Doctors know the secrets of the cosmos but the secrets of making a cape? Not so much. If you didn’t attend Rowley Con this year, in addition to missing out on a profusion of sweat-infused gaming, you skipped something the universe may never see again: Doctors giving stitching lessons.
Jason and I modified our plunge TMNT costumes for Rowley Con. Green tabi boots added another reptilian-ninja element.
Milo was one of the few kids that actually tried to stitch on their own.
Our friend Jeremy puts on a nerd-saturated gathering every spring called Rowley Con. This congregation of the play minded encompasses an entire weekend. Board games, videogames, cosplay, and anime are all included. This year I volunteered to tap into my costuming passion (i.e. obsession) to level up the powers of this assemblage.
In one day, ten superheroes were created thanks to our tutelage. That’s a better statistic than radioactive insects or toxic sludge can claim.
Jason and I came to Rowley Con’s second day as the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors, specifically the 50th anniversary versions of them.
Men in tights will always have an unfair advantage in this world. Drew beat Jason in the male costume contest on tightness.
Jason and I helped ten students, mostly children, create their own logoed superhero capes in the first Rowley Con cosplay class ever. We taught this group while costumed ourselves as the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors. Our Padawans loved designing their insignias. Those emblems were comprised of everything from rainbowed unicorns to death ray robots. The rest of the procedure, unfortunately, didn’t hold their interest as much. It took about four hours in total for us to finish up all the capes, mostly because the kids’ usefulness waned drastically. It’s a good thing that sewing machines have moving parts and are susceptible to sonic suggestions.
Jacob commandeered Jason’s newly-made cape and posed for a slew of ridiculous pictures.
I didn’t make these entire costumes but I did sew my waistcoat. Due to its fanciness, that piece took a lot longer to put together than expected.
Here’s my Oscar speech. Thanks Jason for spending many hours cutting out all of the fabric; I couldn’t have done it without you. And thanks Jeremy for hosting another fine meeting of the geeks. Without you, the unshowered masses would neither be all dressed up nor have anywhere to go. Now, instead, they can be mistaken for birds and planes in style.
The next day we headed down to the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park to hike to Druid Arch. Druid’s path followed a wash for almost half of its 11 miles. That wash bed was sandy and boring. Thus, our going required extra energy input and extra monotony seemed the only output. (Dun, dun, duuunnnnn.)
The Needles is partitioned by banded stone that has been whittled into eccentric shapes.
However, this outing wasn’t all sand-induced tedium. A ladder, metal rod, and some boulder scrambling were required to finally reach Druid Arch’s imposing position atop a ribboned plateau. Cool. Plus, the arch itself was magnificently massive and angular and the view from its perch was extraordinary. By the way, I wouldn’t take young children on this hike. The mileage alone would probably do them in but the ledges could literally finish them off.
Cryptobiotic soil is living dirt. It’s vital to the life of the desert and a curious thing to behold.
Our last day in Moab we chose to check out a couple sections of the Klondike Bluffs Area Trails we’d never been on. We planned on pedaling up Jurassic, an easy 3-mile path, and then coming back on Dino-Flow, a moderately-difficult route. Jurassic turned out to be joyfully fast and curvy. It coiled through mounds of mauve and emerald clay left by a tidal area 150 million years ago. Its track occasionally even became a river of crimson dirt swimming through a land of jade pebbles. How bizarre.
Most of the wash we trudged through heading to Druid was relatively dull so this wavy stone was a nice change.
The path to Druid had some tricky sections, this steep face for one.
When we neared the end of Jurassic, where we would be catching the junction to Dino-Flow, sand, like the coarsest of ninjas, launched a sneak scratch assault. The Moab desert is crisscrossed by washes you intersect constantly when biking, dips in the terrain caused by the rapid flow of water. These depressions are almost always dry, unless it has just rained, and they are consistently sandy. As I was traversing one such wash, I hit a patch of sand that was unexpectedly deep. That sand caused my front tire to halt abruptly and skid, which ultimately resulted in my bike summersaulting through the air as I flew over its handlebars.
This was one wall we didn’t have to hike around.
It felt like this over-the-handlebars maneuver happened in slow motion but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I ended up thudding into the ground hard with my bike landing on top of me, still tangled amongst my limbs. My arm was scraped and bleeding and my hip was raw and sore but worse my confidence was unraveled.
Druid Arch is bulky and jagged and spectacular.
It was windy on the plateau adjacent to Druid Arch but the view was wonderful.
Unfortunately, we were almost at the furthest point in our ride when this happened so I had to get back on my bike with shaky hands and unnatural caution and pedal the distance back to our car. At first we kept to our original plan of using Dino-Flow for our return journey but about a mile into that trail we both realized that I currently just didn’t have the brashness necessary to enjoy its bumpy terrain. So we rejoined Jurassic at the next intersection and resumed on it. We biked around 7 or 8 miles that day but our total will forever remain approximate because the crash shattered my odometer.
The Jurassic Trail snakes through Brushy Basin, one of the strangest landscapes we’ve encountered biking.
The desert is full of life if you take the time to notice.
And that is the end of my tale of persistent grit. Incidentally, I developed blobs of bruises on my left side from my hip to my ankle due to my unrehearsed handlebar acrobatics. Plus, I ruined a shirt (Thanks a lot elbow for being so bloody leaky!) and some gear. However, no bike overturn could overturn my love for Moab. Sand, nice try but we’ll happily be back for some more of your grind again soon.
Moab makes me happy. The insignificance one feels amongst its enduring landscapes is both decompressing and peaceful. Ahhh…the dramatic cure for the ego-driven modern pace. This April Jason and I kept up our biannual Moab tradition. We had a delightful trip, save the sand, but I’ll get to that shortly.
The Sovereign Singletrack offered every type of terrain.
Who can resist posing a picture like this when such a boulder exists?
The vistas on Sovereign were expansive.
Our first day in Moab we biked the Sovereign Singletrack. This 10-mile expedition involved a lot of uphill grunting and technical maneuvering. It was tremendous fun until we decided, per our guidebook’s suggestion, to take a jeep road as our route back. This ATV path was practically a sand dune…and thus the villain enters my tale. (Dun, dun, duuunnnnn.) Those blasted particles slowed our movement more than molasses on an arctic expedition and I repeatedly had to dump sand piles out of my shoes that were so massive they made my sneakers two sizes too small.
Sovereign had enough slickrock to satisfy.
The beauty of Moab lies not in its lushness but in its harshness.
After Sovereign, we detoured to the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park. We took a 1.8-mile trail to some viewpoints above Upheaval Dome, a 5-km circular impact crater of mysterious origin. This route was quick but the scenes it passed were pretty impressive.
1 setting sun + tons of blazing stone + 2 energetic rascals = this.
The hike to Upheaval Dome’s viewpoints was easy but it still had a touch of adventure.
Upheaval Dome is a spherical oddity that can’t be fully appreciated unless seen by the air.
And so ended our first day in Moab and the first part of my story. Next week our clash with sand continues.
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