“The next time you attempt to kill me, please choose something faster and less painful than a four-and-a-half hour hike through the desert at the sunniest and hottest times of the day.”
We headed to Arches National Park for the day. Our brilliant plan was to get there early and do the longest hike first (when it was cooler) and then see some of the short distance arches in the heat of the day. Somehow, early ended up being 9:45am, but it didn’t occur to either of us that we might want to alter our plans. Nor did it occur to me (despite our hiking experiences from earlier in the trip) that hiking 7.5 miles in Arches National Park might take a little bit longer than walking 7.5 miles down paved city sidewalks. The latter I could do, at a brisk pace, in about two hours. The former?
Well, let’s just say that we had succeeded in finding a place that was neither wet, cold, or cloudy. And a place where that 7.5 miles takes more like 4.5 hours, in the middle of the day, in a place that is hot and sunny, did not make a happy camper out of this one.
Our [very late] lunch after surviving the gauntlet revived me somewhat, but I was still pretty wiped out. I suspect that I may have been close to heat exhaustion. Instead of taking the rest of the day off, as I perhaps should have, we successfully located a local [somewhat secret from tourists] swimming hole. Getting to a place where we could actually swim required more hiking. While changing into my swimsuit, I discovered a weird rash on my ankles, which did not make me excited. We did more wading than actual swimming, but the water was refreshing. Other than looking freakish for the next few days, the rash on my legs never bothered me — no itching or pain. Despite my initial fear that it was something chemical, like poison ivy, my best guess is that it was heat rash, albeit in an unusual place.
Having learned from the previous day’s mistake, we hit the trail by 8:15am and had a much better time of it. Still exhausted from yesterday, and not wanting to push too much this time, I voted for turning around before reaching the Morning Glory Bridge at the end of Negro Bill’s Canyon. Again, I was wondering, how can it possibly be taking us 30 minutes to cover 1 mile?!?
We headed back into Moab for a so-so lunch at a local restaurant. I was washing my hands in the restroom at the same time as another woman, and she was standing there, letting the water run, while she looked in the mirror and fussed with her hair. Hello, water waster! In case you haven’t noticed, you are in the DESERT, and while conserving water is always a good thing, it is an especially good thing here. In the desert. I just barely restrained myself from reaching in front of her and turning off the tap, and I rather wish that I had exercised less restraint.
After an unsuccessful attempt to find wine we liked on a visit to a local winery, we returned to the campsite for the evening, too tired to drive to Arches and watch the sunset, as originally planned.
Homeward bound, on I-70 headed toward Denver. Kind of like our experience hiking, we underestimated the time it would take us to drive through the Rockies. We’re on an interstate, we’ll be going, like, 80mph the whole time — or not. With only a short stop for lunch, it took us seven hours to drive 350 miles, putting us in Denver just in time for rush hour. Yay!
We pushed on through into Kansas, where we caught some free wireless internet and found a bed and breakfast for the night in WaKeeney, KS. We enjoyed real beds and not having to unpack and set up the tent just to take it down the next morning.
Our hosts provided a lovely breakfast the next morning, the highlights of which were their garden grown cantaloupe, tomatoes, basil, and rosemary.
We hit the road, pausing for a short interlude so that we would arrive home after the evening rush hour. The few hours between arriving at our apartment and delivering the Prius to its rightful owners was very stressful, as our neighbors have recently taken to playing bumper cars with our vehicles. People, this is not a carnival ride! (And that “little hit” you delivered to the corner of our front bumper a few weeks ago is going to cost $1000 to repair!)
Anyway, the Prius survived unscathed, and we enjoyed a weekend to unwind before heading back to w-o-r-k. The end.