The Southwest - Part 12

So now that  the booze has run out   the semester is finished, it's time to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

I'm back at my local coffee shop and it feels good (I found my old butt groove).  Unfortunately, writing in public means I no longer get to type away in my underpants.  Or as I call them, my "brainstorming briefs".  Alas, Bridgehead has a strict pants policy (I asked).  Stop smothering my creativity!

Misunderstood artistic expression aside,  I now proudly present the triumphant return of The Southwest!


August 27th - Back on the Colorado: this time it's personal

For those of you who remember the Duckie Incident you know that the Colorado River and I have a history.  By that I mean it wants to kill me.  Probably because I kept peeing in it.

Still alive against all odds, we decided the best thing to do was tempt fate again by going whitewater rafting in a place called Westwater Canyon.

You may know it better as the River Styx

THIS is Westwater Canyon:

















Now most people opt for the raft where the guide paddles for you (pictured above).  As should already be evident by now, we are not most people.  Most people, as it turns out, are sane.

We opted for the DIY approach: a bunch of untrained tourists wielding plastic paddles that I'm almost certain said Fisher Price on them somewhere.  I was scared to check.

There were eight people to a boat.  At first.  And guess what?  We were randomly teamed up with the French guys!  Who by now were clearly spying on us.

So we plunged into the Colorado with reckless abandon.  I don't remember much else after that, although my vocabulary of French swear words has now vastly expanded.

Afterwards, the survivors all cracked open some Coors (Regular Coors guys!  It's real!) while we floated back to Moab. 

Along the way we passed some Canada Geese.  In August.  As our guide informed us, apparently these guys have figured out that it's actually always warm there and that that whole migration thing is for suckers. 

Which I guess means they're just geese now.

The Southwest - Part 11

So I was up at four a.m. this morning.

Because I'm AWESOME that's why.

Had you asked me last week about the dawn I would have told you it's a myth, like dragons.  Or gravity.  But lo and behold, it exists.  I have seen it.

After plugging away at french homework for a while (I'm awesome, remember?) I decided to catch up on some long overdue sleep writing.  Because that's what sane people do.

So in order to please my adoring fan base assuage my conscience, I present to you the Southwest Part 11!


August 26th - The Road Less Traveled (because it's not a damn road)

Remember travel tips 1 and 2?

Allow me to explain.  My father is the kind of environmental crusader who, when he went to empty our trash bag, came back with all the bottles and cans that had been misplaced, tragically, into the Moab garbage bins.  This actually led to a net gain of refuse in our tiny hybrid car.

If I wanted to rebel, all I'd have to do is fail to compost an apple core.

It should here also be noted that, whatever else he is, my dad is the kind who will drive across the country doing dangerous things with his son because he loves him.  So he gets a pass.

But I digress.  Today was a day I'd been looking forward to.  Today we went trail riding.  And I use the term "trail" lightly.  The barren hellscape that surrounds Moab just goes to show why everyone but the Mormons had the good sense to keep moving.

Nevertheless, it is absolutely stunning.  Observe:

"I can make it."

Note: that picture is actually me.

Also Note: I look hawt in bike shorts.  (Thank you for noticing)

Now I thought I knew mountain biking.  Evidently, I was wrong.  If you want to know what riding around Moab is like, picture corporal punishment.  That's it.  You're done.

My butt cheeks still aren't speaking to me.  

The views were, as per usual, spectacular.  We also ran into a charming group of french guys along the trail.  We compared maps, bruises and last will and testaments exit strategies.

After the ride we decided to explore the town, since the last thing we wanted to do was sit down. 

It is around this part of the trip that I came up with this:


The Four Stages of Adventure Trips

1) Finally!  An excuse to eat cliff bars again.

2) Another cliff bar?  Why not!

3) I'd kill you for a salad.

4) I can't remember my last bowel movement.