Before the light began to show its hand, we each picked a spot on the sharply drawn horizon where we thought the sun would show. Dan called the rightmost summit of the ridge and was soon proven correct. The sun crested the mountain and drew with its light the slopes and broken trees of the landscape while, behind us, bushes bloomed out from the darkness in gold and green. As had often been the case, Moff and I gazed and took pictures, while Dan seemed satisfied with the experience alone.
We turned back towards camp and, like that, it was a bright morning. Where we had stumbled in the halo of headlamps on our way out, now we moved swiftly, rolling up sleeping pads and bags for the last time and breaking our trusty tent down once more. I happily rigged up the safety sac as my primary water supply for the walk and took my first pull. The night had chilled the water, but more refreshingly, it did not have the yellow tinge that the iodine had given the treated water. The safety sac had been untouched since Vegas; never has casino bathroom sink water tasted so good.
Once we were packed up, we looked around one final time, agreeing once more that that final spot had been the finest on the trip. We then back down the ridge to the trail, through the low brush of the trail back to Stave Spring, up the hill past our first night's campsite, through the high Ponderosa pines atop the mesa, then at last down the southeastern side. There was some light chatter on the trail and stops to share water as the other two main bladders went dry. I remember very little of the conversation, though, and more recall the lengths of time I spent moving forward while my brain kept me occupied with thoughts of prior trips to Vegas, of the changes of the past year, of the intricacies of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Once we got back out to the southern canyon, we began crossing paths with day hikers. A sight we must have looked, trudging along, probably not looking as thankful as we were that the packs were lighter for all the food and water consumed. At one point, we even ran into a couple with overnight packs heading up the trail. We stopped to chat with them, asking where they were headed. This was one of my first experiences with someone outside of the three of us remarking on our trip in such a way that I realized it was remarkable.
Us: How many nights are you staying in?
Them: One night, you guys?
Us: Just finished three.
Them: Nice, wow, how was the weather?
Us: Got better as it went. First night it snowed on us at night.
Them: No way. And did you bring all your water?
Us: Well, we refilled once, but the spring's dry, so we hiked 11 miles on Saturday down to Weeping Rock and back.
Them: Oh, jeez.
Us: Yeah...it was...kind of a lot actually. Anyway, have a nice time!
That four-hour hike out was definitely one of the hottest and most exposed and we embraced every shady spots, especially whenever the path swung upward and we had to resort to our previous stopping and starting. We had all the time in the world to get back out, so there was no need to push. The southeastern canyon was green and beautiful as it had been the first afternoon and became more lovely under a clear day, but it felt as though we were wading out of the park, the mesas growing smaller like waves breaking and running out up a shoreline. We hollered down Jolly Gulch, traversed familiar switchbacks, and celebrated our return to the canyon floor from which we'd begun.
Finally, we reached the blank face of the sign that welcomed the other side of the path to the Zion Wilderness, just in time as the safety sac was nearly done for. A few minutes later, we reached the car, attacking the trunk for whatever we each needed most. For me, it was sweet amnesty for my aching feet. My Achilles tendons had gone from a dull ache to occasional sharper pains, but all pain subsided as I slipped off my hiking shoes and slipped on my yoga mat flip flops. After the packs were loaded into the car and we set off down the road, I cooed at the delightfully soft soles and the freedom of my heels while Dan cranked the A/C and we yelled that now we could control the temperature, making us not unlike gods.
Though our hike was over, we were no less enamored with the sights of the park and I hung out over the dashboard.I took a lot of pictures, since the day was much brighter than our first, giving us the great contrast of the orange rocks and the blue sky.
The beautiful day had the park bustling and by the time we reached the Visitor Center, it was so packed we had to have Dan circle the lot while Moff got water and I shopped for gifts. I had nabbed a pin on the way in Friday, but after the experience, I wanted something a little more meaningful. I settled on a pack of playing cards with Zion images and a bandanna that depicted the park map, getting an extra two of each for the guys. Outside, Moff handed me a newly filled water bottle and I drank deeply as Dan walked up from parking the car. As they drank and hit the restrooms, I called Mom to let her know we made it and wish her Happy Mother's Day a day late. I found out my cousins had told her about the snowfall and made a mental note to give them grief about providing information to make her nervous when I was completely out of pocket. It was strange to be so quickly reconnected with the world and when we drove out of the park, I tried to keep my cell phone use limited to my next job as navigator...
...finding the nearest Mexican place.
And so, maybe a half an hour later, the three of us sat in a cushy booth in the long, narrow dining room of Lupitas Mexican Food in Hurricane, feasting on tortilla chips and annihilating our glasses of water. It was still far, far too early to be messing with alcohol, but we risked coffee and devoured combo plates of various stripes. It was an excellent victory lap.
Dan handled the long drive back to Vegas like a champ. We discussed trips we'd taken as kids, including my trips with Dad in Arizona and New Mexico. I was very thankful to have someone as experienced as Dan on the trip and even more appreciative of the time spent with him and Moffet over the prior two months. While both our run in Milwaukee and the Zion campaign have shown me some of my body's limitations, they nonetheless represented far more time than I'd spent with them in years and little will bond you like packing in for warmth in a snowbound tent.
At some point, Vegas erupted from the desert horizon and we rolled into the city beneath a broad blue sky and a fighter jet executing maneuvers high above us. We went straight to the Luxor and stepped out of the car into an oppressive heat that quickly made us miss the mesa. We shouldered our packs again along with our other luggage, then tramped from the parking deck into the blasting A/C and flashing madness of the Luxor's casino. Thankfully, our room was ready and, against the laws of God and engineering alike, took the diagonal elevator up the side of the giant pyramid to our room. No doubt our fellow riders were happy to see us depart the elevator; our freshly cleaned room was in for a rude awakening.
We dumped our packs and began making piles to make sure everyone took home what was theirs. I pulled first shower and experienced the bliss of warm water and the horror that was my matted, crispy hair. I emerged a new man as I had that morning from the park itself and put on my beloved "Prose Before Hos" shirt and some shorts. Being Action Variant Ian had been fun, but it felt good to don the cowl once again. Dan showered next while I completely repacked, then he and I left Moffet to follow suit while we returned the rental to an Enterprise dealership off the strip.
While that big glitzy roadside sign is nice, nothing quite says Welcome to Vegas like passing a guy in the walkway out of the Luxor, then hearing a sickening noise and turning to see that he has veered to the side of a pillar and yakked his brains out. We quickened our pace.
Dan: You know what's really messed up?
Ian: What?
Dan: He was coming from SELF parking.
Yeesh.
After dropping off the car just off the east side of the strip, Dan and I texted Moff to meet us and crossed over to the Bellagio. We decided to grab our first beers, so we walked into the lobby beneath that beautiful Chihuly ceiling. I looked down through to the atrium where I'd stood in line for a buffet brunch with Shire and others on my first trip to Vegas, light beer in hand. Beyond was the hallway to the back tower where Ali and I had stayed a night and almost two more before we decided that our $500+ winnings were best spent elsewhere, including poolside at the Tropicana. It was nice reminiscing, but it still felt terrifically odd to be in such an opulent place after waking up that morning on the ground.
Dan and I walked up to the first bar we could find where a delightful English bartender saw my shirt and said "Alright, let's have a quote then." If only the Henry V lines could have covered the drinks as well. We returned to the front lagoon where Moffet joined us in time for the fountains. There we stood, three men who had walked 11 miles round trip for water two days earlier, watching it swirl, dance, and fly through the air.
I think that comparison broke Vegas for me. Just three hours away was some of the most arresting scenery I'd ever seen, and while the three of us had a fun night drinking, walking the Strip, eating at the Carnegie Deli, and playing lots of losing blackjack, I was having more fun with Chris and Dan than I was having with Vegas herself. Perhaps it was just too much input so soon after the wilderness. I'm sure I'll go back soon; after all, my previous visits had been more about the company, too. I just couldn't shake the weariness with it all, though. By the time we returned to the Luxor to play a few more hands of blackjack, I was just ready to sleep.
Man, did that bed feel nice, though.
We all caught a cab together the next morning and said our goodbyes after sitting a while at a Starbucks in the ticketing area. I thanked Dan and Moff again for inviting me and they thanked me again for coming. I also told them that syncing my FitBit from the hikes had vaulted me to the top ten in my office Steps Challenge, a victory we could claim as one.
After I went through security in another terminal, I realized I hadn't been on my own for longer than a bathroom break for almost 40 hours straight. I'd slept less than a foot from another person for the last five nights. Even during my silent stretches over the last two days of the hike, the guys were there. It was a strange feeling of isolation to have in a busy airport.
I found a seat at Ruby's Diner and ordered a hot breakfast and a glass of water. When the water came, I took the little paper cap off the straw and drank it staring out at the mountains outside of town. The glass was empty in less than a minute.
No comments:
Post a Comment