To Grandpa

Grandpa, I'll never forget our meeting six years ago. You welcomed me into the family with open arms and inaugurated our meeting by telling me some of your favorite corny and somewhat dirty jokes.

Thank you for taking such an interest to Kevin throughout his life. You have made things easier on him, and I know you felt he brightened a room when he came in. It has been so wonderful to spend time with a person who feels the same way I do about him. I was priveleged to get to know you so much more because of the special relationship the two of you had. Kevin would have done anything for you, and we'll never regret spending our Saturday afternoons with you over the last two years or going on those trips to Pipe Springs, Page, or Cedar Canyon.
I have never met someone who cared more about people than you did. You had friends wherever you went, and you did much more for your customers than sell them cars: you befriended them, you gave them your favorite books, and you often covered a car payment for them. As one person remarked on your obituary guestbook, "Is there anyone in Southwestern Utah you haven't sold a car to?"

I'll never forget the message you delivered about never giving up. I remember when we were at the Gateway Mall to watch that young man come in after completing the 26-mile Salt Lake City Merathon on crutches and how you cried when he reached the finish line and would not be satisfied until you had met this wonderful person who refused to let his disability limit him. Grandpa, during your last few days last week, our family sensed that you didn't want to die, that you were determined to overcome, to not quit. You did not quit, you stuck it out to the end, you crossed the finish line, and you're off to your next new adventure. You're the champion of all people. I love you, Grandpa.

Moab and Fisher Towers

Last weekend Kevin and I snuk away for a one-night stay near Moab. I've blogged earlier about favorite places, and how Arches is special as the place that I returned to time and again and where I learned to love nature. In an effort to explore more and more of Utah's wilderness offerings, we've been more adventurous, and for that reason it's been two years since I visited my favorite places here.

Kevin and I came down early on Friday without stopping and arrived at the Arches National Park visitors' center to get our Fiery Furnace hiking permit. We hiked in the Fiery Furnace for a couple of hours and spent the rest of the afternoon on the Devil's Garden primitive loop trail. I'll talk more about these hikes in another post.

That evening, we set up our tent at the campground, one just outside of Arches, and went into Moab to get some dinner. We've adopted the Moab Diner as our favorite place to eat there after having a bad experience during the annual Jeep Rally where it was very hard to find good, timely service at any restaurant, and a local we spoke to said she always ate at the Moab Diner. So far it and its Kokapeli Chicken have been good to us. After dinner we went into some of the shops around town and eventually wandered into a used bookstore where I became fascinated by the rare book collection. I really like old books and the way they look, and this one had an original publication by Joseph Conrad as well as the original Harpers publication of Trilby, a novel I read in my senior seminar on the Pre-Raphaelites. It's a truly bad novel, but seeing the Victorian original was cool. We went to another store to look at their rare book collection, this time a lot of regional geographic literature and Ed Abbey books. I didn't buy anything, but I enjoyed this experience more than going to the gift shops and seeing the same old souvenirs at every store.

We went back to the campground and showered, played two-person spades, and fell asleep on our new-ish air mattresses. I love having these little backpacking air mattresses, and cannot imagine camping without them. I mention this because I was raised with a very different philosophy about camping--no mattress, no pillow, no pajamas--just your hiking clothes on. Now it feels like I'm in luxury!

We woke up early that morning to drive toward Moab, but to turn after the Colorado River to follow it up northeast of Arches National Park to get to the Fisher Towers and Onion Creek area, BLM land that I haven't hiked on since I was a child. We turned off on a dirt road to get to the Fisher Towers trailhead and started our hike about 9:00 a.m.

It was beautiful starting out in the shade of the towers as the sun gradually crept up over them.

It was a perfect time to start the hike while there was still plenty of shade. There were song birds singing everywhere, and the flowers were out full strength. It was so green at this time of year, and throughout the hike we had great views of the Colorado River, the towers, and the small canyons that descended away from the towers. I think that it would be very fun to explore these small canyons sometime.

A video of the view about 1/2 mile in from the trailhead.

One of these towers is called the Titan, and Kevin was telling me about how National Geographic sponsored a team of climbers to navigate up this tower a couple of years ago. This is also the proclaimed favorite spot of one of their world photographers.

Kevin at the end of the trail. It was a little over 2 miles one way out, but you can see that the sun had already come out by the time we reached this overlook.

Graduation, At Last!

As part of my catching up, here are the pics from Kevin's graduation from law school earlier this month. It was a very nice graduation, and Justice Goldstone, a former South African judge and international leader, spoke wise words about the importance attorneys play in the way national and international policy is shaped.

Kevin waiting to take class pictures.

The attorney and his wife. I love being a law wife! I've been able to meet some amazing people through this, such as law school friends Dave and Christina, and also dignitaries like Justice Clearance Thomas (at least I got to almost eat dinner in the same room with him at a faculty dinner).

My parents, my husband, and me.

All of Kevin's original family.

Catching Up

I haven't posted for quite some time, but this week I intend to catch up. On the 11th Kevin graduated from law school, on the 12th we had a fun family BBQ at our place--our first larger party ever at our house--to celebrate Kevin's accomplishment. We've been busy with getting the yard up and enjoying our roses in full bloom. We went to Moab, on which I have pictures to post later, and did my top two favorite Southern Utah hikes (Devil's Garden and Fiery Furnace) as well as one new one (Fisher Towers). Life's been crazy, but maybe we can settle down into more of a routine as Kevin studies for the bar.

Coyote Gulch in May

It's May. It's graduation time for Kevin, and it's busy short-academic-term time for me, where I teach two nights a week at a local university on top of working my regular job (which happens to be in a very exciting and engaging point on the current project timeline). Despite everything we have going on (or maybe because of it), we are going to take a trip this month to Moab and Arches. I haven't been there in May for a long time, but I'm expecting it to be hot. Last May Kevin and I were in Chesler Park with my brother, Matt. The May before that, we were in Coyote Gulch. I thought I'd write about that Coyote Gulch trip here to psych me up for more May weather hiking, and remind me of the things I don't want to do as well.

Warning: I made several stupid decisions on this hike. I should have known better. I should have carried more water, for one. About three times the water I took (I only took a liter). I should also have not decided to do the whole hike (14 miles) on a whim, and without eating lunch first.

That May, Kevin and I, along with our good friend Olsen, went down to the Glenn Canyon and Escalante area to do some hiking. We wanted to try an area we had never visited before, and with summer fast approaching, we felt like we were running out of time to visit Southern Utah in decent temperatures. After driving through Escalante and traveling 45 or so miles along a dirt road (in a small Honda Civic, nonetheless) to the most remote area of Utah I’ve ever been to, we reached the trailhead for Coyote Gulch, a popular backpacking hike in the area. It was past 1:00 p.m., but we decided to walk a little ways into the gulch to see what it was like. It wasn’t until later that we decided to do the whole 14.5 miles, which left us racing to finish before the sun set and worried about our water supply.

The first part of the trail is very sandy, but it quickly turns into this sandstone marked with cairns that are placed quite far apart and in about 20 different directions. The trick is to locate and head toward “the Crack,” which is the only way to get down into the gulch.


Here's a pretty part: A small waterfall along the Coyote Gulch trail. Once we descended to the water, the hike continued mildly upstream. This was after we'd been down to the first arch (Steven's Arch) and the place where the Escalante River joins up. Here I made the (poor) decision to keep hiking, rather than go back the way we came to the car. It was beautiful, though, and I was drawn in by the siren.

Kevin and I in front of Coyote Natural Bridge.

Jacob Hamblin Arch, where our route in the actual gulch ended. One thing that made me worried as we progressed along this trail was the notorious climb out. The trail book we were reading called this "the most challenging part," and the Glenn Canyon ranger we talked to told us about this cliff right off, making sure we were up to the challenge. That has somewhat of a psychological impact on climbers, as a 45 degree angle cliff was more of a psychological challenge than anything else. This is the side of the 100-foot fin that we had to scale to get out of Coyote Gulch. At first we thought we could just walk right up this part, by the dirt and plants. Only later did we realize that we had to climb straight up the cliff, farther to the right. One of my coworkers had done this with a bunch of older kids and teenagers, and they had a rope they used more as a security blanket. I think that would have helped in this case.

Eventually we made it out alive and back to the road, where we were picked up by a passing car who drove us to the parking lot. Strangely enough, they were looking for another hiker we'd met in the gulch, one who had been kind enough to filter us 2 liters of water on the spot. Never had nasty carbon-tasting water been so good. When we got to our car, they asked us if we had anything to drink, and we were more than happy to hand over a whole gallon of water we had in the trunk, hoping it would somehow return the favor their friend had done for us.

We had planned to camp along the Hole in the Rock road that night before heading to Calf Creek the next morning. After our experience, we decided to get a motel room. After all, we'd earned it.

Zombies

Last night I went to a writers' group with some friends from work. Our assignment was to write on zombies, a subject I know very little about as I haven't seen any zombie movies. So by the time I got to work yesterday, I hadn't written anything. I also wasn't feeling too well as I had weird dreams the night before that left me with a headache. I could hardly keep my presence of mind with the throbbing pain I was experiencing, so I just kept asking questions. It made me feel like a zombie!

While I am no creative writer--I'll admit that straight up--I have always enjoyed the occasional haiku. I can write haikus because I can count. It's that easy. Here's my zombie headache haiku:

Left brain is throbbing
Can't think, can't work now
How are you doing?

Fortunately, at the beginning of writers' group we had a 15-minute writing warm-up to get going, and I was able to write something. I took my inspiration from the Hoodoo formations in Bryce Canyon, those tall crumbling towers.

Hoodoo Army

Brain dead, rock hard, and breaking off in pieces. The crumbling red stone walls are cracking, arching, expanding, shrinking. Orange muddy water etching away the solidity, leaving tall, lumpy, dusty figures. Lifeless yet living, the living dead. Glaring heat survivors, baked, fried, cemented before awakening. They remain motionless, only shrinking by the inch every few years. Eating the sun, sucking the wind, repelling the rain and its destructive drainage, they reside in a lifeless desert--a stupor. All they need to amass their zombie army is to wait, to stand in the presence of ever-eroding walls.