Easter in 2020 was weird. The Easter bunny left things way out in the street since he wasn’t comfortable getting any closer. This year, it was less strange while still being nonstandard, but Jason and I made holiday glucose spikes possible through a few enigmatic modifications. Let me sugar coat and nougat fill the tale for you.
Like most of you, Jason and I thought everything would be so normal by this Easter that kids would be crawling over each other for a Tootsie Roll. We were wrong. Although some sections of my family were fully vaccinated before Easter, for obvious reasons the kiddos were not amongst those. Therefore, we felt a hunt where all social distancing would be discarded in the name of honeyed loot was not the best idea. The two of us came up with another option no less sugar laden.
We stuffed colorful baskets with plenty of candy from several high-end and thematic sources and provided a variety of gift cards from which each kid could pick. For the record, I don’t think the children would have noticed if their candy came from the seamy end of a Styrofoam plant, as long as it was sugar infused.
Our nieces and nephews received as many sweets as we could stuff.
What to do about the golden eggs? Usually, the golden eggs are the most coveted portion of the hunt as there are only a few of them, and they contain cash. Last year, we took pictures of the eggs in hiding, and the kids had to find them in photo form to receive them in non-picture format. This year, we did riddle solving via a custom-made online survey to decide who got golden. The winners still had to select an egg from those available with limited knowledge of contents. Each egg contained $5-$40, but we increased that spread from 25 cents to 50 dollars when we reported it to the kids, which had the desired impact of making them more nervous about picking than necessary.
The Easter Bunny made our nieces and nephews both excited and uneasy this year, as he should, and he made Jason and I puzzled over how to provide gooey, sticky, sweetened treasures without providing COVID contact. I think we riddled it out.
Currently, summer is blazing. The planet feels parched and toasted. Five or six months ago, we should have been in the middle of winter’s tempers and flurries, but, unlike summer, winter was rather a flop. However, one week in February brought all that winter should be- briefly. I will cover the limited topic of snowshoeing through that period now, perhaps less briefly than its own briefness might merit.
In my opinion, a Jason is an essential component of any adventure.Last winter, the outdoors continued to be a lifeboat that kept us afloat.
Although we went snowshoeing in late December and on New Year’s Day, the bulk of our participation in that sport last winter happened in the space of just one week, during which we went out on three occasions. A storm unloaded so much snow in that span, it’s miraculous we were able to find three safe days and locations; avalanche danger was extreme in many places. For instance, conditions were so hazardous in Little Cottonwood Canyon that guests were “interlodged” for days at its ski resorts, meaning not allowed to even leave their lodges. Where did we find lower-risk terrain? We went to the Mill Canyon Trail in American Fork Canyon, South Maple Hollow at Suncrest, and then back again to Mill Canyon monitoring avalanche threats and carrying a heap of avalanche gear each time.
The fun of trail blazing is slightly dampened by the work involved.These hillsides seemed forgotten in their warped layers even though rows of nearby houses belied that impression.
Surprisingly, the best snow of the three outings was found at Suncrest, the place we thought we would find the most tracks and substandard accumulation. The powder was so deep at South Maple Hollow, sometimes past our knees, that we couldn’t accurately discern routes. That’s how we ended up on Zooropa, which is used solely by bikes in the summer.
The Zooropa Trail is 3.9 miles long. We maybe made it a fifth of that.
The landscape at South Maple Hollow had been carved by gusts into deep rolling drifts and gullies that required substantial amounts of effort to navigate. A single wandering snowshoer’s prints crossed our path occasionally. Otherwise, we encountered no tracks. I guess there isn’t a high demand for snowshoeing during the middle of the week, especially when it is bitterly windy. Oh yes, did I mention, this was the coldest I’ve ever been snowshoeing. Usually, you get cozy and end up removing layers. This time, I put my hood up instead of removing anything and wanted to cry over my hands! They were so frozen for the first 15 minutes or so that I did briefly consider recommending we give up and turn around. I do not often quit or even entertain thoughts of quitting… so that says more than just that I’m wimpy.
Taking pictures can be a workout too.The reward of that work? A picture without tracks attached.
The wise ancients once said, “The candle that burns the brightest burns out in about a week.” Our season of snowshoeing confirms that universal truth. Luckily, the snowboarding season didn’t end quite so abruptly, but I will cover that pastime later. I wouldn’t want to shoe you too far along.
Late last year, a plan for meeting in Moab began to form. It started with my sister thinking about doing a trail race. It continued with me renting a house as her Christmas present, and then somehow it concluded with Jason and me being convinced to run the race as well. And that’s how we ended up in a familiar place with a few surprises. Read on to discover all the details you never knew you always wanted about a trip we took months ago. They are sure to have you firmly on the central portion of your seat.
I finished way behind the rocks.
The Behind the Rocks Ultra, the event that initiated this plot, was the first trail race Jason and I ever participated in. We signed up for the smallest distance offered, 10 miles. It turned out to be 10.67. I was not psychologically ready for 10.67. Sure, 10 miles I could do but 10.67? Come on people! The course went through terrain graced by outlooks on the La Sals and many sandstone formations, including Picture Frame Arch. The encompassing beauty was energizing and distracting but not enough to compensate for the particularly challenging uphill stretch between mile six and 7.5. My knees weren’t super into the arrangement either and thus decided to throb the last couple miles. Still, I managed to hit my goal of finishing in less than 2.5 hours at 2:25:20. Clearly, I aim high. I finished 133 out of 164. If 80% of the class gets a higher score than you, you still pass, right? Jason came through nearly 100 runners ahead of me at 1:43:09 and 34th overall. That boy has ambitions and long legs! We will not speak of how my sister did on her 18-mile course as there is no need to further emphasize my leisurely performance.
Funnel Arch is a buttress arch that spans 45 feet.Sisters make everything sillier, even geology.
Why sit still after running a trail race? Sure, there are the obvious reasons having to do with fatigue and all that but besides those? Jason and I hiked to Funnel Arch a couple years ago. This trail’s small section of Class 5 climbing pushed my comfort levels. So, what did we decide to do after exhausting ourselves on the Behind the Rocks Ultra? I bet you can guess. With four of us, the pushing, pulling, and blocking required to scramble this one-mile trek were easier. And, I must admit, this climb seemed to help loosen up my sore muscles. I didn’t hurt the rest of the day as much as I thought I would.
The Rectory is a 1000-foot-long and 200-foot-wide butte just north of Castleton Tower.From the narrow ridge between Castleton Tower and The Rectory, Ida Gulch, Mary Jane Canyon, Parriott Mesa, and Adobe Mesa can all be viewed.
One dumb turn deserves another? The next day, we hiked to the ridge between Castleton Tower and The Rectory. Castleton Tower, also called Castle Rock, is a 400-foot monolith made of Wingate Sandstone that juts out of a 1000-foot funnel created by the Moenkopi and Chinle Formations. Its trail climbs over 1,300 feet in 1.3 miles. Undoubtedly, the best choice for a post-run activity, but, since Jason and I hadn’t done this trail for almost 10 years, it was relatively easy to ignore the complaints of our tender and tired muscles in the pursuit of breathtaking panoramas. For some of us, it was less easy to ignore the path’s intimidating drop-offs and slightly sketchy sections. My sister didn’t make it all the way to the ridge, but she got close before her shaky legs successfully pleaded their case of self-preservation. Although our movement prompted protests from my muscles, particularly at the beginning and on the downhill, I worked out my pain, and I really didn’t have many aches by the next day. Overall, it was the quickest dissipation of discomfort I’ve experienced after a race of that length. That’s right legs, I do know what is best for you, and I would never choose gorgeous scenery over your wellbeing.
Wearing matching hats is the surest way to signal your coolness to others in passing.
Just as my sister was leaving to go home, Jason and I got a surprise call from another sister saying she was passing through town. She ended up staying the night at our rental. Our niece, who was traveling with her, decided to remain in town even longer and hike with us the next day. We had a hard time selecting which trail to take her on out of all the classics in Moab. As it was supposed to be particularly blustery that day, we picked a more protected path, the 2.4-mile trail to Longbow Arch. We needn’t have worried about the wind as the temperatures hovered around 70 and felt mighty pleasant even with it.
The hike to Longbow Arch is easy, and a 60-foot span is your reward.
We always expect Moab to provide fantastic scenery, activities, and cuisine. However, we don’t usually expect it to provide extra family members. Way to go Moab! I didn’t think it possible for you to exceed our lofty expectations.
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