I preferred it numb. It was excruciating. I couldn't really bend my arm effectively until late this afternoon. And I even iced it last night. A sure sign something is pretty wrong with me is if I am icing. I'm terrible about it. I know it's a good idea, but I just don't do it. Yesterday was a bit scary, though. For a short while I thought I might have done something that might remain as a serious injury. I'm more optimistic today. Perhaps riding my bike on my newly-injured appendage wasn't the best idea, but I figured I wouldn't be bending my arm much. Well, while true, that was not quite accurate, since it continued to hurt whether or not I was bending it. You'd think the moral of this story would be to stop mimicking people, but I doubt it's sunk in. After all, my scrapes healed after my bike crash, and my elbow is bending already. I'm going to need a bit of a bigger threat to stop making fun of people.
Exercise:
Begin a story with "There was once a chance I didn't take..."
There was once a chance I didn't take. From the distance it looked like a modest tumbleweed as it rolled forward, but it picked up speed as it neared. So I stood in the path of the rushing future, braced and digging in my heels. It was a game of chicken, and I vowed I wouldn't flinch. The crux bore down on me, growing as it neared, and at the last second, of its own accord, my body flung itself to the side. I landed in the safe ditch of mediocrity as the seeming-semi barreled by. And when that one slipped by so easily, so naturally, the chances fled past in rush hour traffic, with no breaks into which I could interject.
Me:
I am officially back from vacation. I was unofficially back yesterday, but I returned at four in the morning, slept in, and then had to fit two bike rides, unpacking, and Fourth of July celebrations into the remaining hours. So today is the first real day I am back. And I have an entire week's trip to write about. So rather than include a veritable novel all at once, I'll just write about the last few days, since that's what I remember the best. And I'll go back to the beginning stuff later if I remember enough of it.
So I'll start with Thursday, because it was probably the most exciting day as far as events go. To set the scene, we had driven 8 miles down a rough gravel road in my Ford Fusion, which wasn't thrilled with the idea, but performed admirably the entire trip. (I believe I shall have to reward it with an oil change and a thorough cleaning.) Unfortunately, at the last occasion we had to fill our water, we neglected to fill all our available containers, so we spent the night thinking of ways to conserve what we had. Basically, we ate a bunch of fruit (of both the canned and fresh varieties.) So we had as much water as we were used to by the time morning rolled around. I carried a three liter camelbak, as well as a large and small bottle stuffed in its pockets.
We woke up and started packing so as to utilize the morning's coolness only to be approached by the only other person at the campground. Ever one to avoid interaction, I was instantly on the defensive. But this invasion was brought on by desperation. She said her spare tire was flat and inquired if we had anything which might help. I initially and reflexively answered no. But that was not strictly true. So with a "wait a minute," I said I actually had a bike pump and leapt into action. I was the hero of the morning for sure. And that was only the beginning of my heroics. We left for the trailhead down the gravel road, and because it was less than a mile away my car only threatened to fall apart once or twice. The trail was boring for the first mile or so, during which time we were just making our way to the canyon we would be exploring. In case you've never heard of Buckskin Gulch (understandable), it is the longest slot canyon around. It stretches upward of 12 miles, making it a bit longer than we anticipated having time for. I'll get some pictures of it up as soon as I get them off my camera, but you'll just have to take my word for it when I say it is an incredible place to hike. The walls seem to close in over your head with their height and the narrow, constricting canyon. The sun seeps in sometimes, turning the red rock into a bright, vibrant display of color. The flash floods that shape the canyon leave it in sharp wavy contours, and each turn offers new lighting and a different glimpse out to the pure azure sky. All in all, you are never looking down. Which, it just so happens, is the direction you want to be looking if you'd like to notice rattlesnakes.
We happened upon one around five miles in to our hike, and I was startled, which suddenly transformed into fear once I realized exactly what was going on. The events went down like this:
I heard a low hissing/rattling.
I grabbed Rebecca's arm and yanked her back while jumping back myself and uttering some not-so-nice things.
I see the rattlesnake a few feet from where I had been about to walk, re-secure my grip on Rebecca's arm, and force us a few more steps back.
Rebecca realizes she is quite afraid of snakes.
Rebecca starts gasping a bit and looks quite unhappy.
I realize Rebecca is quite afraid of snakes.
We wait for the snake to slither under the rock wall and edge past slowly.
Rebecca decides I saved the day.
Having saved the day twice now, I make sure to blemish my good name quite quickly after so as to keep expectations low. We find a snakeskin on the ground, and I pick it up and briefly chase Rebecca. Interestingly, this is the first time either of us knew how unhappy snakes make her. We encountered the snake on our way back out of the canyon (we turned around about six miles in, I think), which was again a bit of an event. I snapped some pictures, and we snuck by. A short while later we ran into some people headed down the trail, and they asked about snakes. I said there was one down the trail a short way, and they said they had already found one as well. This was news to us. We had obviously come from that direction and missed it. Which made us both happy and scared. Who knows how close we had come to that snake? Anyway, the walk back out was much less fun than the walk in. It is much harder to appreciate your surroundings (even the most beautiful ones) when you are checking every shadow for the faint outline of a snake.
From Buckskin Gulch we headed toward Zion National Park, which is where I shall resume talking tomorrow. The entire vacation was amazing, and I had a great time. The western United States never fails to make me happy. And sharing it with someone makes it even better.
Thanks, as always, for reading. Sorry for the hiatus, but I'm happy to say I'm back and plan on staying back for a while.
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