Little Big Rain

As I set off for a casual mountain bike ride, I didn't believe it would rain. How could rain come from such puny far-away clouds? Two miles down the dirt road big fat drops plopped on my bare arms. I welcomed any moisture and charged forward in the cooling wetness. Then I relented and put on my nylon "water-resistant" jacket. The sky above me was still blue. Thunder cracked above the side canyons. I found some shelter under the canopy of an old Juniper tree. The huge raindrops turned the dirt road into a bubbling mass of miniature suction- cups. I smelled the steamy mud. Twenty feet away a new channel of foamy water gushed over the road to force its way to Alvey Wash. This new water-channel was like a hunting dog on a scent. Nothing would deter its course. I waited for the rain to let up.
Ten years or so ago, a big monsoon rainstorm hit our desert home. Our boys played in the mud and tried to block the waterways that played havoc through our yard. The trenches still exist. During the storm we raced to Alvey Wash and was rewarded with red rapids of churning water. Debris of tree branches, pine needles, boulders, plowed through the once dry bed. It took out chunks of the banks as it curled around corners. Expert kayakers would have had a hard time navigating through this force of water. We were in awe.
Twenty wet minutes later I ventured from beneath the Juniper and pedaled my way back to the house. It was like parting the red sea as my fat bike tires split the water. A newborn river crossed my pathway that had taken out part of the road stopped my passage. Patience. I walked up and down this new watercourse to find a way to jump it. Ten minutes later I forged through this brooklet. I made it back home, albeit muddy and soaked, pleased the monsoons have arrived.

The Lost Birthday Wish

Ever gotten lost? You know that disorientated, heart-racing surge of where-am-I doom feeling for hours? You probably haven't if you've stayed on the designated trails.
Yesterday I left the known path and crossed down boulder fields to reach an alpine lake nestled in pines and cattails. Just a little side adventure. I wanted to help fulfill my friend's birthday wish of swimming in an alpine lake. After the icy plunge, we climbed over the dumpster-sized boulders back to our Great Western Trail. Thirty minutes later we still hadn't reached the well-marked GWT path and decided to return to the boulder field. We never did find those particular rocks. The downed dense timber slowed us but we persevered through thick folage as evening descended. I realized we were walking in circles because my shadow followed me from different sides. Finally we stumbled on a creek and we hacked our way down the stream until it became a marsh.
I took stock of what I had on me to survive the night: small knife, a tarp, quart of water, some jerky, fleece headband and my dog. Knowing I could live through the night kept me calm and moving.
Back up the creek, we crashed through twisted branches and soft satuated soil. We didn't know where else to go but higher to spy any landmarks we knew above the trees.
After three hours my girlfriend got her birthday wish: She found the Great Western Trail after her swim. This is her lost birthday present. Next year will be the year of the compass and map.

The Echo Effect

I remarked last week to my husband as we slogged up the Esplanade in the Grand Canyon, how the Escalante canyons could look like this without the cows.
We can drive to the pristine North Rim of the Grand Canyon in 2 hours SW from Escalante. Grand Canyon is a national treasure with it's untrampled cyptrogamic soil, indigenous plants and critters, and relative low tourist impacts. Yes, the springs that spout from rock walls have visitor damage from the Colorado River's easy access. Five days of hiking in and out the North Rim is only the tip of the Grand Canyon.
To the north of Escalante (hour and half away) the girls from Colorado and I road biked though another National Park - Capital Reef. The Fremont river cuts through sheer stained walls with its own set of canyons. Capital Reef is surrounded by pinnacles and castles and a few gargoyles. I broke my personal fastest record riding down to the visitor center: 40.9 MPH. I almost fell off my bike going up the same hill, pedaling too slow: 3.5 MPH. At least I was slow enough to see blooming Desert Paintbrush and Penstemons.
Bryce National Park surprised me last winter to have been able to skate-ski through vast pine forests. Only 45 minutes west of Escalante, Bryce's red canyons and forests are obtainable year-round. This is the most photogenic park with its endless hoodoos.
I'm listening to the echo effect from the other national parks as the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument develops it's own voice.