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Fibrosing Mediastinitis Conference 2012

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White Rim Road Part II

After surviving the night of pikachus we packed up camp and hopped back in the Jeep where we discovered what Blood, Sweat and Tears meant: What Goes Up Must Come Down. 

Here we go....

It happened rather quickly as we left Camp Murphy. As the nose of the Jeep peered at an 80 degree angle Monica, once again, jumped out of the vehicle. This time she was in the passenger's seat. "I'm walking," she announced and began to head down the cliff. She quickly returned and said, "I can't walk down; it's too steep." It's too steep to walk down? I had a horrible vision of losing control, sliding down the hill, squashing her under the Jeep and the horrendous mess that would make. She reluctantly climbed back into the Jeep and asked me, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I said.  I was afraid she'd start panicking and make me more nervous so I said, "Just sit there and hold on to your chicken bar. Do not scream. Do not say a word. Do not do anything" as I put the Jeep in a low gear and let it start barreling down the hill. Then I tried to remind her that she loved jeeping by chanting:  "Te gusta Jeeping, te gusta Jeeping!" the entire way to the bottom of the canyon. Meanwhile the radio was on the only station we could get. I failed to tell her not to sing along with the Bee Gees:

 Well, I have to follow you 

Though you didn't want me to. 

But that won't stop my lovin' you 

I can't stay awaaaaaay!

... as she clutched the chicken bar for dear life.

Do you ever do something that when it's over you're amazed to still be conscious?

by the way... not a pikachu, but more plentiful

It was so nice of the rangers to make the first part of the White Rim so easy and relaxing because if we'd encountered these thrills on the first day we might have turned around. Too bad the pictures can't quite capture the degrees of incline of some of these roads. You're really missing out. Also at this point, we are wondering if our giardia will be kicking in.

Look there's a river

Monica thought she'd drive again and then things got really funny. Well, not funny, but...yeah, funny. All of a sudden the roads became more ridiculous and the balls that I thought I developed shrunk up dramatically compared to the set she was about to grow. Hairpins, straight up, with sand pits to kind of jazz it up a little. So  much for a sweet ride in a nice red Jeep. It was windy and I was filtering the dust with a bandana as Monica gleefully spun the wheels like a madwoman. She seemed to be in the zone with the whole thing. "You get to wear the mustache after that," I told her. 

Oh, my god, Tongues!

It's bad when you look at the side of the cliff and can't even see the road, but you know you somehow going to be stuck in a crevice of a road in a downward dusty spiral. After being jarred and knocked around for 2 days I was pretty sure I was going to be peeing blood. Finally, we managed to get to our last campsite, called Labyrinth. We were the only ones around and our campsite was right on the river. Very beautiful and very freaking windy. Like 40MPH. We began to put up the tent only to find that it was becoming a very effective kite. We tried to stake it down which was a joke because everything around us was rock. We placed rocks on the lines of the tent only to have the tent blow, dragging the rocks along. "We need bigger rocks," Monica shouted over the gusts. Translation: There's heavy things to be lifted. 


Ha. "Okay, hold the tent. I'll be right back."

I'm a genius

I gathered larger rocks and lashed rope around them to act as anchors for each line. Monica thought she was clever to tack the footprint down under the tent, but realized that a pile of rocks was going to be really uncomfortable to sleep on.
I'm so glad I'm with an experienced backpacker.

Time to relax.

Finally get to enjoy some Nilla wafers

The art of cooking

So far, so good.

First thing I noticed was there were no rodents around. Probably too damn windy for them.

"Hell is other people." ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

We were very proud of ourselves for completing the whole loop. One of the best things I've ever done and, of course, I would never come up with these things on my own. I know I don't give Monica enough credit, but she certainly has a gift for planning and making things come together. She pulled together the Half Dome trip and she pulled this together. I appreciate how difficult it can be and I want her to know I am grateful. I still have to lift the heavy stuff and get spiders out of the shower. She also had forsight to reserve us a room at the Kokopelli Inn

in Moab for when we got out of the canyon. 

I, on the other hand, I have vision:

My entire body was a shade of red-brown, but I'm not sure it was suntan or the dust from the canyon. A long hot shower proved that it was a bit of both. 

To be continued....

Capitol Reef to Canyonlands and the Adventures Therein

Let's see...where was I?  Oh, yes, we just came out of the Escalante Canyon where I immediately obtained a Diet Mt. Dew to flush the amoebas from my system. We went back to the Circle D Motel and checked into a room where a hot shower awaited. Then back to Escalante Outfitters for something hot and non-dehydrated.

The next morning we headed toward Capitol Reef where we intended to rent a cabin in Torrey, the same cabins we stayed in when we were in Torrey a year and half earlier. They're small, but they're cheap. (Around 35 bucks a night)  Torrey is a quaint little "town" that consists of a post office (where our cabins are located), a general store, and the most important landmark, Cafe Diablo. The first thing I did was go across the street to wash our clothes. 

We had been to Cafe Diablo last time we passed through Torrey and we were looking forward to a nice meal after road food and Mountain House cuisine. 

Our cabin in Torrey

How cute is the sugar cane stirrer?

We decided to split a meal because we really wanted margaritas. We ordered the ribs. Our waitress, Diane, was the same woman who rents the cabins. Like I said, it's a small town. I had an elderberry margarita. I've never even seen an elderberry, but I have to admit they go nicely with tequila. 

Almost too pretty to eat. But we did. Fall off the bone tasty.

We staggered walked back to our cabin, feeling fat, dumb and happy.

The next morning we were stoked to hit the hiking trails. We thought we'd start with Cassidy Arch, so named because it was on of Butch Cassidy's hideouts. We thought we'd do the trail we thought was more likely to be hot and then do a cooler hike in the afternoon.

Fern's Nipple. I kid you not. I didn't make this up. I don't even know Fern.

Again, the compulsion.

Cassidy Arch

It was getting pretty warm and the rocks in the canyons were heating up. We still had a couple more hikes planned for the day, but thought we'd hang out in the shade in one of the picnic areas. After about an hour or so we headed to the campground to use the pit toilet and to catch the trailhead. In the 6 minutes it took us to empty our bladders, the car decided to die. It simply wouldn't start. Saturday at 4:30pm. Perfect timing. We had no phone signal, of course. But, fortunately, we weren't in some remote canyon where we wouldn't see people for days. In fact, we were surrounded by people and the camp host let Monica use his phone. She then spent a frustrating and painful hour on the phone to AAA, who, unless you're stranded on Fifth Ave in NYC, are basically useless. If you're in a national park, forget about it. The camp host hooked us up with a mechanic in Orem, about 30 miles away. Robert, from Brian Auto drove in and rescued us. He told us he'd tow the car back to Orem and look at it on Monday. Looks like we'd be spending more time in Torrey. None of this would be that bad if Monica hadn't spent months planning a Jeep rental and backcountry permits for Canyonlands. We had to be in Moab on Monday to pick up the Jeep.

Killing time in Torrey and contemplating another elderberry margarita

If we'd left Torrey on time, we'd never have met this awesome puppy, Jake. Sadly for us, he already had a set of parents who loved him.

Monday morning arrived and we still heard nothing about the car. Monica was on the phone all morning trying to make alternative plans and being generally bummed out about potentially missing our Jeep trip. No sooner had she made numerous phone calls to the rangers in Moab, Robert called to say the car was ready. Turns out it was a battery. The strange thing is that the battery had been changed exactly 18 months earlier...in Torrey, Utah when we stayed at the very same cabin. I haven't had any mechanical problems with the car. We decided there is some weird battery sucking vortex in Torrey, UT. Robert wondered where we got the battery (it was Cedar City) because he'd never seen one like it in 30 years. Hmm. Never mind, it was a relatively easy fix and we were quickly on the road to Moab. We arrived in Moab to find hotel rooms were scarce because it was the annual car show that weekend. We ended up going out of town to find a nice lovely campsite on the river. Most of those were filled, but we found a couple who was just leaving. Turns out the campsite was paid for and they offered it to us. It was the only site where the river was not visible...right next to the pit toilet. We set up the tent and headed back to pick up the Jeep and go grocery shopping for essentials like pasta, Nilla wafers, toilet paper, and tortillas. I had gotten a 30 gallon water container before we left. I filled it up and loaded it into the back of the Jeep. 30 gallons of water is heavy. Just saying. And it's my job in this relationship to lift heavy stuff. Keep this in mind. Everyone forgets I'm just a little girl.

With our groceries and gear all packed in the Jeep, we headed back to our little camp where at night, on the river, the gnats come out to play. They fly into your eyes and into your mouth to ride on your toothbrush. Your headlamp, the only light source, attracts them to your face. Coupled with the aroma of a pit toilet only steps away, your night in the great outdoors becomes a tiny detour into hell. And my ancestors are looking down lamenting that they sired a complete idiot.

 Finally, we get to the Canyonland's Island in the Sky ranger station and Monica gets all the logistics and permits. I, of course, have no clue what I'm getting into. Monica spends months and months planning and researching and tries, desperately, to engage me in the plans. I know it sounds lame, but having a near-death experience or illness obliterates the ability or maybe the desire to make plans. Besides, I love the element of surprise. Monica is always delighted and/or mystified that I just go along with whatever she plans. As long as I don't hear the word SNAKE, I'm pretty much there. Sometimes she asks questions like, "Can you carry your backpack for 9 miles?"

 "Dunno. Guess I'll find out."

"Uphill?"

"Now you're pushing it."

"But it's downhill coming back."

How bad can this be? I'm not carrying anything. I'm just riding around in a sweet red Jeep. The plan is to see Canyonlands via the 4WD road known as the White Rim Road. Mountain bikers come from all over to ride this road. But they're crazy. I thought it would be fun to do it on a dirtbike until I saw people doing it. They crazy too. The other caveat is that you have to have backcountry permits to camp in designated campsites. There is no way to do this 100 mile route in one day because you can only go about 10mph, max. Monica had gone Jeeping with her family in Colorado several times so, naturally I thought she was savvy about this. What I failed to realize is that she was a 13 year old passenger. Is it any wonder I have trust issues?

How do we get down there?

Oh, this doesn't look so bad. Shafer Trail, the beginning of the descent into the Canyon.

I feel safe....

Just like a freeway. Well, except for the drop-offs. Just hope no one is around the corner

More walking rocks

They're called "Walking Rocks" because, you know...you can walk out on them. 

The WasherWoman

Monument Basin. 

Each turn into the canyon showed a new and interesting view. This is the only way to explore Canyonlands. Seriously. It's amazing. You miss so much just being on the tourist road. 500 square miles of astounding beauty. Sometimes it's like being on another planet.


Everything was going well. This wasn't so bad. Monica was having a great time driving. It was in her blood. Until the road...Just.Dropped.Off. Then, as if a spring was in her ass, she flew out of the driver's seat and announced, "No way I'm driving down that!" This is the part where I have to rescue us from predicaments she gets us into. Have I ever driven a Jeep on a 4WD dirt road that just drops down? No. Will the Jeep just tumble over forwards and break my neck? I do not know. I do have enough sense to negotiate a better route to prevent this because I do not relish the thought of driving a wheelchair around by blowing into a straw. Obviously, I should take the less incline-y way, right? Right.

Oh, sure it looks easy....

Some people might say I do these things to psychologically torture those around me. 

And then we had to get up to our camp. What the hell? This road was freaking LONG and straight up. And it bent in weird places. And this is not my picture because I was not able to photograph anything while I was white-knuckling the steering wheel. Uh, what do I do? Slow? Fast? 4WH? 4WL? There was much indistinct verbalization during this whole affair. The canyon got wider and much farther down. After a few mysterious bends and prayers that there would not be anyone coming down the other direction, we bounced up to a flat area and discovered a guy in a white pickup truck, casually lounging next to the trail. "Where ya headed?" he asked.

"Murphy camp," we breathed. 

"You're here," he informed us. 

Thank god. 

Murphy Hogback Ridge..the only route to camp

Because I have to lift the heavy stuff and drive the scary parts, I earned the mustache

We set up camp and cooked a meal. There were really big flat rocks around the campsite. "We could sleep out in the open on the rock," I said, excitedly.

"You go right ahead," my under-enthused partner answered. "The rattlesnakes get in your sleeping bag to get warm."

Suddenly, the idea did not appeal to me.

 The only other people in the camp area were nine mountain bikers. We got the tent set up and made some pasta for dinner. Campfires are not allowed so I was not able to practice my mad firebuilding skills. We sat in our chairs and read by headlamp. Meanwhile, we were being harassed by critters with little ears and long tails. It was obvious to me what they were. I'd seen them before. I just never knew where they lived.

Yes, the place was infested with pikachus. They were everywhere and they are apparently nocturnal. I finally got annoyed with them trying to sit with me and I decided to go to bed. Then, all night, I heard them gnawing on things and trying to get into the tent. Then they were running OVER the tent. "And you wanted to sleep on the rock," Monica reminded me. The thought of pikachus running over my sleeping bag all night made me shudder. The noises kept me awake. I carefully unzipped the tent and peeked out, being very cautious as to keep the pikachus from rushing in and killing us. Nothing was disturbed. I saw nothing. What I did hear was the steady slap of the corner of the tent smacking against the ground and the wind rustling the tent. There were no pikachus running over the tent. It was all just the wind. And the pikachus turned out to be merely kangaroo rats.

Man, the desert makes me thirsty

Wow, this is getting long....you probably need a break....

To be continued....