I am a bit of a planner. No gasps of surprise? That’s why I
am somewhat reluctant to relay the details of our Christmas party last December.
It was not up to Rachel standards thanks to circumstances beyond our control, within
our control, and out of control.
This woody cake was elegant and appetizing.
Prep began for our shindig in a typical fashion. I created
invites. Jason reserved a venue. I sent invites out. Jason ordered catering. I
bought a new photography background for juvenile yet jolly shots. We purchased
gifts of the white and grey elephant variety. All seemed to be proceeding according
to plan.
The boys didn’t grow ugly mustaches to match their ugly attire this year; I really tried though.
Then, a family event we couldn’t miss got moved to the
afternoon of our party… and I decided at the last minute to give all attendees
handwritten personalized notes of appreciation. I strongly believe you should
never leave those in your life in doubt of their meaningful impact; it’s part
of my live-without-regrets philosophy. Though it would seem I’m now regretting
my incorrect assumption about the time it would take to create these notes. Putting
pen to paper isn’t a cursory task- few of us would know anything about that these
days.
Between our unexpected familial obligations and my verbose cards,
we were ten minutes late to our own party and had to have guests help us cart
in food and other supplies. That’s small compensation for a free meal though,
right? We dined on Greek cuisine and French pastries. Merry Mediterranean!
The preposterous often appears in our party pictures.
Per tradition, I took Christmas candids of any attendees
that wanted them. The process took much longer than it should have. I guess guests
were too excited about immortalizing all of their holiday hideousness.
Ridiculousness doesn’t have to stop at sweaters.
The venue we rented this time closed an hour earlier than
our usual location. With our late start and the lengthiness of the photo snapping,
we ran out of time to do the white elephants in a slow, chaotic fashion, the way
they are meant to be experienced. Sorry friends.
To the nonplanners of the world, this tale of woe may seem
like nothing more than daily life. To me, it represents an appalling squandering
of my flair for organizing. Yes, it was our sloppiest and most rushed Christmas
party yet. Spending time with friends and unwinding cheekily amidst the hectic holiday
season were nonetheless refreshing.
Thanksgiving is typically a holiday of overindulgence. You
eat way too much food or way too many pieces of pie. You hang out with your
family way too much. It’s not supposed to be a holiday of discipline, but this
time, for us, it was a mix of excess and exercise.
Cold birds aside, Jason completed his race like a natural.
Jason and I have served as running coaches for our nephew since last August. He took on the ambitious goal of completing his first half marathon for a school class. That race, the Thankful 13, took place Thanksgiving morning. Although he was not always a consistent trainer and was sick the day of the race, he finished strong around 2:47. Jason also entered this half marathon; he pretty much did it cold turkey. (Yes, pun intended.) He finished in 1:50 at an 8:26/mile pace. I did the 5K and probably didn’t even burn the caloric equivalent of one of the many Magleby’s rolls I ate with my holiday meal; it was kind of a one-bun run.
It’s impossible not to smile after the completion of a long race, unless your mouth is otherwise occupied with vomiting.I only ran a 5K, so this victory shot may be more like a cheap shot.
Speaking of feasting, Jason’s family got together the
weekend before Thanksgiving, which made the holiday less stuffed for us both
literally and metaphorically. We were able to go to my family’s without any consumption
conflicts. My family’s gathering was sadly small this year. Siblings and their
families were on vacation, sick, or exiling themselves by choice. Still, the
small group present ate enough food to fill the gap.
The Sabin clan assembled rowdily the week before Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving provides a terrific excuse to bake fabulous things
that are too sinful and/or time-consuming to justify cooking otherwise. This time,
Jason and I made honeyed yogurt pumpkin pie with pistachio-coconut streusel and
a pumpkin pull-apart loaf from scratch and bought a marzipan cake from Gourmandise.
The cake was our nephew’s requested treat for completing his race. Even with the
heaps of cuisine available on Thanksgiving, our overeating didn’t set in until
afterwards. We consumed way too many leftover-turkey pot pies in the week
following the holiday, an easy undertaking when homemade crusts are involved.
We made a honeyed yogurt pumpkin pie with pistachio-coconut streusel. It was as good as its fancy name suggests.
Thanksgiving kept us running around and eating around but in the intentional sort of way. Praise be to dessert and dashing!
Moab is a place unlike any other. Despite the dozens of
times we’ve traveled to its crimson outcroppings, Jason and I are still
enamored by its resilient magnificence. We took a monumental escape to that
enigmatic countryside last fall, as we do every autumn. Hidden art,
architecture, and arches abounded, along with a little vengeance.
Sipapu Bridge is solid yet elegant.
On this trip, we decided to seek out Natural Bridges
National Monument. Natural Bridges is two hours south of Moab, far enough away
that we never realized it was that close. Better now than never.
Horse Collar Ruin is so named because the openings on these two structures look like horse collars.Horse Collar Ruin includes a number of structures camouflaged under the niches of White Canyon.
In Natural Bridges, we decided to hike the 5.6-mile loop
that twists through the Cedar Mesa sandstone cliffs in White Canyon to Sipapu
and Kachina Bridges. What a terrific trek! The canyon was peaceful and vibrant,
filled with gilded sunshine filtered through golden leaves and reflected off bright
canyon walls.
Kachina Bridge trades refinement for strength.
Sipapu Bridge, the second-largest natural bridge in the
United States, was the first span we encountered on our path. Ladders, handrails,
and staircases guided us to this remarkable 268-foot arc. After we passed its worn
bow, we didn’t see another human being until we emerged from the canyon miles
later. That’s my kind of hike!
We made it to Owachomo as the sky was darkening from blue to black.
Between Sipapu and Kachina, we nearly missed our favorite
part of our trek. Horse Collar Ruin, a seven-hundred-year-old group of buildings
constructed by the Ancestral Puebloan, was a highlight of the day. Jason went
on a side trail looking for the ruin in the area we thought it was probably
located and came back shaking his head. He had, in fact, been gazing right at
it, but it blended into the background quite effectively, as its builders intended.
Luckily, I noticed one of its stone structures thanks to both happenstance and
my attention to detail. When seeking Horse Collar Ruin on your own hike, be
aware that there isn’t a sign directing you to it. You will have to pay careful
attention to the canyon ledges to find these fascinating edifices.
It’s not just the terrain that takes your breath away on Hell’s Revenge. The views do that too.
Kachina Bridge, our last stop in route, was a chunky
contrast to Sipapu. Its 44-feet girth is bulky and rough. Maybe it just needs
the seasoning of another 30,000 years in nature’s finishing school.
Thousands of arches hang in the area surrounding Moab, each of them worn exquisitely.Change your perspective and an arch looks completely different.
By the time we completed our loop through Sipapu and
Kachina, the sun had set in a moonless sky, and blackness was rushing in to
fill the void. Yet, we still set out on the short path to Owachomo Bridge,
determined to see the last span in the monument. The bridge’s slender shape was
impressive silhouetted against the deepening heavens. Good thing we lack the
common sense to stop hiking when night falls.
The trail to Jeep Arch begins in an unusual fashion, through a metal tunnel about 200 feet long.
The next day, we scheduled an activity that is typical for
Moab but atypical for us in Moab: jeeping. Robert Mick, son of legendary Dan
Mick, took us on Hell’s Revenge. Vengeance is sweet! Hell’s Revenge starts out
intimidating with the aptly-named Intimidator, a thin fin of sandstone that
doesn’t look fit for a vehicle. The rest of the trail keeps the adrenaline
pumping, the eyes popping, and the giggles erupting. Robert did some crazy
stuff I would never, ever, ever have tried. Not only did we ride along the
Abyss and Black Hole, we also took the optional plunge into Hell’s Gate. Hell’s
Gate is nearly vertical and skewed in every direction. It looks completely
unpassable. One guy watching us said, “I just pooped my pants” as we crested over
the last of the Gate’s twisted inclines.
The route to Jeep Arch is just as marvelous as the final destination.
After jeeping, we hiked to Pinto Arch. Never heard of Pinto
Arch? How about Corona Arch? Yes? Pinto Arch can be reached by taking an
offshoot from the Corona Arch Trail. Even with the many times we’ve been to
Moab and the multiple times we’ve hiked to Corona Arch, we didn’t realize Pinto
was right there. It is visible from Corona’s path if you know where to look. It
reminded me of a squatter and portlier relative of Bowtie Arch. We hit it just
around sunset, which made for some great photography.
Jeep Arch has a boxier opening than most.
Our last day in Moab, we hiked to Jeep Arch. Online reviews said this trail was super hard to follow and getting lost was practically guaranteed. We did not think that was the case at all. Tracking cairns was necessary in many spots as the path wound over stretches of rock, but these sections were well marked. The route was scenic and the arch’s jagged opening curious. If you undertake this hike, the left side of the loop is the better side. The surroundings are prettier and afford a finer perspective of the arch. It took us about three hours to complete this nearly-four-mile jaunt. Driving back from this excursion, we discovered something new. Although we’ve gone down State Route 279 many times, we never realized there are hundreds of petroglyphs along this road. If you want to find yourself similarly surprised, look for a sign on the south side of the byway near the climbing routes. The petroglyphs can be viewed from the road easily, but binoculars are nice.
We’ve passed the abundant petroglyphs along State Road 279 numerous times without realizing they were there.
After over a decade of biannual trips to Moab, that desert wonderland
still holds mysteries and marvels, along with a few of Hell’s hurdles.
Recent Comments