On Rain and Romance

Recent foot surgery has forced me to become better acquainted with my couch. By the time Sunday evening rolled around I had overdosed on Jane Austen movies, gotten sick from my prescription cocktail, and was tossing menacing glances at my cherry red cast. A sullen mood had found me and I didn't feel up to shaking it. I opened the sliding door to let in the heavy smell of rain, turned on the "Les Miserables" soundtrack, and sat down to an aggravatingly cheery Thomas Kinkade puzzle. The sullen mood evolved into a series of deep and melancholy musings that at times included a bit of the fanciful.

Jean Valjean had just settled his identity crisis, and I had just placed the last piece in a bright window when out of the rain came my roommate. She had just returned from a long walk with a young man of interest. Dripping she sat down beside me and slowly divulged her heart's complications as I finished a snow covered gable. A star crossed Eponine wandered the wet streets of Paris alone.

An hour later the puzzle lay forgotten, and both of our hearts were answer less and somber. Outside the rain pattered on, and in it all of the young Frenchmen lay dying.

There is something about literary romances and the smell of rain that makes love seem a lost cause.

River of No Return

Liz, me, some friends, and some new friends rafted the Middle Fork of the Salmon river for eight glorious days. Thank you Liz, for everything.

There are a ton and a half of pictures here, but if you are thinking "come on Katie, cut back a little!," just remember that there are many more where these came from.
Little Pepper (Liz's car) did it again! We push her so much and yet she has yet to reach a breaking point. Who knew you could put so much heavy stuff in a little car? She turned 200,000 on this trip.

The launch ramp was like no other.
Bryon decided to run Dagger Falls right before we launched. Can you see him?
Bryon rowed so we painted our nails. The next rapid did a number on the paint job, but we still were stylin'.
Captain Liz took over for the big ones.
Scouting Lake Creek rapid. Pansy name, mean rapid.

Tommy and Barb in Lake Creek rapid.
Unfortunately there are no photos of us doing battle with Lake Creek rapid for our boat. This oar blade has a steel shank in it and it is toast. We went in the hole which held us for about 5 minutes (no joke, our friends on shore say it was at least that long). Bryon fell out after a long ride, I followed shortly and was maytaged (did a spin cycle in the hole), and Liz eventually abandoned ship when highsiding was getting us nowhere. We ended us using tree trunks and the bowline to pull the boat from the hole.
This fishing spot was right next to some hot springs. I soaked, fished, and repeated. I caught my very first fish on a fly here!!!!!!!! The fishing on the entire trip was fantastic.
Liz rockin' it on the roll.

There are several mule trains that carry supplies to and from the river ranches. This guy became my close friend after several gifts of dandelion leaves.
More hot springs! We found the perfect spot between the hot water and cool river.
Scouting Tappan Falls.
Tommy and Barb in Tappan Falls.
Cecil and Ann in Tappan Falls. There are few true whitewater canoeists out there; it was a joy to watch these two in action.

Evenings on the river.
Rainbow.
My fishing get-up. I think the sarong was good luck.
Philosophizing and chatting it up with Liz on the tarp at night was one of the best parts of the entire trip.
A rousing game of Pass the Pigs. It is funner than you think.

Entering the Impassable Canyon.


Camp 4.
The waterfalls that ate my camera. :(

Blue John Canyon and a Happy Fourth

The evening after my mango adventure (see previous post) I headed south with two friends (Gavin and Katie) to do a sort of loop through Blue John canyon the next day. We followed what we hopped were good directions deep into BLM land and slept under the stars. When the sun came up the next morning we realized that this cattle camp we were at actually had "nice" accommodations available. At least the foxes liked them.

The canyon was great. We had our doubts for a while as there was lots of slogging through sandy washes in 106F weather, but the amazing slots made it all worth it. We rappelled a little and wiggled, jammed, and smeared our way up.

I am strong...
...Gavin is strong...
...but Katie is strongest! (it is hard to see, but Gavin is on top)

Chacos are great! We wadded nasty water, hiked, climbed, and not a single blister!
There were only a few pools, the deepest being waist high, and even though they smelt gross the cool water felt great.

Slogging through sand.
If you can't go over it... go under it. This tunnel went under this giant chalk stone/boulder.

And of course, critters. The lizards had neat green bellies and their top sides matched the rock quite nicely.
A kangaroo rat! Maybe he was too hot to care, but he let us get really close for photos.
I will be gone for almost two weeks rafting the Middle Fork of the Salmon in Idaho, so be ready for more in a little while!

Dangerous Mango

I love fruit, all types. So when I saw that Smith's had ripe mangoes on sale I excitedly bought one and delightedly ate the whole juicy thing in one setting late Wednesday night. It was the first time I had ever had more than a couple slices in one setting (that is the consequence of having siblings) and I savored every bite.

The mango began to exact its revenge about 3am Thursday morning when I awoke with swollen hands, face, and tongue, nauseous, and with nasty bad abdominal pain. My dear roomies awoke to my moaning and called my home teachers who gave me a blessing and carried me to the car. Melinda committed what was probably her first ever traffic violation when she ran a red light on the way to the ER. Three hours, an IV of pain meds, a couple blood tests, and a cat scan later I was released with a confused shrug from the doctor. It was only later that I thought back to that mango. Why couldn't I be allergic to something like Brussels sprouts instead?

After breakfast at Denny's and a long nap I was feeling almost back to normal so I went ahead with the fourth of July canyoneering plans I had. Those pictures are coming...

Screamer

A couple evenings a week have found me up Rock Canyon lately working on my sport climbing, which includes my ability to lead climb. This Tuesday I was just about to my next bolt when I got "sewing machine legs," and my hands felt slick no matter how much chalk I dusted on them. I shifted my weight to move my right foot and a scream reverberated off the canyon walls and filled the air that I found myself falling through. I came to a stop, swallowed my heart back into my chest, and thanked Gavin for a job well done on the other side of the rope. It was only then that I realized that the scream belonged to me. And yes, I scream like a girl.

I took inventory of my limbs, found only minor scratches and bumps, and latched back on to the rock. I had gotten my first lead fall out of the way; it had to happen sometime. I fell twice more on the climb, but didn't scream... as much.

Note: A big lead fall in rock climbing is often referred to as a "screamer." Mine wasn't quite far enough to qualify, but this one does, and he didn't even scream!

Last weekend I had the delight of traveling with my aunt and cousins up to visit my grandparents in Idaho Falls. We hiked lava beds, played cards, planted flowers, and visited family (I also got to spend some quality time on a trampoline). Family really, really, really, is wonderful.