things are good when only a car wash can scare you
It was my birthday, and I was in california!
Well, atleast I made it to the state.
{Marc made reservations at some West Hollywood martini lounge, with so-so martinis, considering thier claim to have invented the apple tini, a crap cheese plate, horrid wine, but fantastic fish.}
From Atlanta, GA on Tuesday we (mostly, I) drove through the night and made it to the painted desert & petrified forest by afternoon on Wednesday & walked around for a while. Then we drove to right outside the Grand Canyon southern rim and cashed out.
In the morning we were feeling a little cramped from being in a car for longer than the germans engineers designed the interior of our jetta for, and decided to go for a little walk.
I'm not sure what went wrong exactly, but a kindly park ranger with a curly mustache apparently mistook us for genuine hikers and sent us down the steepest trail down the southern rim, GrandView.
Now mind you, I've hiked by myself in scotland and Michael is a ninja.... but come on! We are wearing diesels for christ sake and mr ninja is carring a man purse. Do we look like experienced desert hikers ready to disend and then assend 2000 vertical feet of quote "very steep" terriegn?
No, I didn't think so.
We did go get some food before heading towards the rim's edge, but in retrospect, some fruit and yogurt really wasn't what they had in mind when they suggest eating twice what you normally would.
When we got the the trail head we milled about for a few. The ninja stretched, I mocked, it was all calming and awe inspiring to see the ravens soaring above.... then we read the trail sign. And this was the first time we had the chance to comprehend what idiots we were (but certainly not the last). Next to the welcome to the trail sign was a big poster that's headline read: 'Could you run a Marathon?'
The simple answer is no. Sure with the right training and dedication... but I'm missing the point here.
The poster then went on to introduce a young woman, born 1979, who had run the boston marathon the year before and had done quite well. Who had then decided to travel west and hike this very trail that ninja and I stood before. She took with her an apple and 1.2 litters of H2O. ... hmm. We have two apples, a pear, and 1.2 litters of water in Michael's man purse. Good, we are smarter than we thought.
But no. This marathon runner, with water and apple, DIED.
Didn't make it.
Body carried out.
Fuck.
Ninja goes back to the car for more water and peanuts.
Remember: The kindly ranger recomended this trail to us. This marathon runner killing trail.
When I get the chance, photos will go here:
I will be a photo someday
In truth, it was a beautiful trail. But I know I missed most of it because all I can really remember is looking at my feet and the ground to make sure they were connecting properly.
Michael, our resident ninja, slipped at least 3 times before the trail really even got steep and would stop from time to time to check the death factor of the plumenting slopes. Mostly certain deaths, with a good smattering of 200ft "oh, fuck. ouch, ouch, ouch" followed by certain death.
The only people we saw on the trail were a middle aged couple from england with proper hydration packs and poles. Who managed to refer to themselves and us as nutters for choosing this trail.
They weren't wrong.
We ended up not completeing the trail proper for fear of 'Marathon Girl Fate' and darkness... but we did atleast 1500+ vertical feet down and up again and hiked/fell/climbed for 4 hrs into the gapping hole.
It was wonderous and a bit unnerving to consider that folks picked this place as a good path for a trail into or out of the canyon... They were the nutters. They are the ones who looked at rock slides and inconceivably towering sheer walls and said "Here. This is where we will build the {and I use this term loosely} stairs towards the rim edge."
Well, atleast I made it to the state.
{Marc made reservations at some West Hollywood martini lounge, with so-so martinis, considering thier claim to have invented the apple tini, a crap cheese plate, horrid wine, but fantastic fish.}
From Atlanta, GA on Tuesday we (mostly, I) drove through the night and made it to the painted desert & petrified forest by afternoon on Wednesday & walked around for a while. Then we drove to right outside the Grand Canyon southern rim and cashed out.
In the morning we were feeling a little cramped from being in a car for longer than the germans engineers designed the interior of our jetta for, and decided to go for a little walk.
I'm not sure what went wrong exactly, but a kindly park ranger with a curly mustache apparently mistook us for genuine hikers and sent us down the steepest trail down the southern rim, GrandView.
Now mind you, I've hiked by myself in scotland and Michael is a ninja.... but come on! We are wearing diesels for christ sake and mr ninja is carring a man purse. Do we look like experienced desert hikers ready to disend and then assend 2000 vertical feet of quote "very steep" terriegn?
No, I didn't think so.
We did go get some food before heading towards the rim's edge, but in retrospect, some fruit and yogurt really wasn't what they had in mind when they suggest eating twice what you normally would.
When we got the the trail head we milled about for a few. The ninja stretched, I mocked, it was all calming and awe inspiring to see the ravens soaring above.... then we read the trail sign. And this was the first time we had the chance to comprehend what idiots we were (but certainly not the last). Next to the welcome to the trail sign was a big poster that's headline read: 'Could you run a Marathon?'
The simple answer is no. Sure with the right training and dedication... but I'm missing the point here.
The poster then went on to introduce a young woman, born 1979, who had run the boston marathon the year before and had done quite well. Who had then decided to travel west and hike this very trail that ninja and I stood before. She took with her an apple and 1.2 litters of H2O. ... hmm. We have two apples, a pear, and 1.2 litters of water in Michael's man purse. Good, we are smarter than we thought.
But no. This marathon runner, with water and apple, DIED.
Didn't make it.
Body carried out.
Fuck.
Ninja goes back to the car for more water and peanuts.
Remember: The kindly ranger recomended this trail to us. This marathon runner killing trail.
When I get the chance, photos will go here:
I will be a photo someday
In truth, it was a beautiful trail. But I know I missed most of it because all I can really remember is looking at my feet and the ground to make sure they were connecting properly.
Michael, our resident ninja, slipped at least 3 times before the trail really even got steep and would stop from time to time to check the death factor of the plumenting slopes. Mostly certain deaths, with a good smattering of 200ft "oh, fuck. ouch, ouch, ouch" followed by certain death.
The only people we saw on the trail were a middle aged couple from england with proper hydration packs and poles. Who managed to refer to themselves and us as nutters for choosing this trail.
They weren't wrong.
We ended up not completeing the trail proper for fear of 'Marathon Girl Fate' and darkness... but we did atleast 1500+ vertical feet down and up again and hiked/fell/climbed for 4 hrs into the gapping hole.
It was wonderous and a bit unnerving to consider that folks picked this place as a good path for a trail into or out of the canyon... They were the nutters. They are the ones who looked at rock slides and inconceivably towering sheer walls and said "Here. This is where we will build the {and I use this term loosely} stairs towards the rim edge."
posted by dutchashell at 1/07/2006 12:23:00 PM
2 Comments:
SF=Party in Loin.
Yes.
--M
party in the loin? hell yah!
we are going to see the editors tonight... and hopefully won't be too hung over to sign our lease in the morning!
yup, yup... looks like we may no longer be homeless. yeah, us.
i speak in small burst to contain it
but team loin is way over do for an introduction to our lameness. so name it and we will come.
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