The weather seemed convinced I should turn around, but it was bluffing. Mostly.
Bego and I caught the last rays of the sun from The Knoll.
Coop and RJ pointing out something or another as the moon rose over the La Sals.
And the sun set over Canyonlands.
And boom, off we went down the Shaefer Trail, about a thousand feet down.
Lunch at Musselman Arch
Me taking a picture of Bego, taking a picture of Heather, taking a picture of Coop and Lori.
Grunting up a long grade.
A few repairs.
Me pitching my new tent.
It says it goes up in three seconds, but its faster than that. Plenty of time to bake Chili Rellenos.
It is ridiculously spectacular out there.
If someone ever tells you to get lost, this might be a good spot to try.
Pushing up Murphy’s Hogback, as our sag wagons motor up with the goods. And beer.
Me skittering down Murphy’s Hogfront in the morning.
Coop examining the local fauna.
Triops, or Tadpole Shrimp. Most peculiar creatures. One of them was swallowing another one of them. We left.
Across the bottomless Black Crack.
A chilly, spitty evening followed by a lovely dawn.
The last morning was a double grind–up over Hardscrabble, then up over 1000 feet from Mineral Bottom to Mineral Top. First gear all the way. Huffin’ and a’puffin. But my new knees did just great the whole trip. And that was that.
Andy’s was especially cool.
My costume was less than ideal for the chilly night.
Then back home to Flagstaff to watch our brief autumn descend into winter. Rain is turning to snow as I type.
This isn’t a boat either. Since there is a brief vacancy in my apartment, we took the opportunity to tear into the walls and put in sound insulation. And make a very large mess.
And launch my local democratic socialist campaign
But finally I couldn’t avoid it any longer. A boat showed up. We have been giving it some sweet gunwale love. A few more distractions and the first build of the winter begins.