48.) Wildlife Rituals......Outlaw Hideouts......and Unmitigated Kindness

    I camped out in the desert just outside Capitol Reef last night. It was nice to have a night in the tent where I can really stretch out. It gets a little cramped in the back of the Jeep, but my tent has quickly changed from blessing to curse in the desert’s morning winds. They gust so strong that I am unable to properly break down camp by myself. I resort to disassembling the tent poles, wadding up the whole mess and jamming it into the back of the jeep. Out of the wide open desert and into the relative shelter of the park, I’m able to breakdown and stow the tent properly, but its an irritating way to start the day. 

I’m not terribly sore from the 10 miles I hiked yesterday evening and I think of that word again…Progress. It’s a good feeling.  

I’ve been in Capitol Reef for a few days now and I’ve grown very fond of a certain picnic area I've found.  It’s a lovely little grove of cottonwood trees stretched across a lush green lawn.  The Western face of the Water Pocket Fold soars above the tree tops just across the street.  Red, maroon, mauve….and straight up.  The shade and the scenery make it my go to spot for cooking meals and consulting trail maps, despite being marred by power lines cutting through the middle of the park.

 

I've made chicken and broccoli pasta for dinner this evening and while its on the stove I walk down a short trail to the stream that skirts the park's edge to take a leak. When I look up I lock eyes with a deer on the streams far bank. I’m startled at first but we stare in silence at each other for a moment and then we part ways. I head back down the trail and when I step back into the picnic area I freeze.  A dozen more deer are grazing at he far end of the park.  As, I cook they slowly but efficiently work their way across the lawn without missing a spot. I imagine it’s become a nightly ritual for them, looking for people food. I watch them finish their dinner as I finish my own and think, it’s these kind of surprise moments that this trip is supposed to be about. Those little things that happen out of the blue and touch the heart, the moments that can't be planned. The silence and serenity I experience as these little creatures comb the grass for snacks cannot be manufactured and injected into an energy drink or a fruit chew, but I imagine it can be equally addicting.    

    The drive to Sunset Point is a scenic one, and the view from the point is awe inspiring but the sunset tonight is kind of a weak one, but hey. They can’t I’ll be perfect.

     

     Three and a half miles of steep switchbacks and stairs cut right into the stone gets me to the top of the Cassidy Arch Trail. Named as such because it’s rumored that Butch Cassidy had a hideout somewhere in these canyons. Seems like good hideout territory to me. It’s at the western end of Capitol Reef NP and I had to pilot the Jeep down a long, dirt road into a canyon just to reach the trailhead.

 Now, at the peak, I find the highest point to take in the view and engage in some quiet meditation.  And also to get some sun on my pasty white thighs. The drive in and the hike up are well worth the view and results in a few of my favorite pictures so far. I crawl on hands and knees as close to the cliffs edge as my nerves will allow. This is my favorite part of hiking I think. When you reach the viewpoint, or the top of whatever you maybe hiking up or to. It’s the quiet moments of contemplation, where I can be alone in the world and really have the time to take it all in, as they say. 

These were the kind of moments I was looking for back when this trip was just an idea…..a “maybe some day” kind of dream. They’ve been abundant to say the least, and for that I’m grateful.  But there are other moments too, ones that I wasn’t looking for but have had an impact on me none the less. The moments involving people…..perish the thought, I know. People? Ugh, I’ve never really been a fan. And not just people, complete strangers in fact.  I stumble into one of those kind when I cruise into a bar just outside Capitol Reef called The Patio, to watch the Hawks game.

Derek is behind the bar when I walk into the nearly deserted place. He’s a friendly chap. Puts on the hockey game for me and pours me a beer. We get to chatting and I give him a short version of what I’m doing. He says he's from Pittsburg and did something similar when he first made his way out west. A kindred spirits sort of thing I think, and he asks if I’m hungry. “A little, I guess,” I say with a shrug, “but I’m kinda broke. Beers during the hockey game are a luxury I think I’ve earned from all my miles hiked, but I probably shouldn't be spending my money on them. I've probably got a can or pouch of freeze dried something or other in the car I can make for dinner later.”  

“I feel ya,” he says and disappears back into the kitchen. I turn my attention back to hockey but Derek emerges from the back and slaps 2 huge pizza slices on the bar in front of me. “On the house,” he says with a nod.  

“For real!? Oh my god man, thank you!”  It’s just a couple of pizza slices but it’s the gesture itself that’s touching. It doesn't benefit him in anyway. He has nothing to gain, all he had was an opportunity to spread kindness. To be human to another human and moments like this are just as moving as those I’ve had alone in the desert at the cliff’s edge. I scarf the slices like a raccoon in a dumpster and order another beer to wash them down. Wiping my face, out of breath I utter another heart felt thank you.  “No sweat man, are you still hungry?”

“I couldn’t,” is say with palms out in an I surrender gesture.  

“You sure? That pizza back there is a mistake, and I’ve already eaten, so it’s just gonna get thrown out if you don’t want anymore.”

My eyes widen, “Well, that seems sorta wasteful,” I say with a smile, and Derek chuckles as he heads back into the kitchen. He’s back a few minuets later with 4 more huge slices on a paper plate that he covers in tin foil. 

“Take em with you, save em for later. Whatever ya want, better than just tossing em.”  I can hardly believe his kindness, and thank him profusely. It’s not this grand, out of this world gesture—like I said it’s just few slices of pizza—but feeding someone who is hungry is one of the kindest gesture one can make, in my opinion. There nobility in providing a basic human need, especially when there’s nothing to be gained.  

I eat one more slice on the spot, with my belly full and my next meal already taken care of to the tune of 3 more slices, I figure I can afford another beer or two. I nurse them through the rest of the hockey game and continue my chat with Derek. I tell him the direction I’m headed next and he tells me about a hidden waterfall, 127 feet high. He says it’s just passed a certain mile marker and down a trail at the back of a campground. I struggle remember the specifics, by this point I’m well passed buzzed, and quickly approaching tipsy. When Derek gives me my tab, he’s only charged me for one beer. I thank him again, and on my walk out to the car I realize I’m much drunker than I thought. So drunk in fact that I end up car camping in the parking lot.

47.) Lesser Known Parks.....Earth Wrinkles.....and Progress!

Capitol Reef is a national park I haven't heard much about.  Nothing really.  It’s never been on my radar, never done any research on it, never even heard of it to tell you the truth.  It’s just the next park in line on my slow plod out west.  When I pull into the park the first thing that strikes me is the small creek running along the rode side. I get excited at the prospect of washing myself. Up to this point, personal hygiene has not been on the forefront of pressing matters, but the Jeep is starting to get gamey….probably the ravens played a part in that. In the visitors center a ranger informs me that the creek is rife with E.coli, so it appears I’ll remain au natural for the time being.  

The E.coli creek runs along the base of an ominous cliff wall.  A lighter tan, sandy color now, rather than the pinks and reds I have become accustomed to. I learn that this wall is referred to as the Water Pocket Fold. It was buried deep within the earth until two continental plates collided and buckled under the pressure. The result is a 100 mile long wall of solid rock, a geologic earth wrinkle. I forgo the main campground because I get word of more dispersed camping in a more remote park or the park. It’s more primitive than the main campground,  there’s not any water available, but I’ll have a picnic table and a fire pit. To me that is luxurious, and the fact that it’s free makes it that much sweeter. And with a free place to set up an HQ, I can take my time, and really explore the park.  

     I do a little over 2 miles on the Hickman Bridge trail. It’s trailhead if just off the road that I drove in on, but once I get up and over the first ridge, the one that makes the 100 mile water pocket fold, the landscape is shockingly impressive.  The Hickman is a natural rock bridge over 120 feet high.  It spans the canyon I’m in, and everything is solid rock, the bridge, both sides of the canyon, everything. Even the trees and foliage seem go grow right out of the rocks.  And my favorite part, no one else is around. I’m completely alone, a perk of the lesser known parks I suppose.

Around 5:30 I set out on the Sulfur Creek Trail.  I start out on a dry wash and head through flat desert scrub brush, until I reach the creek, which I ford a few times, back and forth. It’s not deep or wide, so I’m able to amble across on a few steping stones with the help of my walking stick and keep my boots dry. I’m still very much pro-walking stick, but I’ve strapped a pair of crocs to my camelback just in case I gotta get wet.

     The cliffs climb skyward as the creek descends into a canyon. It’s only a few feet wide and it funnels the small braids of the creek into a full fledged river now. I reach the first water fall, where I scale the slick rock and up over a huge log to reach the bottom. My feet remain dry until I reach the section called The Narrows, the water stretches the entire width of the canyon floor and I have no choice but to step in the river. I don my crocs, hang hang my boots around my neck and slosh forward, deeper into the canyon.

     In some places the river has undercut the canyon walls creating massive rock overhangs deep enough for me to walk into.  The ribbon of blue sky I can see over the canyon rim contrasts nicely with the sandy colored walls. I stop for a moment to look back to see what I’ve already hiked through. It’s breathtaking an I make an effort to soak it all in.  It’s a very peaceful scene until I realize that I’m sorta trapped in this canyon. My only options are to continue on until I reach the end of the canyon, or retreat back the way I came. I’m enjoying myself too much to give the thought of retreat any real consideration so I continue on my way.  

I reach the last waterfall, the largest on the trail at about 8 feet tall.  It’s high enough to force me to down climb, much too treacherous for a simple jump down. Luckily someone has stood a long up on its end and leaned it up against the rock wall I need to climb down. I’m able to place on foot, still in it’s croc, on the top end of the long to get me started, but the log has been washed here by the water, so its bark-less, and branchless. My wet crocs lose traction and I begin to slide. There’s nothing I can do but go with it. I slide down the naked long and stick the landing in the loose gravel at the waterfalls base. I take a deep breath and dust myself off. That coulda gotten real ugly real fast, had I broken an ankle or twisted a knee, that woulda been the end of me and my trip. No one knows I’m out in this particular canyon, I would just have to hope I could survive long enough for someone to eventually come along and lend a hand. But all my joints are still functioning and I’m able to press on.

 

I’m beginning to get nervous about daylight.  Starting a 5 mile hike around 5:30 should not have been a problem. The map looked pretty straightforward when I consulted it at the trailhead. Just follow the creek and eventually it leads right back to the visitors center, roughly 5 miles. In reality it’s much farther than that, and the rugged landscape is taking longer to traverse than I anticipated, but with no real choice in the matter I continue on my way in hopes of reaching the end of the canyon before dark. Every time the canyon wall seem to be dropping and I sense the canyon opening up, I reach the next bend and it just keeps going. I keep my wits about me enough to finally emerge from the canyon and make it back to the road around 8:30, just in time, but since this trail isn’t a loop, I have to hike the 3 miles back down the road to where the jeep is parked. I stick my thumb out at the few cars that pass me but no one stops. In their defense, it’s getting pretty dark, we’re in the middle of the desert, and I look like a hobo, so I continue to plod ever forward, taking in the darkening sky. With no light pollution out here, the stars are ridiculous. Millions of them, everywhere. No open spots anywhere in the sky, it's literally blanketed with them. Too many for me to believe that here on earth is the only place intelligent life has evolved. With that much going on, we can’t be alone.  Eventually, I make it back to the Jeep where I sit on the back bumper to remove my boots and consult my GPS. Turns out this was my longest single hike to date, and probably my favorite as well. 10.8 miles when it's all over, and I don't fell like I’m going to die. The last thing I write in my note book before crashing for the night is a single word…..Progress!

46.) Rest Stop James....Needles......and Conspiracies....

   It’s luxurious, as far as rest stops go. Not only does it have the requisite rest stop building with bathrooms, maps, and snack machines but outside it’s surrounded by a pretty, manicured lawn with several picnic table scattered throughout, and a few trees to provide shade; along with the huge pinkish rock wall that rises behind the park, it makes for a pretty stellar place to wake up in the morning. I set my camp stove up on one of the picnic tables to make coffee and here’s where I meet Rest Stop James.

He’s milling about raking leaves, changing garbage bags, weed whacking while I make my coffee. I tip my cup to him when he glances in my direction and he eventually ambles over to introduce himself. James is a 68 year old retired grounds keeper/janitor. For the past 10 years he’s been paid 9 bucks an hour to shovel snow and mow the grass here at this rest stop. “Keep it up man, the place looks great” I tell him, then about my trip when he asks and we fall into comfortable conversation. He lost the first 38 years of his adult life to booze, is how he puts it. Back then he would drive the truck that delivered blood to hospitals and blood banks. The bags of blood were always packed in dry ice to preserve it in route. James found that the dry ice would do the same for a six pack of PBR, so he always had one jammed into one of the coolers with a few blood bags on top to hide it. It’s a good story and he’s full of them. He rattles them off as he leads me to the back of the building where he loads a small glass pipe with weed and offers it to me. I graciously accept and continue to listen as I spark up. James has lived in Texas, West Virginia, Georgia, all over the place. He can tell me every turn one must make along the route from West Virginia all they way to Moab, Utah. He enjoys his little spot in the world here at the rest stop on highway 191. It stretches form Canada all the way to Mexico, you know? So he gets to meet people from everywhere. It’s the type of chance encounter I really enjoy, and not just because I got to smoke free pot. James seems sweet and wise……and strong too, considering his battle with the bottle. I shake his hand and thank him dearly on my way out, but before I begin the drive to my next park I scribble a few of my favorite quotes from our conversation. 

When I told him about my trip, and my anxiety about how it might not be the right thing to be doing, his response was “Why not!? Columbus took a chance!”  His take on growing older is “I got young blood, it’s just got an old package.” And one of his favorites, I could tell because it was said with pride while we were smoking behind the rest stop, “God made weed, man made booze…..Which one do you choose?”  I think you chose right James, well played. 

The Colorado and Green rivers meet here in Utah and the deep canyons that house them separate Canyonlands National Park into three parts and the area is so remote that no roads lead all the way through. My stay at the rest stop and my meeting Rest Stop James occurred while I was in route from the Island in the Sky section to the Needles section. The two are right next to each other, separated only by the canyons but it takes 34 miles to drive from one to the other. Vast like outer space.

 

When I arrive in the Needles district I’m much lower, physically speaking, and looking back up at the cliffs that form the Island in the Sky. This section, The Needles, is named for the rock formations that are abundant here. Lines of tall rock cylinders, rising out of the desert floor. I guess I can see the flimsy connection between them and needles, but it's a stretch. There’s also fatter rock formations with rounded tops that sort of resemble mushrooms, so who knows who gets to name these kinda places.

Needles!?.....I guess...

I hike a small loop called Pothole Point to have a look around. It’s all slick rock dotted with hundreds of potholes surrounding the trail, each filled with rain water springing entire ecosystems. Don’t touch the water they say, but I forget if it was because it can upset the entire self contained pothole ecosystem or because it can make you really sick. Always the Boy Scout, I chose against a soak.
     I break for lunch in a deserted picnic area just off the main park road. I carry my food box over to a picnic table and return to the car for my camp stove. Now I’m parked maybe 50 yards away from my picnic table, maybe even closer, the point is it isn't terribly far. But by the time I’ve retrieved my stove from the Jeep and turned back, a dozen huge ravens fight for space on the table top, pecking through my box of food and at each other. I run and scare them off before they can make off with anything, but they were fuckin’ huge, jet black, evil looking things. The incident is funny but a little spooky at the same time, how fast they showed up. I just shake off the spooky and sit down to fix myself a meal. While I'm rummaging through my provisions a minivan pulls into the lot and parks between my Jeep and where I’m sitting now, blocking my sightline. I think nothing of it and continue to fire up my stove. The man in the van seems to consult a map and then begins to reverse, like he's just turning around. In the middle of this maneuver he looks my way and rolls down his window. Leaning out, in what I believe to be a Russian, maybe Austrian accent he shouts toward me “Uh, Sir?” I look up and raise my eyebrows at him in a yeah-whats-up sort of gesture and he continues, “Zare ah ravenz in yo ca.” It takes me a second to decipher what he’s saying but after I do, I’m up and shuffling a few yards away from the table so I can see around his van to the Jeep. Sure enough, I left all the windows plus the sunroof open and there 5 or six of the ornery bastards perched on my hood and roof rack. Three more are actually IN the jeep yanking at my blankets, tools, and other personal effects. “What the fuck!” I laugh as I run at them, flailing wildly. “Get outta here, ya animals. Ah, for christ sake.” Their chatter as the fly off sounds like laughter, I brandish my fist and curse them like a grumpy old man. I shake my head in stunned disbelief at the man in the van, all shrugging shoulders and upturned palms, and I thank him. “No probe-lom” he mutters with a giggle and pulls back out of the parking lot.  

The departure of his van is like the shot on a game show where they reveal the prize. The door slides slowly open and it’s a brand…new….car….the crowd goes wild. The Russian's/Austrian's van acts as the door in this case and reveals my picnic table with my box of food on it is now completely covered in more damn ravens. Clever little fuckers aren't they? I secure all windows and sunroofs in the jeep and then run back over to the table to scare them off again before they get their filthy beaks on anything of value.  

After, I eat my lunch with a conspiracy of ravens milling about nearby. That's really what a group of ravens is called...I looked it up...."a conspiracy of ravens". Google says it's also  sometimes referred to as "an unkindness of ravens" which I might like even better! Seems apt, considering how stupid the greedy little fuckers made me look today.

 Man, remember when you still had to wonder things? Google has made wonder obsolete.

   I head back towards the highway. For some reason I feel like the Canyonlands is the least impressive park I’ve been to yet. But that opinion waivers a bit on the drive out. The road, the same one I came in on, is flanked on both side by massive flat-topped buttes. It’s a beautifully rugged, unforgiving terrain, and driving back through it, actually noticing it this time, endears the Canyonlands to me a bit more, but I'm still headed out to my next park.

45.) View Spoiled....Vast Upheaval....Whale Rock....

     I land in Canyonlands National Park the next morning, my first stop is the section of the park known as The Island in the Sky. The wide open view, hundreds of miles of undeveloped land is reassuring to me; in that we, as people, haven't had a chance to ruin everything….yet. But I think I’m becoming a bit spoiled when it comes to viewpoints and overlooks.  The view over the canyon lands is gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, it’s the establishing shot in a old western flick, and when the heavy mist settles into the canyons obscuring everything except the flat toped bluffs, its easy to see where the name Island in the Sky came from; but after spending so much time at the Grand Canyon so recently, it’s less emotionally jarring than it would have been had I come here first. I still find it somehow soothing though.

It’s nearly a 2 mile round trip on the White Rim Overlook Trail through the familiar desert scrub brush. It leads me to a cliff’s edge at very tip of a peninsula that juts out over the desert floor hundreds of feet below. I look out and realize that I’m now standing on part of the island in the sky. The rock formations are different than the ones I saw in the Grand Canyon. Towers, spires, pinnacles, whatever you want to call them look small from here, but the tallest actually tops out at 305 feet.

From where I stand I can picture a downpour of rain and the runoff it creates flowing down the hillsides and how all that water, over billions of years, would result in the landscape I’m looking at now, and once again think about the time it takes to create something as magnificent as this.  The vastness of the place, in terms of physical size of course, I can see for hundreds of miles, but also the vastness of the timeline you need to grasp when considering the creation of a place like this. That’s why the desert makes us feel small and insignificant….maybe. That feeling can be soul crushing, paralysis inducing, nothing I do matters so why bother doing anything at all.  That’s the thought most people, myself included come to, but upon further inspection I think it can be sort of liberating.  There are forces in the world that are bigger than you, stronger than any of us. They are going to continue regardless of your, or my, level of involvement. There is literally nothing we can do about it so why burden yourself with the negative thoughts and just do what you please. 

     I was listening to an old George Carlin stand up routine recently where he says that people are arrogant when they talk about how we have to save the planet and I think he makes a valid point. The planet has been here for billions of years, it’s going to be fine. We’ll be gone, no doubt, but the planet will live on. It will take its time and slowly heal from all the terrible things people have done to it and it may no longer be habitable by humankind, but the planet will be fine. No one really cares about the planet, it’s themselves their trying to save. Sometime, when destruction of environment reaches a critical mass, and it become too ruthless to sustain human life, we will slowly die off. The human race will probably be able to survive , limping along on life support for hundreds of years, but eventually we’ll all be gone, and THAT is what will ultimately Save The Planet.  

Holy shit, I got a little existential on ya there for a second. Weeks alone in the desert will do that to a man's brain. I think I’ve mentioned that before, but weeks alone in the desert also takes a toll on a man’s memory. I apologize for the digression. 

     Lets get back to two and a quarter miles on the Upheaval Dome Overlook Trail. The sign at the trailhead says “Dome” but it’s actually a crater, and science isn’t quite sure how it was formed. Could it have been a meteor? A prehistoric sea? A collapsed salt dome?  These are the best guesses science has offered up so far, but still no proof to its formation. I manage to pull myself up the trail to the crater's rim where I plop down to admire another view and munch on a Cliff Bar.

    It’s a short 1 mile round trip to the crest of Whale Rock.  I don’t even bring my gps or water on such a short hike and almost immediately, I regret it. This one is another trail that mostly transverses the huge red boulders that are so abundant in this part of the country. Maybe a scraggily little bush here or there, clinging to life from a small crack. Windblown sand finds refuge in shallow depressions, but the rest is just bare rock. So with no worn path to follow I’m once again using those rock cairns for navigation. My lack of water provides an extra anxiety when I can’t seem to find them anymore. I stand in one spot and turn, 360 degrees, eyes locked onto the rough stone surface and see nothing. Uh oh……I take a few cautious steps in the direction I believe the trail was headed before I lost sight of it. Over a crest in the rock I finally set eyes on the next cairn and the crisis is quickly averted.

 

     It’s unsettling how quickly you can find yourself in a dire situation like that in the desert, especially if you're alone, and in this case without water. It could be something as simple as a twisted ankle or a skinned knee getting infected. Stuck out in the desert alone, you got a real problem on your hands. As of this particular moment however, I’ve got no problems other than a greying sky that’s threatening to storm by turning up the wind.

     Rain holds off long enough for me to do the half mile loop passed Mesa Arch. The name is apt seeing as its nothing but flat desert as far a I can see, in all directions. Eventually I can see where the desert just drops away and from there the arch peaks just up over the edge of the mesa. As I get closer I’m able to look through it to canyon floor hundreds of feet below. It’s a different orientation than the other arches I’ve seen so far and makes for a decent photo op. With the storm nearly upon me now I retreat to a nearby highway rest stop to crash for the night in the Jeep. Along the way I keep stealing glances in my rearview to see the sunset. The clouds mesh with the skyline of cliffs on the horizon and I can't differentiate between the earth and the sky, they have become one.

44.) Pricy Conditions......Free Box......and Investigative Journalism...

      

     The yellow, diamond shaped street sign I pass while heading into Telluride warns of Icy Conditions. A local prankster type has stuck the letters PR in front of the word Icy so the sign reads “Pricy Conditions”. It’s a good joke and when I pull into downtown I'm given reason to believe it’s accurate.The little mountain town is stupidly beautiful. Like something out of a Swiss tourism brochure. Cute little shops and brick store fronts line the main drag.  It's the middle the off season so a lot of the places are closed, have shortened hours, or are remolding; and nearly everyone I pass has a K-9 sidekick. It’s heavenly and throughout the day I have a reoccurring thought, “I think I could live here.”

     

     While the town itself is esthetically pleasing it’s not why I’ve come to Telluride. I could try and convince you that I’ve come here for the change of scenery. And to be fair, that is partly true, I suppose. The desert gets lonely. It takes its toll when you spend an extended amount of time in it….especially when the majority of that time is spent alone, and after only 2 and a half hours of driving I am definitely not in the desert anymore.      The town sits in the the crook of a horseshoe bend in the mountains.  Three sides flanked by the jagged snowcapped walls.  The highway just sort of ends in Telluride, it has no place to go once it reaches the mountains

     So don’t get me wrong, there’s no doubt that this place is beautiful, but again, it’s not what made me come here. Truthfully, I’ve never even heard of Telluride, but it’s 2014 and I HAVE heard about Colorado’s legal marijuana laws and I mean to check it out.  It’s a strictly journalistic pursuit, I assure you….Mom.   

The medicinal stuff has been legal for awhile in these parts, but recently Colorado was the first state to legalize recreational sales as well and it seems the locals are as excited as I am.  I can walk from one end of town and back in less than an hour, so it’s not a big place but the have 4 marijuana dispensaries….FOUR. One of them was strictly for medicinal purposes so I’m not allowed in since I don’t have a prescription card from a doctor.  The others have a special room for the medical stuff which I'm also denied entry to without my “green” card, but where I’m standing now has no shortage of inventory.  

Edibles, smokeable  hash, wax…everything one could want is on display inside the glass  counter or on shelves on the back wall. It’s just like the wall behind any bar in America.  Top shelf is the fancy, most expensive product.  It’s your smokable Royal Crown and Patron. Prices and quality diminished as you move down the shelves.  

I talk shop with the guy behind the counter, ask about the different products, what’s his favorite, what isn't worth my time that sort of thing.  He’s wearing a Minnesota Wild jersey, I let him know I’m a Blackhawks fan so I have to take anything he says with an appropriate level of mistrust, but he smiles affably and points me towards some chocolates .  Edibles have never really done anything for me so I have my doubts, but after I think about it every time in the past have eaten brownies, they were made by one of my stoner friends who, it’s very possible, had no idea what they were doing. These are professionally made so I trust his judgement and buy a package along with a few grams of the smokeable that I’m more familiar with. These they call “flowers”. It’s weed dude, just give it to me.  The “flowers” come in plastic cylindrical containers that resemble prescription bottles without the child proof top.  The chocolates come in a similar, larger bottle. It reminds of the container I used to keep my pogs in as a kid…Oh man, remember pogs!?  Anyway, 4 chocolates come in the tube, each slightly larger than a rectangle broken off a hershey bar.  I choose the mint chocolate chip flavor and am told that each piece contains 25 milligrams of THC.  The recommended dosage is 10 milligrams so the guy tells me to eat half of one to see how it goes, you can always eat more but you can’t eat less, so be careful, once it’s ingested you’re along for the ride.  

I thank everyone inside, shout "Go Hawks!" at the kid in the hockey jersey, and head back to the Jeep with my new found, totally legal, bounty.  I hide they flowers in the car since the new laws say I can buy and posses it, but I’m still not allowed to smoke it in public. Not on the streets, or in a pub, I’ve got to be in a private residence if I want to be 100% legal, but theres no law that says I can’t eat chocolate anywhere I want, so I remove 1 piece from it’s packaging. 

25 milligrams of THC per piece, I don’t really know how much that is. Recommended dosage 10 miligrams; that doesn’t sound like that much. I bite off half the piece and it tastes pretty good. I eye the other half and contemplate saving it for later but, it doesn't take me long to say fuck it, with a shrug and pop the other half into my mouth. I spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the small town and reaffirming my earlier thought that I could live here.

Plenty of bars to choose from, a skate park down one of the out of the way back roads, a park with a large grassy area bisected by a shallow mountain stream.  It’s obviously ski/snowboard town, I can see the runs coming down the mountains covered in grass instead of snow this time of year, and pass by the deserted ski lifts. Evidently you can take the lift up the mountain and ski down the other side to a different resort in a different mountain town. That’s beyond my experience considering the ski hill I grew up with in the Midwest was just an old landfill long ago covered with dirt to make a hill.  This is another animal entirely. I’d like to try it out for myself one day.  

I’m still not feeling the effects from my chocolate and I curse myself for wasting my money.  I shoulda got all flowers, I know those work. Oh well, I chalk it up to a new experience and continue my wandering. That’s when I make an mind melting discovery in the middle of town…..The Free Box.

    

     

     It’s a series of cubby holes, like a bookshelf but with more space, and it’s full of all sorts of useful items. Old books, shoes and clothes that people have grown out of. House wares like plates and placemats. Blankets, pillows, anything that someone no longer needs or uses can be placed here, as long as its still useful. People can drop stuff off, or pick something they could use themselves.  It’s an incredible idea and I'm whole heartedly in love with it. This sort of thing should be in every town! Why don’t more places do this!?  But I quickly realize that all you need is one party pooper to ruin the whole thing for everyone.  Someone who cleans out the entire box, regardless of if they need the stuff or not, or someone using the box as a receptacle and filling it with trash or as a bathroom, filling it with……yuck. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” I think to myself.  But the nearby sign with the Free Box rules on it also has the heading “A Telluride Tradition” which makes it sound like its been around for a while.  I really wanted to partake in the Free Box but the books that were there I’d either already read or didn’t interest me, so I abide by the rules and take nothing I can’t use.  This is such a great idea, I’m elated, lifted up by the concept, and excited that apparently this town has found a way to make it work.  I have a little bit more faith in humanity after this display and when I finally turn away to check out the rest of the town, that's the moment I realize that I’m fucking flying.  Blazed outta my gourd.  The chocolates take a little patience, but eventually, they get the job done; and it’s less of a stuck on the couch and can’t move kinda high. While not energized exactly, I’ve still got the motivation to wander around Telluride for a bit longer soaking in the sights and snapping a few pictures in the process.  It turns out to be a wonderful day, and a relaxing respite from desert hiking.  So with my investigative journalism complete, and still too high to make the trip all the way back to Utah, I find a truck stop on the outskirts of town and crash in the Jeep for then night.

43.) Inquiring Strangers....the Last of the Arches....Thai Strippers...

     The next day is cold and grey with no signs of clearing up in the afternoon like usual so no hiking today. Instead I spend it in town refilling prescriptions, investigating the library, and making cheesy chicken camp stove tacos at a picnic table I find outside a Wendy’s. While I’m cooking I meet Mike, who inquires as to what I’m up to. I give him the quick rundown of this trip I’m on and he seems impressed. So much so that he gives me his email and tells me to look him up if I ever make it to Salt Lake City, he’ll hook me up with a place to stay.

     I’m always a little nervous when someone asked about what I’m doing. Afraid that they're just looking for a reason to kick me out of wherever I happened to be at the time, or that they just won't get it at all and figure I’m just some hobo loser. But it never happens that way, no one is ever critical of my decisions that have led me to this particular spot at this particular time. In fact, it’s usually jealousy and well wishes I’m met with, and sometimes, even sandwiches. The most critical comment I’ve gotten up to this point, outside of those border patrol agents down in Texas, is  “Seems like it could get tough at times, huh?” and without really thinking about it, my naturally occurring response comes out, “Yeah, but so can everything else.” I nod in agreement with myself, it’s a good point and people seem to take it as such.  

After I eat, I have a few beers and Woody's Tavern in Moab, and watch the Blackhawks lose. It’s still raining when I emerge so I retreat to the laundromat to enjoy my buzz while I wash some clothes and then crash out in the Jeep behind the tavern. The next day the rain continues so I’m still hikeless, but it’s Mothers Day so I call my Mom to wish her well and fill her in on the current what, when, and where of my trip.  Blue law says no booze on Sundays (bummer, especially on a rainy Sunday) so I spend most of the day reading ‘Just Kids’ in the back of the Jeep. 

The storm is still overhead the following day, but I can finally see the edge of it, it’s not raining but it’s still cold and overcast. Whenever I reach a new place it seems like summer has finally arrived but then a front comes through and it gets cold again. Earlier in the week I was sweating in the sunshine, but this morning at 11:30 it's only 55 degrees. I slog through another hikeless day, looking forward to warmer weather, but I’m sure once it gets hot I’ll bitch about that too, so ya know….The grass is always greener and <insert platitude>. 

Sweet, pure rejuvenating sunshine finally coats my skin after 3 days of grey, wet, boring everyday chores. Stop at the pharmacy, wash your clothes, make yourself dinner. These were the kind of things I was worried about, being on the road like this, always moving around, not really having an address. But it's all been relatively straightforward.  Give my current bottle of meds to the pharmacist, he makes some calls and I get new jar of meds. Find a laundromat, they're everywhere, to wash my clothes once in a while. I'm not attending any high faulting' get togethers or anything so I don't have to be spotless, or even, all that clean really, so this is almost a treat. Plus it's a constructive way to spend a rainy day. But I'm more than stoked to finally feel some sunshine again. 

   

     I should be able to finish up the rest of the trails in Arches today. The trail system that surrounds and leads to Landscape Arch is the only section of the park I have yet to visit. This section has a bunch of small trails branching off of each other. Some of them run right along the tops of the huge boulders so I play a lot of find-the-rock-carin to remain headed in the right direction.  It wouldn't be terribly difficult to just get caught up in the beautiful scenery and end up wandering off into the desert, but this side of the park is easier to access and therefore more popular.  There's not a ton of people around but it's enough to make you feel less exposed.

     All the arches are worth a gander though, and they're all different. Double O Arch is the most impressive for my taste.  Two window like arches on right on top of each other.  Theres others that lead through through thick rock fins, and one that looks to be on the verge of collapse.  This this ribbon of rock i believe to be Landscape Arch, and there are boulders underneath it that look like they'd fit like puzzle pieces into the underside of whats left of the arch above. Dangerous Territory. 

     

     The sun continues to shine but it’s still sweater weather with long pants and I’m loving it. With the La Sal Mountains the constant backdrop, ice cream sundae mountains with a healthy squirt of chocolate syrup snow to top it off.   I spend most of the day here wandering taking it all in. I’ve hiked nearly 8 miles by the time i’ve covered every trail in this section.  On my way back to the jeep it starts to catch up with me. Three hike less days of rain, and then 8 miles is taking its toll. I kick off my hiking boots and head back in to Moab where i find, McStiffs, another small town dive bar to watch tonights hockey game.

      Enter Byron, an affable Canadian man who ends up being generous with the drinks and the stories. We bullshit about the hockey game, the trip I’m on, and the like. The usual pleasantries that occur with strangers at a bar sorta stuff, until Byron tells me he’s recently returned from Thailand. Where here spent a lot of his time in Tai strip clubs.  one of said clubs one lovely lady asked him his name when he walked in the door. She the proceeds to slide a marker into her most intimate of areas and manipulated across a white board. The result, while not obvious, was still clean enough…she had written ‘Byron” with her hooha….Another act consisted of a different girl placing a ballon between his knees while a third lady of the night shot darts outta her baby maker until she popped the balloon. Needless to say, the experience left him disappointed when he visited American strip clubs for the first time.

    It’s understandable since when he left the club in Thailand one of the girls left with him, and ended up staying with him for the whole weekend.  “I never paid here or anything, I think she just wanted a boyfriend,” he says. 

“Well, so what did you do?” I chuckle in response.

“Oh, I was scheduled to fly out on Monday…..so I did. She was still in the room when I left. Hell, she might still be there.”  Byron might be bordering on scumbaggery here, but I love a good story and thats a damn good one.  I thank him for his chatter and the drinks and I retreat back to the jeep and crash out behind the building.  

I’m slow moving the next morning having had a few more drinks than anticipated the previous night so the morning is spent in the library where I know it will be both air conditioned and quiet.  Once the mist clears from my brain and I'm function more effectively I steer the Jeep towards Telluride, Colorado and state 5 of this trip.

42.) Cairn Hunting......View Viewing......and Dark Double Arches...

 

     I awake from my daydream and continue on, down the Broken Arch trail which leads right through the arch itself and into the campground. It’s a gorgeous place, surrounded with more rock fins, some 2 and 3 stories tall. Spires of the same red rock reach even higher in some places. The trail goes up, over, and sometimes right along these formations. When you hike on solid rock, a well worn trail is not possible the way it is through the woods or even on the desert floor. So I have to be on the lookout for rock cairns, manmade stacks of 3 or 4 small rocks that mark the trail. It makes hiking here into a game of sorts. I see a cairn, I hike to it, and from there I spin around until I locate the next one and off I go. It’s fairly obvious, not at all difficult to follow, but it’s different than just trudging down a well defined path.  

     I spend the rest of the day bouncing around on these rock trails, seeking out cairns and taking in all the views the desert has to offer. I consider the campground, it’d be quite an experience to stay out here after dark, but it’s 20 bucks a night to camp and I’m on the tightest of budgets. Food, gas, the occasional libation. My money is holding out better than I thought it would, but I have no idea when or how I’ll have the chance to make more, plus further investigation reveals that the entire campground is booked solid for the next few weeks so I stick to my free car camping in town.

     Before I exit the park for the night I watch the sun set on the Park Avenue Trail from the back of the jeep. The night before, my hiking boots had made sleeping in the jeep rather ripe, if you know what I mean, so before I set out this morning I powdered them liberally with odor eaters. I remove my boots as the sun continues it’s slow decent to the horizon and discover that I may have been a bit too caviler with the powder. Inside my sweaty boots all day it’s turned into a kind of paste between my toes. A rather unpleasant feeling but the silver lining is the gross feeling paste smells great! Let’s hear it for the smallest of victories! Park Avenue fades along with the sun, from red, to deep purple, to pure black. The same thing its done every single night for billions of years, nothing more than just ‘IS’.

 

 

     Moab mornings have been consistently overcast and rainy during my stay here, but by lunchtime blue skies usually make an appearance complete with cotton candy clouds. Today is no exception and I take advantage by heading to a new section of the park. Trails to The Windows and Double Arch take me on a 3 mile jaunt that is anything but disappointing. It’s still too crowed in my opinion, but the Double Arch might be the most impressive formation yet. And with the La Sal Mountains as a constant back drop it’s difficult to get too worked up about all the tourists. 

It’s hard to believe but my guidebook says Double Arch started as a small depression in the top of this huge boulder.  The depression would fill with water, and that water would work it’s way into small crack, and slowly make the bigger. Fast forward a few million years and you get Double Arch, two mammoth archways separated by a kind of skylight.  The water started where the ‘skylight’ is now, worked its way down and flowed either out the frontside of the formation or the backside, forming both arches that I’m able to climb up into. The floor below them is littered with huge boulder that obviously fell from above in times past, and we’re all having a jolly good time playing underneath.  Someday, someone, maybe several someones, in possession of the worlds worst timing will be hurt or killed here. Crushed by a hunk of boulder that hasn't moved in ages. It’s the truth, but…Why so dark Skala?