The pains and gains of a 12-mile hike

I’ve been contemplating tackling the 12-mile Winthrop P. Rockefeller Boy Scout Trail for quite some time, and I finally had the opportunity last Saturday. Trey and I go hiking a lot, but we’ve never hiked a 12-mile trail before. I wasn’t sure if Trey would be up to the challenge, but he was surprisingly open to the idea (cabin fever working its magic, perhaps?) and I figured with the quarantine going on, this might be a good time to enjoy the trail in relative solitude. (That’s why no one was on the trail, right? Because of quarantine? Not because most people would consider hiking 12 miles to be on par with, say, listening to “Baby Shark” for 8 hours straight?)

We got up at 6 a.m. and hit the road loaded down with backpacks full of water, yucky food (I’ll get to that in a moment), a first-aid kit, and a portable cell phone charger (I know, I know. Sheesh… Millennials. But we had to be prepared for emergency situations like NEEDING to text our friends along the route and posting our final victory on Facebook. Turns out cell service was almost nil in the wilderness anyway.) We also brought along our brand-new hiking poles (which may have saved our lives… I’ll get to that too).

We parked our car and took the obligatory picture by the trailhead sign. Look how fresh and enthusiastic we were! See with what hope and anticipation our eyes sparkled! Oh, the foolishness and ignorance of untested youthful confidence!

 

We got on the trail at about 8:30 and were happy and chatty. It felt good to be outside in the cool morning air, listening to the gentle breeze and the sound of the rushing creek (I say creek, but it was more like a river—very full and fast due to all the recent rain). We stopped to take several pictures along the way and used our hiking poles to steady ourselves across the many slick rocks as we clambered up and down through steep sections.  

Trey and I have some of our best conversations in the car on long road trips, and our hike was similar—lots of beautiful scenery and good conversation. We tried to keep up a decent pace, but the terrain kept us from going more than a couple miles an hour the whole day. I’m sure our detours for photo opportunities didn’t help.

A few miles into our hike, the trail suddenly ended at the river. We looked around in confusion for a few minutes, peering through the trees to find the next white blaze that would keep us on our path. Then we spotted it—across the river. We could see some rocks that had been strategically placed in a line—presumably for hikers to use as a bridge. But those rocks were firmly underwater with a fast current gushing over them. We knew if we tried to walk on the rocks, we’d be swept off our feet (and not in a romantic way).

We had two choices: turn around a hike the few miles back and call it a day, and live forever with the shame that this trail had gotten the best of us. OR we could pig-headedly forge the river and risk injury to our bodies and water damage to our phones, just for the sake of saying we did it.

“Take your shoes off,” I told Trey. “We don’t want to hike the other 9 miles with wet feet.” (I’m the pig-headed one between the two of us. Trey is probably more sensible in these kinds of situations but loves me a lot, so he follows me into pigheadedness.) So we took off our socks and shoes, rolled our pants up to our thighs, tucked our phones into what we hoped was a waterproof bag inside Trey’s backpack, and stepped into icy cold water. 

This is the part where the hiking poles saved our lives (yes, I’m being a tiny bit dramatic). But the current was quite strong, the water was up to our thighs in the deepest part, and we were struggling to maintain a foothold on the slimy underwater rocks. The poles provided some extra stability as we inched our way forward. I was trying not to think of all the creepy crawlies that could be in the water and also trying to ignore the way the slime was squishing between my toes. We were ecstatic to make it to the other side. We felt like real wilderness adventurers! Survivalists! Sign us up for a weekend with Bear Grylls! After a round of high-fives and “I can’t believe we just did that!” we were ready to continue the journey.

The day got warmer as we went along but topped out at about 70, so it was pretty perfect for a day of hiking. We stopped for lunch somewhere between miles 6 and 7. We found a smooth rock area off the trail and tried to heat MREs for lunch. I say “tried” because these MREs were apparently pretty old, and the heating element didn’t work so well. The meal I had picked, sweet and sour chicken, never progressed even to lukewarm. It also had the taste and consistency of canned dog food. I ate two bites and decided that, 12-mile hike or not, I wasn’t THAT hungry. I did have a granola bar and a few raisins, so I decided those would have to sustain me for the remainder of the hike. So here’s my pro tip: When you’re making yourself go on an all-day hike, pack yourself something a few steps above dog food. Having lousy food when you’re hungry and tired only makes the crankies worse.  (Trey ate all of his spaghetti MRE, which he assured me was better than the sweet and sour slop.)

The next few miles of the trail were really beautiful with lots of rock cliffs, a much smaller creek that the trail zig-zagged across several times, and a natural bridge. After about mile nine we got a lot quieter, though. Our chatter and laughter had turned to huffing and puffing. All of our concentration was on the trail in front of us. Our legs and feet were hurting from all the climbing up and down, and it was taking all of our effort not to stumble on the wet rocks… and in fact, we did both take mild tumbles somewhere between miles 10 and 11. We were just so tired from all the up and down climbing, and the combination of shaky muscles and slick rocks got the better of us. Thankfully neither of us was hurt at all, but we resolved to take the remainder of the trail even slower and with more deliberation.

Both Trey and I could feel blisters beginning to form on our pinky toes (on the right foot for both of us… aren’t we just so in sync?) The last stretch of the trail had us fantasizing out loud about how good it would feel to get to the car and take off our muddy shoes (we had the foresight to pack flip flops for the drive home) and how delicious real food would taste.

When we finally emerged from the trail, we were ecstatic. We had done it! We’d been on the trail for about 7 hours. We were smelly, dirty, wet, sore, and hungry. But we felt like we had really accomplished something worth bragging about.

I know, I know. A 12-mile hike is not that big of a deal. But it was definitely a challenge for us, and the endorphins were pumping and making us feel pretty darn proud. I’m going to give Trey a little bit of time for the details of this trip to begin to grow fuzzy… and then I might suggest to him that we do it again. 😊

Road Trippin'

Seven states... thirteen days... more than 3,600 miles of driving: the Richardson 2019 Wild West road trip was a success! It’s taken me some time to wrap my mind around our whirlwind trip. It truly was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and while no vacation is absolutely perfect, we had lots of pretty perfect moments.  

We started our trip on Friday, September 20, as soon as Trey got home from work. I had stuffed our car to full capacity, dropped off the animals with family members, and purchased enough snacks to keep the whining at bay (and I’m not just talking about the kids here.) The first evening was just a few hours of driving to get us into Oklahoma. We had a minor hiccup when we discovered our coolant reservoir was completely empty, but we refilled it and poured in some amazing magic patching solution to plug the leak, and voila—good as new. (Unfortunately Trey didn’t screw the reservoir lid back on quite right, so we lost it somewhere along I40 and had to fashion a new one out of a plastic bag and a rubber band... but all’s well that ends well, and we made it home with the plastic bag still steadfastly doing its job.)

The next day was a long day of driving across Oklahoma and Texas, but we did briefly stop at the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo to let the kids try their hand at spray-painting cars buried nose-down in a cow field. The kids really got into the whole graffiti thing, spray-painting their names on every available surface, even the ground. I’ll have to let them graffiti their names on public property more often! (Just kidding. I, of course, will encourage them to use tag names rather than their real names.)

We stopped for the night at a cute little hotel on historic Route 66 in Tucumcari, New Mexico, where we ate green chili burgers for dinner and green chili scrambled eggs for breakfast. Sunday we drove to Santa Fe and explored their downtown art district, then spent a couple hours at Meow Wolf. I don’t know how to describe Meow Wolf. I guess you could call it a museum, or an art installation, or a psychedelic experience minus the drugs. It started as a house, then we were in an underwater coral reef, then we were in an ice cave, then we were in a treehouse, then we were in a space station, then we were in a dark room with lasers and OH MY GOODNESS THE LASERS MAKE MUSIC WHEN YOU TOUCH THEM! AND THE DRYER IS ACTUALLY A SLIDE! AND THERE ARE TWINKLY LIGHTS AND SECRET PASSAGEWAYS AND MISSING HAMSTERS TO FIND! I finally feel like I know what it feels like to be a person with ADD... everywhere I looked was something new and bizarre commanding my attention. 

After Meow Wolf we drove south to Albuquerque and had enough time to do a few uphill climbs at Petroglyph National Monument before going in search of our hotel for the night. Funny thing about booking hotels online is you don’t always know exactly what you’re getting. We realized pretty quickly that we weren’t in the best area of Albuquerque, but we’re pretty adventurous and don’t mind too much staying in a less-than-stellar hotel when all we need is a place to sleep. But after a rough check-in experience followed by a near electrocution in our room (the housekeeper was okay; the air conditioner wasn’t), followed by what appeared to be a drug deal in the parking lot, we decided this particular resort wasn’t exactly our cup of tea. For $14 more, we found a nearby hotel with an indoor pool, free breakfast, and a lot less creepiness.

The next day was another long day of driving through New Mexico and Arizona with brief stops to see the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest, where the kids earned their first junior ranger badges of the trip. We ended the day at a nice hotel about an hour’s drive from the Grand Canyon. (Side note... I was constantly confused about what time it was. We crossed from Central Time into Mountain Time, and I was doing okay with remembering we were an hour earlier than back home. But apparently Arizona doesn’t observe daylight savings time, so then we were two hours off... we never knew what time to go to sleep or wake up, with the result being that I woke up at 3:30 every morning Arizona time and sat in the bathtub reading and waiting for everyone else to wake up. By the time they were emerging from bed at 6 or 6:30, I was impatiently chiding them for sleeping the day away.)

Tuesday morning we finally made it to the Grand Canyon. I had hoped we would have a “wow” moment seeing the canyon for the first time, and I wasn’t disappointed! It was breathtaking. We spent the morning wandering along the rim trail, constantly telling each other how amazing and beautiful it was. We had a picnic lunch to enjoy the view and gorgeous fall weather. The wildlife was very friendly. Brielle met an excited chipmunk who tried to sample her hot chocolate, and Perrin actually had a squirrel crawl into his lap to try to take a bite of his ice cream cone (it obviously didn’t know my son very well... Perrin doesn’t share his ice cream with ANYBODY.) Even the elk were wandering around everywhere without a care in the world. 

We spent the afternoon and early evening riding the free shuttle bus so we could see the canyon from different overlooks. We stayed the night at one of the hotels right on the rim. We walked outside in the evening to look at the stars, then we got up early the next morning and stepped right outside our room to watch the sun rise over the canyon.

On Wednesday after spending a few hours enjoying our last glimpses of the Grand Canyon, we got back in the car and drove several hours north into Utah. We stopped briefly at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary and the kids got to feed some bunnies and play with kitties (which maybe wasn’t the best idea because I had to explain about a dozen times that no, we COULD NOT take a kitty on our road trip with us). That evening we arrived at our hotel just outside of Zion National Park, which was Garden-of-Eden-level beautiful.  

Thursday was a day for hiking and exploring Zion. Trey nixed the Angel’s Landing trail, which has a ridge near the top with 1,000 foot drop-offs on either side. Instead we hiked the beautiful Riverwalk trail and the Lower Emerald Pool trail (still tons of beauty; far less risk of death).

Friday we got up early (again... are you sensing a pattern with my vacation style? I might have driven my family a little crazy) and drove about an hour and a half to Bryce Canyon National Park. The elevation here was higher (8,000-9,000 feet above sea level in some places), and we did a very strenuous hike down into the canyon and back up. As difficult as it was, and although we all sounded like a family of wheezy nicotine addicts on the upward portion of the hike, I’m really glad we challenged ourselves and did this amazing hike. We went down several switchbacks, through a slot canyon (narrow path with towering canyon walls on both sides) and hiked among the hoodoos, which Bryce is famous for. The hike back up had amazing views (i.e. good excuses to stop: “No, I’m not dying for lack of oxygen. I just want to see the pretty hoodoos. Again.”)

 

We were pretty beat by dinner time, but we still took time to walk around and explore the adorable town of Bryce before bed.

Saturday was another driving day, this time to the eastern side of Utah. We took the scenic route so that we could stop at Capital Reef National Park for a picnic lunch. We visited the apple orchards and picked several varieties of apples for our lunch (except for Perrin, who spent most of the time in the orchard giving the wild turkeys some exercise). 

Then we hit the road again and drove straight on to Moab. We had a couple hours of daylight remaining (and I couldn’t let that go to waste, could I?) so we did a couple of short hikes at Arches National Park before turning in for the night. 

Sunday we got up and drove to Canyonlands National Park. We did an easy but beautiful hike to Mesa Arch and saw some amazing views. We could see for about 150 miles from some of the overlooks. The only problem is that it was super windy that day, to the point that the sand was stinging our arms and legs. All of our pictures show us clutching our sunglasses and hats and smiling with closed mouths to keep the sand out of our teeth (we learned that the hard way). 

Monday was a full day to explore Arches. We did a hike classified as “difficult” because it was very steep, but the views of Delicate Arch at the end were worth the pain. We motivated Perrin with the promise of snacks at the top (and he got some good laughs along the way out of a rock that he dubbed “toilet rock.” In all fairness, it was shaped like a toilet.)

Tuesday we left Moab and drove into Colorado. We spent the morning going horseback riding on a lovely ranch. Bri rode Spirit, Perrin was on Dog, I rode Oreo, and Trey was on Chunky Monkey (who tried several times to stray off the trail to snack on some grass or leaves. I think Trey felt he had found a kindred spirit. I mean the straying-off-the-trail-to-snack part, not the eating-grass-and-leaves part.)

The rest of that afternoon and evening we spent at Mesa Verde, where the kids received their 8^th and final junior ranger badges of the trip. We bought tickets to tour the Cliff Palace, which has 150 rooms. Any time my kids start complaining about having to go all the way out to the end of our driveway to get the trash can or check the mail, I’m going to remind them of the hand and foot holds we saw that were carved into the rocks for the cliff dwellers to climb in and out of their homes. 

The next two days were long days of driving to get back home. I think the family was secretly grateful for two days of sitting in the car and not having Mom urging them on like some kind of crazy vacation drill sergeant (“Hurry up! Hurry up! We’ve got to go have more fun! NOW!”) I admit we kept up a hectic pace for the two weeks we were gone, but we were thankful that we got to see and do as much as we did. (Right, family? RIGHT??)

But as they say, there’s no place like home, and it’s good to be back safe and sound with plenty of fun memories to look back on (not to mention about 50 gazillion pictures . . . I had planned to print them and put them in a photo album, but I’m pretty sure they don’t make photo albums that big). Because Perrin’s in 4^th grade this year, he got a National Parks 4^th-grader pass that got us in free to all the parks. Now Brielle’s planning her 4^th grade trip, so it looks like we might have to hit the road again in a few years. Maybe by then we'll have recovered from this trip.

In the land of pack rats

I made a big mistake this week. Actually, it all started as a brilliant idea: yesterday while the kids were gone to Vacation Bible School, I decided I would clean out their rooms and throw some junk away. I filled up two large trash bags with odds and ends from their rooms--wads of bubble wrap, broken pencils, cheap McDonald's toys, used-up coloring books, artwork (which, in Perrin's case, involved mostly stick figures with butts), old birthday cards, empty water bottles. This is the definition of trash, correct? I bagged everything up, and because my hands were full with some games and books that belonged elsewhere in the house, I stuck the bags in the hallway outside the kids' bedrooms and told myself I'd come and get them in a few minutes. That was my big mistake.

After putting the other things away, I remembered I needed to move a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer. Then I took a peek at my work email and realized I needed to respond to something. Then I looked outside and saw that my poor gardenias were turning brown and wilting, so I watered them. While I was outside, I saw that the hummingbird feeder needed to be refilled. It was like a terrible grown-up version of "If you give a mouse a cookie." Then it was time to get the kids.

You can probably guess what happened. The kids saw all of their beloved possessions bagged up, ready for the trash can. Pandemonium ensued. They both sobbed as they attempted to rip open the bags and rescue their treasures. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting the stupid bags. Perrin held up a styrofoam cup with a hole in it and asked WHY I would dare to throw away the megaphone he made five years ago. Clearly, I'm a monster.

Fortunately, a lot of the stuff I'd taken from their rooms was hidden under about fifty sheets of bubble wrap (don't ask... Perrin's a hoarder), so even though I had to dig out a few things that they noticed, I managed to actually get some of the junk out to the trash can. Success! ...Or so I thought. For the next 24 hours, the kids kept noticing things that were missing from their rooms, and the tears would start all over again. Perrin can never seem to remember what he did at co-op or Royal Rangers an hour after the fact, but he apparently had a mental map of every piece of trash strewn about his bedroom floor. "Mom, where is the blue cord? It was very important to me! Mom, there was an envelope sitting on top of my dresser! That wasn't trash! Mom, I liked that crumpled-up paper bag!" I drew the line at the paper bag, but I did end up retrieving some things from the big smelly trash can. FIVE TIMES. I can't decide if that means I'm compassionate or just a big wuss.

I know every parent can probably relate. Kids never want to throw anything away, and as cute as their little drawings and crafts are, there comes a point when you have to say enough is enough. Just take it from me and don't forget to get rid of the dang evidence.