A Walk in my Backyard.

We played hooky on Saturday and went for a really intense hike down on the desert. The evening before, we loaded up the camping gear and left town with Ricki and Sandy...again. They are very good at cajoling us to leave the store and do things in the wilderness, which is truly the reason that we moved here. This time, it was personal.

Husband and I have a few canyons on our "list" of hikes that we have not been able to get to, for one reason or another. It was now or never. And now was great, because the weather was great. And by great, I mean that it was fan-fucking-tastic. Day weather? Low 80s. Night? We were in t-shirts and shorts all night--no fleece, no pants, no extra clothes. It was beautiful...and the night sky from the most remote area in the lower 48? Incomparable, as usual. We saw many shooting stars, too. When I awoke at 3:30 a.m. I needed to "go outside," and so I did wearing only my shoes. The night sky and the air temperature could not have been more perfect. It will be a fond memory for me.

The food that we all packed was pretty great, too. Husband made an incredible chicken and Jasmine rice stew with leeks. Sandy made these delicious appetizers with cream cheese, dill and capers, topped with cold grilled salmon and cold sauteed veggies. She served them up on a multi-grain cracker with some sauvignon blanc. It was delicious. She claimed that it would have been better with goat cheese, and I do not doubt that, but it was pretty damn good as is. She also whipped up a simple salad from garden tomatoes and red onion with olive oil, etc. It was perfect with the chicken stew. Throw in a few cold Apricot Hefeweizens (unfiltered wheat beer) from Wasatch Beers, add a camp fire, and presto! It was a perfect "around-the-camp" night.

The next day, we packed our gear and packed for the hike. It began easily enough, just walking over fairly level sandstone heading down to a drainage that we thought might be the canyon we were seeking (it was--by sheer luck). It began to get a bit harder as we hiked on. It turned into a fairly physically intense effort as we trekked over the petrified sand dunes that are, in this age, Navajo Sandstone mounds. My calves still ache, even today. We found an old cattle trail down into the canyon, where we found running spring water, Cottonwood trees, and the old red walls and black stripes that typify this terrain. And with the touch of fall on the leaves, it added an extra kick of color to the already surreal landscape that these oases imbue. We had lunch and poked around, but realized that we needed to depart if we were to get back to town that evening.

We climbed out and found our way back to the car; the hike had taken about eight hours in total. We were all tired, and the drive back into town from where we were was no joyride, to be sure. The sighting of a HUGE Tarantula spider was a nifty aside as we departed. It would be almost two hours on the worst dirt road you can imagine (yeah--but then it's actually worse than that) before the lights of our mean little town appeared on the horizon. It was a great adventure, and now Ricki is talking about a backpack, which I could be up for, absolutely. But that road! Ack! What sacrifices we make when we are hooked on beauty...what aggravations we tolerate when nature calls in all her largesse...