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More Moab Moments

Jason and I recently traveled back to Moab for another long weekend of Sabin adventures.

This time, in addition to our usual hiking and biking, Jason requested that we do some river rafting. I was down with that. We went on a half day rafting trip down the Colorado River. It was surprisingly relaxing. It turns out that rafting mostly involves just chilling and chatting on the boat while you float through calm waters and wait for the occasional excitement of rapids.

Larry's Rock splashed me big time. Yes, that water glob with arms is me.

A few members of our group seemed content waiting indefinitely for some whitewater thrills. The first time we approached a section of rapids a lady sitting at the front of our raft became very concerned about being tossed into the river. The guide admitted that if anyone was going to fall in it would probably be the people at the tip of the vessel. Not surprisingly, this acknowledgement did not soothe her nerves. She promptly requested that someone switch places with her and her husband. Jason and I got volunteered by our guide for this switcharoo either because he had already ascertained that we welcome danger or that we’re wastes of flesh and therefore expendable. Whatever the reason, Jas and I didn’t mind being in the hot seats. However, I wasn’t too hip on getting a surprise river dip so, per our guide’s instructions, I wound my legs around parts of the raft to keep my booteh inside our boateh. All that fancy twisting worked, Jas and I did not end up being tossed overboard but we did get really, really wet. Good thing “getting wet” was on my river agenda. Rafting was a blast and I think Jas and I are up for trying a more demanding section of the river next time.

Lofty monoliths line the streets of Fisher Towers' sandstone cities.
We may not have made it to trail's end before the sun descended but we were immersed in vibrant crimsons much of the way up.

We got back from our dousing at nearly 5:00 that evening but decided that while there was still daylight there was still fun to be had. We assumed, incorrectly of course, that we could squeeze in a hike to the Fisher Towers before it got dark, which is about a 4.4 mile roundtrip. This hike is supposed to take 3 to 4 hours; we did it in 2. Despite our hurried pace, the sun had sunk below the horizon before we even reached the trail’s end. So we spent the first part of our trip back down nearly running in an attempt to cover as much ground as we could until we couldn’t see anymore. Once the landscape became too shadowed to distinguish we were forced to decrease our speed. Since this path travels over slickrock periodically, making small cairns the only trail markers in sections, it was pretty tricky to follow with minimal light. Fortunately, I had enough foresight to grab a flashlight out of the trunk of our car when we started out otherwise I think we would have had to find a cozy monolith to snuggle up to for the night.

The Titan, the largest of the Fisher Towers, rises a majestic 900 feet and attracts both rock climbers and moviemakers the world over.
Standing on a plateau above the Fisher Towers I paused briefly to take in the solitary desert as it was being rapidly subdued by darkness. Jason somehow captured that momentary pause with an enormous amount of pictures.

The next day we biked to a Canyonlands overlook on an ORV road that was pretty tame for the most part. This path did have some fun slickrock and bumpy sections to keep it interesting but the main draw of pedaling these 13.8 miles was definitely the views at the end. Being atop an immense plateau with 270 degrees of grandeur sprawled out below us in the form of the winding Colorado snaking along through a rainbow of whittled rock was well worth our efforts.

The rough road we took to the Canyonlands overlook wasn't without its appeal though it was much milder than our usual ride.
The view from the Lockhart Basin overlook was unbelievable. We stopped to rest, snack, and drop our jaws.
It's amazing how the Canyonlands landscape is briefly transformed by the setting sun into a fiery inferno. The alteration is so instantaneous and fleeting it's as if a match has lit the world and then, just minutes later, the consuming blaze has burned everything out.

The last hike we did before returning home was through Hunters Canyon. This canyon was its own kind of adventure; getting lost in it didn’t require the cover of darkness. The trail we followed was not well-worn and became nonexistent in the thickets or creek bed quite often. But it was a pretty 4 mile trek with flora, fauna, and trail forging aplenty, lots of the stuff that good hikes are made of.

This monstrous boulder spanned almost the entire width of Hunters Canyon so naturally Jason needed to climb it.
Jason took this fantastic picture of a dragonfly in Hunters Canyon. We saw a lot of wildlife in this narrow gorge: frogs, snakes, and, of course, a variety of unusual dragonflies.

We had another lovely trip to one of our favorite vacation locations. Oddly, this time we saw next to no one on all of our hiking and biking excursions because we either hiked at times of the day when only idiots would chose to go or because the trails we hit were a little lesser known. I’m not complaining though; I would never gripe about getting to hog gorgeous terrain all to myself.

No matter how many times we go to Moab we still always find new territory to discover and more adventures to be had. If you delight in the daring and relish unique beauty you will never leave Moab disappointed.

Rachel October 6, 2011 No Comments

The Filthy Mudbloods

There comes a time in the life of every runner when they need to leave the well kept sidewalks of the world behind and plunge right into the pigsty!

Jason and I, along with four of our compadres, did the dirty this year. The Dirty Dash is a 10K mud race that sends you scrambling through and over all sorts of obstacles including: muck-filled ditches, giant hay bales, soggy tunnels, impossibly high walls, mud pits, a sludgy lake, and of course the slop ‘n slide. Running doesn’t get any messier than this or any more comical!

I love that the bibs for this race listed not only your team number but also group and individual names.

We christened our team “The Filthy Mudbloods.” If you have read the Potter books you’re probably chuckling right now and, if you haven’t, you’re mostly likely shaking your head in bewilderment. I’m not explaining so just keep shaking your noggins or look it up on Wikipedia.

Our group made Hogwarts student hats, which were equipped with elastic bands to keep them on our heads, so the whole world would know that we are magically dork-a-licious. Additionally, Jason kindly sculpted wands for everyone out of wooden dowels. We kept them out and at the ready to obliterate any obstacles in our path as we ran, skipped, crawled, and trudged along. Although we did cast spells in concert as we threw ourselves at impediments, team problem solving proved slightly more useful to our cause than magic, howbeit less entertaining.

I had to have synchronized assistance on both sides of these walls to make it over. Luckily, the men were unusually helpful in this circumstance.
Abigail torpedoed out of her slide chute as catawampus as the rest of us.

Yes, we worked together and helped each other along using any means at our disposal: brute force, stabilizing hands, or just good old-fashioned encouragement. Admittedly, I was probably less helpful than most since I have the upper body strength of a gerbil but, thankfully, the men in our group harnessed their inner Neanderthal and picked up the slack. They offered themselves as steppingstones to propel the weaklings, like myself, over some of the hurdles we encountered. They also selflessly volunteered their assistance in the form of mud-flinging ambushes. There’s nothing like having an enormous glob of muck tossed at your head by one of your teammates to enliven you and expedite your devolution.

Jason's belly practically had its own river system when he emerged from the slop 'n slide. I guess some tummy gravel is just deserts for being determined to go headfirst.
Jeremy, like Jason, slipped down the slide headfirst. Yes, it hurt him too.

We had an unimaginably good time tramping through chest-high rank waters, balancing on thin boards precariously positioned above sloshing pits, and catapulting ourselves over towering walls. Of course, afterwards we literally had to be hosed off with a pressure washer to remove all of our dirt clumps. I took three showers and one bath on the day of the race and I still felt like I had woken up on the wrong side of the pigpen. You’d be surprised by how much grime can hide in your earlobes or unmentionable places.

Run, run as fast you can. You can't catch him he's the mud-splattered man!
A grimy grin on a mud-streaked face: incontrovertible evidence of a dirty good time.

In addition to the dirt farm you are forced to cultivate between your toes, in order to participate in this filth festival you must make one other sacrifice to the mire gods. For some reason encasing yourself in mud, running through murky water, sliding through soil, etc., etc., etc. sends your body into some sort of hypothermic state. You don’t notice it while you are intent on the race and frolicking about but shortly after you stop it all catches up to you and you become colder than you can remember being in your life, so chilled that you get a backache from the fierce shivers that are convulsing through your body. Brr!!!

While the rest of us opted not to cannonball into a mud pit, we all appreciated Jeremy's enthusiasm...even if it splashed us a lot.
And just kept on splashing us...

But, even with those scruples, would I recommend this race? Does a pig answer to the call of suey? If you run the dirty you will become grimier than you ever have been in your life x 100. You will not feel clean after multiple scrubbings and you will be inexplicably drained after all is said and done. But you will get to spend roughly an hour and 45 minutes* grinning from ear to ear while you unabashedly do all the things your mother always told you not to. So yes, I would definitely recommend The Dirty Dash and I plan on doing it again next year.

Our team definitely became filthy enough to deserve its Filthy Mudbloods title.

*Please note that this time estimate assumes a standard allotment of halting for mud chucking. Actual times may vary depending on personal hurling preferences.

 

Rachel September 28, 2011 2 Comments

Dodge That!

Jason and I lead a bit of a crazy life. If something sounds idiotic or ludicrous you can bet your bottom dollar we’ll be in for doing it. So it’s no shocker that we were up for being part of the largest dodgeball game in the world ever.

When we heard that a local company, Property Management Solutions, was putting together what they were hoping would be the biggest dodgeball game on record in the form of a rivalry match between the fans of two local colleges, BYU and U of U, we were willing ball fodder.

This huge game ended up being even huger than expected. Over 4,000 participants showed up to support their team and become world record holders. Since the U of U side was undermanned we decided to join its ranks. I really couldn’t care less about college sports or team rivalries so it was an easy choice.

Over 760 balls were used for this game, two hundred of which had to be overnighted when the number of estimated participants soared.

The instant the game started the field became a frenzied bedlam. Blue and red balls streamed through the air as if some divine power were frantically weaving a magnificent maypole across the sky. It was quite the sight but my enjoyment of my surroundings quickly decreased as the competition heated up.

I got nailed in the face three times over the space of about a minute near the beginning of the game, mostly because Jason wouldn’t stop distracting me with his complicated game strategy, which he was insistent on me implementing. After three whammies to the cranium I decided to separate my head (along with my body) from the path of those pesky balls thus ending my dodgy career. Now if you are thinking that a hit to the face is illegal in dodgeball, and punishable via the thrower being ousted from the game, you would be correct. But my hitters in blue feigned obliviousness to this rule. I saw nothing in the way of remorse or removal to indicate their acknowledgement of what they had done. Curse you sly throwers for making my discomfort of no strategic consequence!

I couldn't play dodgeball without donning some classic attire: knee-high socks, a headband, and short cutoffs. Other players took the look even further.

Yes, the BYU players, which outnumbered the reds about 3 to 1, pretty much cheated openly. Throngs of bluers that should have been leaving the match as they got hit remained on the field. Come on! Not only did you Y fans soil your goody two-shoes reputation for a trivial game but you outnumbered the U crowd so enormously that cheating was completely unnecessary to win. Shame on you! Granted, there were a few U tricksters as well but poor sportsmanship seemed much more rampant on the Y side of things, and of course I am completely unbiased in this observation.

Jason waited anxiously for the competition to start with the rest of the red team. We were so outnumbered that we knew this was a match few of us would survive.

Once again, as always, where crazy is Sabins follow. I’m glad that we witnessed and participated in this historic mayhem but I’m sad to say it left me with a bit of a headache and a disgruntled attitude for our friends in blue. Karma must have been taking note too because BYU miserably lost their football game to the U the following day. I guess your annoying little sister was right when she told you that cheaters never prosper.

By the way, I think we blew the world record out of the water but I haven’t heard anything official yet on that.

Rachel September 21, 2011 No Comments
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