Utah may be well on its way to becoming my favorite state. Snowboarding was simply the layer of ice cream before the toppings really start coming into vie for your taste buds' attention. In the last few days, I've stayed at a Deadhead commune - complete with natural hot springs - learned to earn the respect of the Utah desert, and more importantly, gained an immense sense appreciation for my own mortality.
After finding my body, and more or less my mind, still in tact post Angel's Landing, I may have become too big for my britches. Any hike in comparison seemed infantile. Thus, after a day spent melting into the cedar floors of Honey in the 80 degree heat in Moab, I decided the next day would be spent enjoying the great sandy floors of the desert. With an early start, we found a superior campground, complete with minimal cell service and outhouses with a door and roof. Eyore and I scurried along Park Ave in Arches National Park, believing this two mile hike would be enough for one day.
We returned to Honey with the intention to admire Castleton Tower, a legendary climbing wall which sits atop a deceivingly steep mountain. Thinking we would just gaze at the tower from below, Eyore and I set off on the trail which almost immediately required some climbing in lieu of a simple one foot in front of the other. I promptly fell and tweaked my wrist. Carrying on, the tower didn't seem to be too far away. I continued to tell myself such invalid information for at least an hour as we traversed the rocky land, often loosing the trail. I sought out kirins which took the place of any formal trail marker and proceeded to add rocks to the top of the tiny towers, hoping the next shmuck wouldn't lose their way as much as I had.
^^^Kirin
Oh wait, how could I forget?! There was a wind advisory in affect. That deafening sound that made me question a waterfall's existence in the desert turned out to be gusts of wind strangling the imperious Castleton Tower. Closing in at the top, I met the only other person crazy enough to climb this hike in a wind storm. Thackeray and I embarked on the last few traverses along a Billy goat trail edged into rolling pebbles and cracking rock. When we breached the ridge, I was once again met with shear drops on either side. To put the intensity of this situation into perspective, I was blown to the ground trying to take a picture of Thackeray. Literally blown over. I crawled to the base of the tower in an effort to remain alive long enough to document our triumph. As Eyore bounded back down the mountain in front of me, I wistfully remembered when I, too, was 14 and bursting with energy (dog years, people). On our way back to the campground, we cooled down with a dip in the Colorado River. I woke up with dried mud in my bed with the remnants still clinging to my spine.
Day three in Moab proved to be a sore reminder of the previous day's exertion. I'm realizing that my lack of planning is taking a toll on my body. I began our hike with the intent of an easy breezy three mile hike. This soon exceeded seven miles. On our return through the looming canyons and criver (creek + river), my stomach decided to join the party as a talkative participant. I found myself singing, "I'm gonna eat a big burger and some fries," to the tune of "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves." I think the desert heat is going to my head.
I threw Honey into drive and meandered into the town's main hub, seeking out the Moab Brewery.
Needless to say, I just finished an entire burger and I'm waiting out my digestive tract to fit in some gelato.
