stories
a tale or two from the road and home
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DAYS 32-34 & 49-51: KATHMANDU, NEPAL
My third world traveling experience consists of a few countries throughout Central and South Americas, as well as a couple in the Caribbean. And just recently, Thailand. Nepal, however, is on another level entirely. We spent five nights there in the capital city, Kathmandu, before and after our two-week trek.
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
My third world traveling experience consists of a few countries throughout Central and South Americas, as well as a couple in the Caribbean. And just recently, Thailand. Nepal, however, is on another level entirely. We spent five nights there in the capital city, Kathmandu, before and after our two-week trek.
In Kathmandu, you will likely see monkeys roaming the streets in packs. And sacred cows adorned in decorative headdresses and paints lounging in public plazas. You might witness an open-air cremation. Or pass by freshly cut goat heads displayed for sale. Much of daily commerce appears to be logistically handled through a maze of cheerful vendors on wooden wheeled carts and bikes. It’s safe to say that if the chaotic traffic and routine engine misfires aren’t keeping your head on a swivel as you walk around town, the unique surroundings certainly will.
There was much to enjoy, like, festivals lasting days. Our trip happened to coincide with Tihar, also called The Festival of Light. During the celebration, the Nepali people worship the goddess of wealth as well as dedicate days to the worship of dogs, cows, ravens, oxen, sisters and brothers. Clay lanterns light up the streets, children sing from door to door, windows and entryways are decorated with garlands made of marigolds and colorful offerings are displayed outside of houses and businesses. People dance and celebrate joyously throughout the night.
Everyone was friendly and welcoming, and the service was spectacular everywhere we went. We enjoyed watching children playing on gigantic bamboo swings. We loved the bright colored clothing. We stuffed ourselves with the delicious twenty-five cent samosa’s (think fried ball of curry) from the street vendor outside our hotel. And there are many temples to explore, some big, many small, some still decayed from the earthquake, some already rebuilt.
We also faced some challenging everyday truths. Much that was hard to see. This was especially true on a day that we took a five kilometer walk outside of Thamel, the primary tourist district. We walked through villages with extreme poverty. It made me realize how much I take for granted on a daily basis. Things just not available to many parts of the world. The same shortcomings that we often read about in our local newspapers but the experience of physically being there and seeing and walking through these neighborhoods was extremely moving.
Debris and fallout from last year’s earthquake were evidenced everywhere. Primitive shacks housing large families. Homeless people covered in more dirt and swaths of bugs than the scarcely patched clothing still wrapping their lifeless bodies. Lung filling dosages of city smog, fog, and dust. Milky textured rivers that run dark with trash drifting ashore. So much poverty.
A lack of city infrastructure. Decayed footbridges. Few sidewalks. Birdsnests of power lines cobbled together haphazardly. Wooden wheeled bikes, cart pushers, mopeds, goat herders, foot traffickers and cars all share the same narrow dirt roadways void of any traffic signs. Daily enforced power outages - that is, for those that even have power. Entire city blocks go dark after 10pm, making the otherwise harmless stray dogs and cats stepping out of alleyways seem frightening.
It has been an experience that has made us especially grateful. Grateful for sidewalks, traffic laws, garbage disposals, paved roads, clean water…happy for our health, family and incredibly thankful for the many fortunes gifted upon us.
When asked how we could best help Nepal, a bartender responded candidly, “Come here and spend your money.” But if that’s not an option, we have a included links to a couple charities in the notes section that were recommended to us.
-Brad
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
T H A M E L, N E P A L
K A T H M A N D U, N E P A L
We’ve linked the things that we’ve really enjoyed below in case you ever find yourself here:
OR2K - Middle Eastern Cuisine. Eat at both the restaurant upstairs and falafel stand below.
Fire and Ice - Pizza. You'll at some point want pizza. This is where to get it.
Pranamaya Yoga - In central Thamel. So good after 14 days of trekking.
Mandala Boutique Hotel - Can't say enough good things about this nice hotel and the staff.
Nepal Relief Organizations:
Flagstaff International Relief Organization
DAYS 26 - 31: CHIANG MAI, THAILAND
We exited the purple train in the northern city of Chiang Mai. It’s a fantastic juxtaposition of a place - a fairly big city snuggled into the foothills of beautiful, tree-covered mountains blanketed in a a luminous layer of fog. And while it’s definitely still got the the hustle and the bustle and the smells and street food, it’s much smaller - and felt to me, more manageable than its southern sister, Bangkok.
We exited the purple train in the northern city of Chiang Mai. It’s a fantastic juxtaposition of a place - a fairly big city snuggled into the foothills of beautiful, tree-covered mountains blanketed in a a luminous layer of fog. And while it’s definitely still got the the hustle and the bustle and the smells and street food, it’s much smaller - and felt to me, more manageable than its southern sister, Bangkok.
Our very first discovery was that public transportation in Chiang Mai is kind of a hassle and rather expensive, so most people, even visitors opt to travel by motorbike.
We were both a little hesitant at first. As far as I knew, Brad’s “scootering” experience had plateaued in his early teens with a fairly scary accident cruising the back roads of Cheboygan, Michigan. And the rental process isn’t all that reassuring. No waivers. No insurance check. No instructions. Just a quick conversation with a man speaking very little English, wherein the phrase “are you sure there isn’t anything else we should know before driving this?” was countered with a casual shrug - and we were off.
If I didn’t emphasize it enough in the last post, I’ll reiterate it again. Traffic here is absolutely insane. Three or four lanes of motorbikes swerving in and out of trucks, busses, crowded roundabouts, families of four strapped into tiny vespas, elderly women with coke bottle glasses honking their horns, hollering at you you to move out of the way. All the while trying to remember to stay to the left instead of the right. Thankfully I was the backseat passenger in this particular escapade, so I just held on for dear life and tightly closed my eyes every time we were nearly sideswiped by a truck filled to the brim with coconuts. And it turned out to be a pretty great way to get around for the most part.
Prior to our arrival, we were lucky enough to be able to have been connected with the sister and brother-in-law of one of our friends currently living in Chiang Mai. They gave us our very first acro-yoga lesson (which was a blast), took us to this ahh-mazing little diner and bestowed upon us lots of locals-only knowledge. In short, they were awesome. They also warned us about what to do when stopped in a traffic raid, which unfortunately came in very handy right away.
Police in Chiang Mai are known for creating traffic stops and asking you to show your proof of your Thai driver’s license. It seems to be a really grey area, (even after researching, I’m not exactly sure about what’s legal), and the whole thing kind of seems like a scam because they try to force you to pay cash - which goes who knows where...I would assume partially into the pockets of the officers.
But even with the advance warning, I don’t think anything has ever made my wimpy, rule following heart pound more than the sight of a Thai policeman decked out in an intimidating uniform and nasty scowl waving us down. I seriously think I almost peed my pants. But thanks to the advice to our new friends, and the fact that Brad did all the talking, we survived. We stayed firm on the fact that we weren’t carrying any money with us, which visibly aggravated them, and they spent quite a bit of time yelling at Brad in loud Thai and broken English (while visions of life in a dirty foreign prison danced through my head). Eventually though, they just wrote us a ticket. We fudged the name a bit and as far as we know, got out of that one scot free. Phew.
The next raid we encountered (seriously these things were everywhere) we spotted in enough time to quickly pull over and duck into a nearby restaurant. The cops saw this. We’re two gigantic white humans in a sea of tiny people with dark skin. There’s no hiding. We then had a heck of a time trying to discreetly back the bike up to the nearest get-away alley (well Brad had a heck of a time - I just nervously waited in that alley praying no one saw him in the process). Luckily though it wasn’t long before he scooped me up and we quickly zipped down a few side streets. Evading the police in a foreign country certainly makes your adrenaline surge. A lot of N.W.A. lyrics were quoted the rest of the trip.
But as annoying as it was to constantly be on the look out, having a scooter was awesome because it granted us the freedom to get out of town. Since the city is so close to the mountains, it’s only a quick 20 minutes on the highway before you’re cruising through windy rural roads lined with palm trees and rice fields that seem to stretch on forever. We took a few trips, one to a place called "Sticky Falls” a giant waterfall cascading over these strange rocks that were in fact “sticky” enough that you could actually climb from the bottom of the waterfall to the top, one to the Chiang Mai “Grand Canyon”, a glorified swimming hole that swallowed my iPhone whole, and one to Crazy Horse climbing area.
The climbing was not my favorite part of the trip. When we arrived I made the horrible mistake of reading the warning signs at the trailhead, cautioning climbers against killer bees that like to nest in crevices within the rocks and fuzzy little plants that apparently “itch very bad.” Definitely enough to kick my poison ivy PTSD paranoia into full swing. The first area we headed to was appropriately dubbed “the furnace” - I would assume because it’s in this little pocket of jungle that seams to trap the heat and humidity and hundreds upon thousands of mosquitos. We started climbing and I quickly learned that the huge limestone walls are totally different than the smooth and forgiving granite and sandstone we’re used to in Colorado. The rock is much more jagged and pointy and super rough on your hands and feet. And because the air is so humid and you’re so sweaty, the chalk on your hands dissolves pretty much instantly and it’s hard to get a grip on anything. On my second assent, I was about 10 feet from the top, when I blindly reached my hand right into one of the bee's nest pockets. I escaped without a sting, but the panic that ensued was quite enough for me. I’m really hoping the climbing we have scheduled for the second part of the trip is far more enjoyable.
One of the things I absolutely loved about Chiang Mai was the food. Oh my god, the food. Bowls of steaming curry, spicy papaya salads, soups and noodles and strange fruits that we had never before seen in all kinds of new sweet and sour flavors. Enough to make your tastebuds sing. Even though I was often a bit squeamish about the cleanliness factor of what we were eating (i.e. cats sleeping on the tables where the food was being prepared or flies swarming around sticks of meat that looked like they had been sitting out all day), we were able to find some amaaaazing restaurants and awesome street food.
On the third day of our week, we visited an elephant sanctuary…probably the thing I had looked forward to most this entire trip. Prior to 1987, elephants were widely used in Thailand for logging. However, once it was outlawed, areas were created in Northern Thailand for these elephants to “retire,” and their value shifted from their strength to the money they raked in from eager tourists. Unfortunately this lead to the creation of many elephant “camps” where they were chained, beaten, forced to do shows and give rides. And even more unfortunately, a lot of these camps still exist today under the belief that it is the only way they can make money. So when deciding where to go, we did a ton of research and ended up selecting a place called Chia Lai Orchid - a eco resort whose sole focus is to help change these practices. They are currently partnered with an existing “camp” to help model and encourage better treatment and are working towards raising enough money to buy this particular camp so they can start running it. Check out the website here: http://chailaiorchid.com/
Our experience was awesome. We were first taken on a hike through the jungle areas and surrounding small villages by a guide who pointed out a lot of the local flora, plants that blew bubbles, spiders the size baseballs (not even exaggerating) and showed us a local watering hole perfect for a quick swim with some of the village children. We then hopped on a bamboo raft and were guided through a soft rapids (Brad only fell out once). And in the afternoon we were permitted to feed, bathe and care for the elephants. And I cannot tell you how cool it is to be up close and personal with these gentle, giant creatures. To feel their slimy trunks grab something out of your hands. To look into their wise eyes and wonder what they’ve seen. My heart hurt thinking of the things that they had been subjected to by the previous camp, but it’s so reassuring to know organizations exist to help stop it.
Our last night in Chiang Mai was probably my favorite. We spent it relaxing and soaking in our last minutes in the city. We strolled the now familiar streets in front of our hostel, treated ourselves to fruit smoothies and Thai massages and ate dinner at one our favorite spots. We stopped at a food stand on the way home to pick up some fresh banana rotees which we later devoured on the balcony of our room overlooking the orangey-blue sunset and the people and the apartment buildings all haphazardly stacked on top of each other. The air was hot and the rotees were sweet and it was one of those moments I just didn’t want to end.
Because it’s all too present in the back of my mind that one of these days our year long adventure will be over. We’ll have to start paying our electric bill again. And go to work on Monday morning. We won’t have the luxury of spending a lazy Tuesday strolling around town, indulging in an afternoon massage or kissing baby elephants. And I just want to soak it all in. To slow it down and really relish the perfect moments in foreign towns with no one else’s company but each others.
Next up we’ll be traveling to Nepal and attempting a 14 day trek to Everest Basecamp. Probably a lot less relaxing. Guess who’s idea that portion of the trip that one was…
DAYS 12 - 25: Bangkok, Thailand
After the Grand Canyon, we cashed in a few hotel points and spent a couple days regrouping in Sedona - sleeping in fluffy beds, spending afternoons by the pool, eating entire bags of halloween candy…it was lazy and gluttonous and absolutely fantastic.
After that we did a little climbing in New Mexico* and Brad took me to Santa Fe for my birthday. He treated me to this mind blowing Japanese spa*(a perk doing this type of thing in our 30s rather than our flat broke 20s), and patiently waited while I hunted for turquoise around the city plaza. Meanwhile, he seemed fine hunting for tamales.
Chinatown, Bangkok
After the Grand Canyon, we cashed in a few hotel points and spent a couple days regrouping in Sedona - sleeping in fluffy beds, spending afternoons by the pool, eating entire bags of halloween candy…it was lazy and gluttonous and absolutely fantastic.
After that we did a little climbing in New Mexico* and Brad took me to Santa Fe for my birthday. He treated me to this mind blowing Japanese spa*(a perk doing this type of thing in our 30s rather than our flat broke 20s), and patiently waited while I hunted for turquoise around the city plaza. Meanwhile, he seemed fine hunting for tamales.
We then made a quick pit stop in Denver, swapped out some gear in our truck, busted out the second cross-country road trip of the month, danced our butts off at a wedding, hugged my parents and headed to the airport. T’was time to get the party started. First stop Bangkok.
And then came the travel. Detroit to Denver to Tokyo to Thailand. Twenty-four hours of security lines, gate changes, fighting for elbow room in chairs that never recline quite enough and trying to brush your teeth in airplane bathrooms that don't allow for horizontal arm motion. But the misery was quickly forgotten the second we stepped foot in a foreign land, 8,000 miles across the globe.
And Bangkok? Bangkok is totally awesome. Huge and dirty and crowded and bustling. Full of vibrant colors and pungent smells. Tiny, old ladies on street corners mixing huge pots of savory sauces and roasting mystery meats on skewers. Their husbands tapping you on the shoulder trying to get you to buy their wares or go into their gem shops. Motorbikes that whiz by you in every direction at 30 miles per hour and seem to follow no traffic pattern whatsoever. It's loud and bold and overwhelmingly brimming with life.
And my god, the humidity. I have never sweat so much in my life. The air sticks to you like glue. Like it has been smeared all over your body. Like you've been dipped in a pot of modge podge and let loose in a hot yoga room. Bleh.
After sorting out a baggage debacle, checking into our hotel and trying to get some much needed rest (not easy when you're adjusting to a 12 hour time change), we set out to explore the city.
We spent time touring some of the temples, admiring their amazing architecture and intricate details. The golds and blues and mirrored mosaics. The shrines to Buddha. The hundreds of scary, dragon monkeys that are painted so ornately, it makes your hands hurt thinking about the poor old guys who must have had to painstakingly labor over each and every one.
We walked the busy streets, visited Khao San Road, a place filled to the brim with shopping carts, bars, restaurants, hostels and backpackers from all over the globe. The one place our light skin and gigantic-ness didn't make us stick out like a sore thumb.
We indulged in the infamous Thai massages. For about $7 you can get an hour of relaxation bliss. My first one was awkward. Imagine a fourteen year-old boy trying to undo your bra strap so he can rub oil all over your back. But the second time we opted to just get our feet done and I literally felt like melty jello when it was over. I could barely walk in a straight line when I got up.
We had beers at a few of the hole in the wall bars*, ate some absolutely delicious food. My brother will be very disappointed to know we didn't try the insects or eyeballs or anything else that would cause an automatic gag reflex, but the orange juice and Pad Thai* are to die for.
Brad got a custom suit* made, I got my hair cut by a team of Thai women and men*, we strolled through Chinatown, risked our lives riding tuk tuks, cruised around on riverboat ferries, had one of those pedicures where hundreds of fish suck the dead skin off your feet and finally ended up at the train station. What a whirlwind.
And here I sit, in the dining car of the purple (yes purple) train that has taken us through the night past rice fields, small villages and jungle landscape, sipping a tiny coffee, listening to loud Thai music and trying to write this blog. It's pretty tough to focus while you're whizzing by the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen in your life. I literally just had a quick conversation with a smiling monk in a train that stopped next to ours. God, I love this place.
We will be spending the next week hanging out with elephants, learning acro yoga and exploring the northern Thai town of Chiang Mai. It keeps getting better and better :)
Until next time friends.
We’ve linked the things that we’ve really enjoyed below in case you ever find yourself in any of these places:
Madame Musur
Thip Samai (Pad Thai Place)
DAYS 6-11: THE GRAND CANYON
When Brad and I first started talking about what we wanted to do with our initial few weeks of stateside travel I had suggested the Grand Canyon. I had never been and always wanted to see it. And while I would have been perfectly happy spending an afternoon taking a few photos from one of the lookouts, Brad interpreted the word “seeing” a bit more zealously.
Grand Canyon, AZ
When Brad and I first started talking about what we wanted to do with our initial few weeks of stateside travel I had suggested the Grand Canyon. I had never been and always wanted to see it. And while I would have been perfectly happy spending an afternoon taking a few photos from one of the lookouts, Brad interpreted the word “seeing” a bit more zealously.
Now, one might think because we’re pretty outdoorsy that we’re experienced backpackers.
We’re not.
We’ve gone twice together and it was never for more than two nights. Between the two of us, we can count on one hand the number of backpacking trips that we’ve been on longer than a weekend.
So when Brad suggested the rugged 6 day rim-to-canyon-and-return Tanner-Escalante-Tonto-Grandview Loop, I naively agreed with cheer…until we received the response with which the permit was issued:
”...before we accept a $90 non-refundable payment from you, we want to make sure you understand what you requested. Experience has shown that trips such as the one you requested all too often result in off-itinerary camping, injury, and occasionally even death. Please do not accept this itinerary merely because it is available. Make sure it is what you really want and well within the capability of all group members.”
Too often results in injury? Death? Yikes.
But then again, reading the back of a lift ticket renders the same spine chilling feelings…so I maintained my “how bad could it possibly be” mentality and we forged on with our plans.
Fast forward to our initial arrival to the Lipan Point parking lot on the Southern Rim of the Canyon.
OMG. The views.
Like really...I have seen the photos. Googled it a million times on-line. But nothing prepares you for how GRAND the Grand Canyon actually is. It’s so huge and magnificent and sprawling. It’s not just a canyon, but what seems to be hundreds of them, extending in every direction as far as you can see. Such a beast of a thing.
After the initial “ooooing and ahhhing” we strapped on our packs and set foot. And yeah, I felt prepared. I had my very nerdy, very boyish looking backpacking outfit on and was all set to channel my inner Cherryl Strayed.
And then it came. The long stretches of trail dug down the side of the canyon. Where, if you weren’t careful, or if the 40lb thing attached to your back knocked something unexpectedly and you god forbid lost your balance, you'd be totally screwed. So, if you’re anything like me, you kind of get into this groove of just watching your feet, cautious not to widen your perspective and realize that one wrong move would seal your fate as a pancake on the desert floor. Then you'd look up and notice the beauty around you for a few minutes before returning your gaze to the dirt in front of you. And then oh your knees…your poor little knees. About half way down, they would start screaming. But you’re just so full of excitement of the first day and the views and the “newness” of it all, you ignore them and keep walking. Until you thankfully, at dusk, reach your camp and are able to soak your aching appendages in the Colorado River.
The next day it rained. It rained and rained and rained some more. And the tent is hot, and sticky, and soggy and humid from all the rain. And your husband points out that there’s a scorpion under a rock where you cooked your dinner.
Great.
And then there’s more hiking. More Rain. Bushes with thorns. Mice that brush up against the sides of your tent trying to steal your food at night. You learn that its tarantula migration season. And the flies. SOOO many flies.
The rain finally let up on day three, but by then I was whooped. So physically and mentally drained. And these narrow, cliff hanging, crazy trails, they go up up up and then down down down. And just when you're sneaking a peak at what you thought would be your camp for the night…oh wait, just kidding…there’s 2 more miles of up up up and down down down in front of you.
And at that point Brad turned around to check on me and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My hips hurt. My feet hurt. My head hurt. I smelled. Horribly. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that we still had three more days of this torture. Warm tears started rolling down my hot, sticky face and I was toast.
But Brad, god bless him, never gets mad. Or annoyed. Or frustrated with my wussy-ness. He just stopped walking. Gave me a sweaty hug. Made me laugh. Fed me a granola bar. Assured me that we were close. And picked up my pack to carry it the rest of the way (mind you, he was already carrying like 80% of our stuff).
When we finally got to camp that night we stripped ourselves down and jumped straight into the ice cold Colorado. And holy mother of whatever-god-you-believe-in, did it feel good. We relaxed and Brad made me dinner. Smoked some cloves and snuggled in the tent. And again god bless him, he changed our route to get us home a day earlier.
The next day I was in better spirits and able to really enjoy the journey. When you’re not cursing the stars in pain or praying the soles of your boots have a decent grip on the gravel surface below you, you realize how amazing the trail system there is. You get to shimmy against the sides of stone, free climb up huge walls of shiny corrugated rock, slide on your ass down scree piled up against 50 foot drop-offs that make your heart pound and adrenaline surge. Most of is it practically vertical. Not much horizontal about it. There are switchbacks, huge views, jetting cliffs, lava gardens and miles of crazy shaped cacti. It’s really something.
And every time you pause. There you are. In some new beautiful place. Looking up or down in wonder and amazement.
We met a friendly couple who were from Traverse City and chatted (the only other people we had seen since leaving). We made camp yet again and that night, for the first night, the clouds parted and the stars showed themselves. And I went to bed smelly and gross and exhausted and feeling so happy and fulfilled.
In the morning we left and made our final 2,400 ft ascent back up to the rim, spending most of the hike fantasizing about what we were going to order at the Flagstaff McDonalds. And while my joints were relieved and my belly was rumbling, I was kind of, believe it or not, sad that this part of the journey was over.
Because I guess that’s what these horrible, terrible, amazing, wonderful experiences are for. To push you to your limits. To force you to learn about yourself. To make you appreciate a hot shower, warm bed and the one you love.
If I had never met Brad I probably would have made it to the Grand Canyon at some point in my life. I would have gotten out of the car, snapped a few photos, thrown a filter on em’, posted them on instagram and called it a day.
I would be far less smelly. I wouldn’t have bruises or blisters or scrapes. Every muscle in my body would be a heck of a lot less sore. I might have even saved a few tears.
But I also wouldn’t have learned that the rocks in the belly of the canyon come in every color of the rainbow and look like they were each hand painted by the Master himself. I would have never wandered through the bottom of the dry tributaries and wondered what it would be like to be an ancient river crashing against the walls. I wouldn’t know that some of the really hard to get to places in there are so green and lush, you would swear you’re hiking through a rainforest. And I wouldn’t have realized how strong and capable these quads and calves of mine really are.
I am so so very thankful that of all the people in the universe, I ended up with one who quite literally shows me the world from a different perspective. Who stands behind me on sketchy parts of the trail and spots me while I climb higher. Who patiently waits for me when I’m slower, who lifts my spirits when I’m at my lowest and still tells me I’m pretty even when I’m covered in 5 days of dirt.
So I guess when given the choice between seeing something comfortably from a distance or suffering through 35 miles of near death experiences in the depths of it with your other half, I’d always choose the latter.
And omg. How good did that cheeseburger taste when we were done.
DAYS 2 - 5: COLORADO, UTAH & ARIZONA
This week we made up a new word, Kerouac-ing (v). - to be on the road, and on the road, and on the road some more...
We woke up on day two and attempted to climb this ridiculous looking spire called Independence Monument. The hike in was beautiful and it felt so good to climb again. I had started calling this past summer “the bummer summer.” A self-inflicted two months of staying far away from rocks and strange bushes and anything that could induce bruises, sprained ankles, weird tan-lines or more poison ivy…all for the sake of lookin’ good in the white dress. And man, did it feel good to finally slide up against some sandstone without worrying about the scrapes it left on my shoulders.
Horseshoe Bend, AZ
This week we made up a new word, Kerouac-ing (v). - to be on the road, and on the road, and on the road some more...
We woke up on day two and attempted to climb this ridiculous looking spire called Independence Monument. The hike in was beautiful and it felt so good to climb again. I had started calling this past summer “the bummer summer.” A self-inflicted two months of staying far away from rocks and strange bushes and anything that could induce bruises, sprained ankles, weird tan-lines or more poison ivy…all for the sake of lookin’ good in the white dress. And man, did it feel good to finally slide up against some sandstone without worrying about the scrapes it left on my shoulders.
We made it through the 3rd pitch of the spire, before looking at the fourth and final pitch and deciding that the rusty sparsely placed bolts, (which this old guy named Otto had placed who knows how many years prior) looked a wee bit sketchy. So we called it, rappelled down and got caught in a sweet little rain storm on the hike back to the truck.
After another three hours on the road, our next stop was Indian Creek, UT - a spot known for its infinite number of crack climbs, which for those of you who aren’t familiar, are basically long “slits” in the sides of a mountain, where you have to shove your fists and toes and any other body part you can wedge in there in order to create a jam and hoist your body up. And then you repeat that like 30 or 40 times to the top. I’m generally not a fan of sticking any of my body parts into mountains, so I thought I would kind of hate it, but it turned out to be amazing. We were the only two souls at the bottom of these giant (and when I say giant, I mean giiiiiiiant) buttresses. And the climbing took some huffing and puffing, and yes, body part jamming, but making it to the top was an unbelievable rush.
We spent our two nights in Indian Creek at a gorgeous BLM campground. Again, we were lucky enough to have the entire place mostly to ourselves. We set up our camp backing up to a garden of scraggly tooth rocks and giant mesas, cracked open a bottle or two of wine, picked wild flowers, cooked fantastic dinners (it’s amazing how much better broccoli and mac+cheese taste when cooked over a campfire), enjoyed the sunsets and gave our battered bodies a rest.
On day four we woke up early to get one last climb in before again, getting on the road and driving 4 more hours to Arizona. Once we crossed the border, we parked ourselves in the sands of Lake Powell, took some sunrise photos at Horseshoe Bend, SUP’d around giant rocks, jumped off cliffs and explored the innards of slot canyons. For those of you traveling to AZ - opt for Waterholes Canyon instead of the classic Antelope. You’ll save $50 and it’s still damn beautiful.
The rest of our days have been filled with reading (I actually finished a book this week - definitely a personal record) and writing, pretending we know how to meditate and attempting to lead our own yoga sessions. We’ve googled a lot of things - like why does the moon affect the tides and the geological history of the area we’re in. We also bought a new camera and have been playing around with that quite a bit. DSLR’s are tricky, tricky little things. Hoping we’ll figure out how to navigate between the aperture and shutter speed and ISO gibberish before this is all over.
Tomorrow we’ll spend grocery shopping, laundry-mat-loitering and stocking up on supplies in order to get ourselves ready for the next adventure: Six days of backpacking through The Grand Canyon. I’m sure we’ll have a few more stories to tell after that one.
Until next time.
-Kenze
