Moab Canyonlands
I’m back!
What a great trip! I flew to Denver to see my cousin Kim (and her hubby Danny and terrific 11-yr old Zach), then we drove over the Rockies to Moab Utah. Her Dad (my Uncle) and his lovely wife Donna arranged this river trip down the Green and Colorado Rivers. Two of my other cousins, Allen and Paul (sons of my father’s sister Aunt Joyce and Uncle Ray) were also part of the trip, as well as Donna’s son Adam and his gorgeous girlfriend Veronica.
What a time we had! We saw multi-colored geckos. We climbed what John refers to as “globulars.” We accidently kicked cactai while wearing Tevas – big toe, ouch. We saw big black tadpoles in what looked like temporary pools. We hiked into canyons of all kinds. One was layered in mud light as whipped cream. Another terminated in a huge spiral structure with rocks full of holes, with spritzing water from somewhere impossibly high above – probably a waterfall in another season. We almost got semi-lost (note the qualifiers) at twilight. There were monumental structures like Turk’s Head surrounded by tundras of grasses and cactus and jasper. Our last campsite even had a sandy beach. Astonishing that I have incipient bicep-like bumps on my arms from lugging gear, setting up camp, and strenous paddling!
We really only had to paddle hard on two days – once to beat another group to a campsite, and the other when we passed the confluence of the Green River and went into the Colorado. There were serious headwinds, enough to create waves in the wrong direction. If the canoe went sideways at all, the current would pull one way from underneath, and the wind would push the other way from on top! A couple of scary moments here and there – but no-one tipped!
The company was very fine – the exertion required was challenging but not overwhelming – and I haven’t laughed so long and hard in years. Stories for years to come, and I’ll be adding a section on my website with photos pretty soon.
On the way back home on the Atlanta MARTA train, I saw lighting strike a telephone pole right in front of me, sparks flying. Conversations struck up all around me – “did you see that? wow!” I talked to a big blue-collar meat-cutter recently transplanted from Detroit and curious about Atlanta neighborhoods, a very effusive and charming queen who wanted to know the secret of my youthful appearance, and three heavily pierced and tattooed young people working on a documentary – who conferred on the kind of tattoo they would recommend for me (something diagonal across the hip – perhaps a vine – was the consensus).
From start to finish it was a wonderful adventure. Sunburned, mosquito-bitten and happy am I.