Day Four - What Happens in Vegas...

Stays in Vegas.

Day Three - The Delicate Divas

We were both alive the next day.

Mission. Accomplished.

We are going to inundate you with pictures of the Delicate Arch, and you better not complain because we had to climb a mountain to get there. But first, a story.

Picture this: Maure had talked up the hike to the Delicate Arch, so we saved it for the last day and we were prepared. At the base (notice I said "base" and not "start") of the trail, we climb out of the car looking like swamp monsters (we hadn't showered since Lazy Lizard, and, not only was that questionable (the shower was a little ... green), remember that this was before Shimmy Shuster and Indiana Effin Jones made their cameos). A tall dark gorgeous foreign couple pulls up next to us in a shiny sports car and leaves us behind to slather sunscreen on every inch of exposed skin. Now we look like shiny coconut-scented swamp monsters. We make a big fuss of packing our backpack, double knotting our tennis shoes, and stretching with enthusiastic grunts before embarking. Now Elise (who promised to carry the backpack if Bailey would do the hike with her) looks like a shiny Hunchback of Notre Dame swamp monster. So Elise has the backpack hiked up on her shoulders, Bailey has the camera slung over her arm with Gil the mascot in her hand, and we begin the hike, two swamp monsters and a guinea pig who are already huffing and puffing in the morning sun. Only two steps on the trail we are passed by three skinny British jerks in flip-flops, swinging their waterbottles like they were going for a casual stroll through the park. We didn't know if we should laugh or cry, follow them or turn back immediately. When it started to get rough, we didn't know if we should be reassured or shamed by the elderly with canes and small children below our knees coming down the other way.

But we pressed on:

Along the way, we found a Gil-sized Arch:

We named ourselves "The Delicate Divas":

And it was totally worth it:

View from the top:

In this picture you can see that the drop-off behind the Arch was quite steep and the path up to the Arch was sloped. We thought the view was exhilerating. Julia's mom did not. Julia's mom was plastered against the rock wall that circled the slope down to the Arch, her face white, her hands desperately grasping at the wall behind her, her mouth in a perpetual terrified "O." As her daughter inched toward the Arch, mom screamed "JULIA! Dont! You! Dare!" Julia, unaffected, simply rolled her eyes and yelled back "Mom! I'm not going to die" as she sidled along the rim. Thus, these strangers became infamously known to all the onlookers as JULIA! and her mom. Her mom, now purple with the exhertion of screaming and of holding her self rigid against the rock, was gasping for air. "JULIAAH!" Don't take another step! JULIA! Do you hear me?" And then, "I can't move! I can't. I. can't. move." After seeing that she was, in fact, petrified, Elise made her way over, but a nice man beat her to it and with a little coercion (aka. physical force and shouting) walked Julia's mom to safety.

Elise (aka the Swamp Thing of Notre Dame) safely perched above our glorious destination:

Scrambling up a rock at the bottom:

Look Ma! No Hands! Elise's Delicate Diva pose:

And a close-up:

Acting tough:
And a close-up:
Elise's Favorite:
Bailey (aka the Swamp Thing formerly known as Medusa) and the view opposite the arch:

Scrambling up a rock at the bottom: Bailey Speck #1:
Bailey Speck #2:

Bailey Speck #3:

And one very Delicate Diva:

When the park rangers had finished rolling us down the mountain, we took off for Vegas, a shock to the system after the red rock desert.

The Completed Moab Experience - Day 2, Part 2

We were exhausted at this point, but Elise insisted on seeing the rest of the park.

Bailey's new boyfriend He's a rock:

Another poetic dead tree:
Elise standing between some "fins":

See if you can spot the design in the rock. We nicknamed this the "Lounging Lady":
Still, exhausted, we finally left the park and mustered up the energy to walk around downtown to see all the boutiques, bookstores, and coffee shops. Admittedly, we didn’t make it far before we fell into some comfy bookstore chairs. Elise picked up Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert by Terry Tempest Williams and it was all over. The book is a call for the preservation of America’s Redrock Wilderness in the canyon country of southern Utah. We were moved by her description of the landscapes we had spent the past few days exploring. Elise wished she had written the following (in fact she’s pretty sure she has written some of the following.) Edit: Terry Tempest Williams broke into our apartment, dug through our personal effects, and stole the following:

“I believe we are in the process of creating our own mythology, a mythology born out of this spare, raw, broken country, so frightfully true, complex, and elegant in its searing simplicity of form. You cannot help but be undone by its sensibility and light, nothing extra. Before the stillness of sandstone cliffs, you stand still, equally bare.”

“There are moments when I long for the canopy and cover of a forest to hide in, to breathe in, to breathe with, and delight in the growing shades and patterns of green. I never forget I inhabit the desert, the harsh, brutal beauty of skin and bones.”

“It’s tough country to visit. It’s even tougher country to live in.”

“What you come to see on the surface is not what you come to know. Emptiness in the desert is the fullness of space, a fullness of space that eliminates time. The desert is time, exposed time, geologic time. One needs time in the desert to see.”

Fueled by inspiring words and good coffee, we headed back into town. We were a little rowdy:

After delaying the inevitable, it was time once again for us to venture out to the campground of doom. We had, of course, already paid for two nights when the raging sandstorm hit and we knew that we had to try again. As we drove in, the sun was going down and the view was breathtaking: (Note: If you look at the left side of this picture, you can see a small slice of the road we drove on to get into this place. Our Sunny has superpowers. So does Bailey.)

Feet on the Dash

We had the perfect evening at the campground. We hiked back into the canyon behind our site, played card games, roasted hotdogs on a lovely fire, and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the area. However, as soon as the lights went out, we were both wide awake and shaking in our boots, terrified that another storm would hit. Holding strong to our bravado, neither of us made a peep, convinced that the other was already sleeping and determined not to be the scaredy cat. It was not a restful night.

Shimmy Shuster and Indiana Effin Jones - Day 2, Part 1

After leaving the Lazy Lizard with the universe’s good vibes in tow, we headed into town for some coffee (for the addict in residence) before we hit the trails. EclectiCafe was appropriately named. The waitress wore a frilly pink apron that said “May I have a café mocha vodka valium to go please?” Elise, of course, loved the giant tiled mug pictured here. She insisted on taking lots of pictures. This is Bailey’s favorite. As you can see, Elise and the giant mug had a love thing.

Although Bailey wasn’t feeling well after injesting too much sand the night before, she was a good sport and we headed to Arches National Park right away. We traded photo-ops with a group of French hikers. They were very particular about their picture: Bailey had to try two times before they were satisfied.

Our first destination was the “Park Avenue Trail.” Bailey wasn’t up to walking the trail, so Elise hiked it alone. Here she is before starting the trail:

The hike was inspiring. Elise took lots of pictures to show Bailey, mostly of dead trees. She thinks dead trees are poetic:

As we drove towards “Balanced Rock”

we looked for shapes in the rocks and thought it was strange that each formation was more interesting once we found something to associate it with. Take “The Organ,” for instance:

or the “Three Gossips”:

We decided that this place was so foreign that the only way to make sense of it was to search for something familiar even if that meant distorting what we saw to make it fit an image we could wrap our minds around. From then on, we decided to try to let the landscape open us up to new shapes, ideas, and experiences.

Next, we stopped at “Turret Arch”

“the Windows”

“Double Arch”:



















This is where today’s title comes from. “Shimmy Shuster” and “Indian Effin Jones” were our hiking names for the day. Elise was “Shimmy Shuster” because she shimmied as high as she could go up each arch:

Bailey was “Indiana Effin Jones” because she didn’t die.

Day One - The Tormented Trail

After a tearful goodbye to our urban family in Logan, we climbed into our trusted steed and drove off into the sunrise blasting country music.

The drive into Moab took our breath away. Sarah recommended the most beautiful secluded campground. This was our drive into the site:

So quiet... so peaceful...

It was picture perfect. We couldn't stop squealing like little girls (as we are known to do) and singing Sarah's praises.

Little did we know…
1. That our newly-pitched tent, in the most beautiful campground either of us has ever seen, would soon be torn out of the ground by gale-force winds hurtling down through the canyon.

Little did we know...
2. Canyons become wind tunnels in Moab.

Little did we know...
3. Elise would soon sacrifice herself to the wilderness. As Bailey ran to check phone service, Elise lay face down, spread eagle on the tent as it billowed up around her and then lifted her inches off the ground as sand filled her mouth, stung her eyes, and found its way into more… unmentionable areas.

Little did we know...
4. Sandstorms become mudstorms in Moab. Just add water.
Edit: Elise lay face down, spread eagle on the tent as mud filled her mouth, stung her eyes, and coated her rear end.

Little did we know...
5. We do not get cell service in the canyons of Moab.

Little did we know...
6. It is impossible to take down a tent in gale-force winds. Instead, Bailey rolled the tent, and all of its contents (including Elise, who was, by now, indistinguishable from the mud-red tent), into a ball and shoved it into the trunk.

Little did we know...
7. That driving out of the canyon would be just as spectacular as driving in, but for different reasons: lightning flashing in the distance, new waterfalls gushing down the sides of the mountains, hail pounding the roof of our car. Or, in other words (as Bailey’s family might say): Thunder and Lightning, Earthquakes and Fire.

We parked in a mud puddle. Cried. Called our mommies (and our sis). Then drove into town.
Town, however, proved to be thoroughly unhelpful. As we drove down the main strip we noticed a curious thing: the stoplights were out. When we pulled into the first motel on the right, a nice Indian man told us “In this dark, I am blind.” Literally, this meant the power was out all over town and he didn’t know if he had a vacancy because his computer was down. Elise, however, thinks it’s a metaphor.

We finally determined that we would try the Lazy Lizard International Hostel, because we figured they would be lo-tech enough to check us in without power. We were right. The squeaky front door, for instance, advertised its new technology “New! Automatic self-closing door!” The place was run by a balding bearded man wearing an oversized Lazy Lizard t-shirt with holes along the seams. At the front desk, a sign advertised “Yes! We have free wife-eye!” Everybody was congregated outside with raincoats and umbrellas, huddling around a gas grill, swapping stories about the storm. We had the best one.

Picture this: We were crusty with red Moab mud as we stumbled down the stairs. Bailey carried in the entire bundled tent (and contents) also crusty with red Moab mud. Elise followed behind with everything else and dinner (which consisted of mustard, lettuce, and tortillas). We didn't even have to tell our story to get nods of approval from the congregation (bikers, chicks with 10-inch dreads, international rock climbers in gear, etc).

The next morning we made friends with the men lounging outside drinking coffee. We were making such a racket trying to clean our tent and pack everything back up that they thought our car was broken. Elise gave them a good laugh acting out the night's adventure.

Here is documentation of the Lazy Lizard:

This man sent all his positive vibes into the universe for us. It lasted a couple days.