November 30th, 2016: A few people who touched our travels.

Started writing from: Cathedral Valley Campground. Middle of god-damn no where. We haven’t seen a single person all day, which includes the drive up here. Crazy but so, so, so beautiful. I will without a doubt return here. Its already been added to my list of places I need to return to (others include the Vermillion Cliffs and Neon Canyon). You can look up Cathedral Valley online and see the pictures of the monoliths but to be here is something else (it also might be the fact that we have the place completely to ourselves). Imagine a desert landscape. Everywhere you look is tinted with that orange hue found in the clay throughout Utah. But out of the dust rise these GIANT spires all the same shade of dark orange. They’re scattered throughout the landscape as far as you can see. Another one of those truly freakish landscapes.

Currently dealing with: This absolutely insane weather that we have encountered these last two days. I haven’t had any reason to talk about the weather simply because its been perfect and there hasn’t been anything to talk about. I mean, Lexie has been hiking in a sports bra…in the middle of November…in Utah. Since starting my travels, the temperature has stayed between 55 and 75 during the day and lows around 35 before dawn. However, out of no where, a shit ton of cold air just hung over southern Utah pushing daily highs down into the low 40s and lows down into the single digits. The single digit temperatures froze EVERYTHING that was liquid. Our jugs of water, our contact solution, and even our olive oil turned into soap. We then woke up and went back into the same café until it reached 30 degrees around noon. Although today has been slightly warmer due to less wind, tonight should drop into the low 20s. This time though, I made sure that we are prepared. We’ve moved water from our jugs into pots that are ready to be boiled in the morning so we can have something to appease our hangover (I needed something to keep me warm while shooting the night sky) and we’re stocked up on propane for our heater. We made it through last night, we’ll make it again.

Andrew and Vincent

We were hiking The Narrows, which is this very popular, wide slot canyon filled with water to your knees. Lexie and I were enjoying our walk back when we struck up a conversation with Andrew and it came up that we both were headed to The Subway the next day. We made small talk about the hike and then were on our way. At any rate, Andrew and his partner would be hiking earlier than us and I didn’t expect to see them since we weren’t getting onto the trail until at least Noon.

Now this is where it gets interesting. It’s about 3:30pm, and Lexie and I are 2/3rds of the way through. Mind you, sunset is 5:27pm and it’s officially dark at 6:00. At this time, we pass Andrew and his partner who are on the way out. We say hi, chat a little bit, and they make sure we know what we’re getting into on the path ahead. Given where they were, I’m going to assume that they finished between 5:00 and 5:30pm. Meanwhile, Lexie and I get to the Subway at 4:45pm and get back to the parking lot (after hiking the last mile in the dark) at about 7:00pm.

These guys waited for us — complete strangers — in their car the whole time just to make sure we got out okay since we were hiking at night. Here were two guys who had a solid 2 hour drive in front of them (they had to go to St. George), waiting for people they just met to see that they made it through okay. This was the ultimate illustration of the traveler ethos: extraordinary compassion and concern for a fellow hiker. After chatting for a few minutes, we exchanged information and parted ways, likely never to see each other again. But that didn’t matter, because like the following two people, they’ll forever be etched in our memory.

Hans and Karina

My first interaction with these two was the thought, “What is THAT?!" We first saw their outrageous vehicle in our campground back in Zion. We admired the size of it and got a bit jealous, but never got the chance to speak with them. Fast forward one of our random camps in the Grand Staircase, and I see their massive truck bumbling down the dirt road. “Can you camp here?” He asked in his thick German accent. “I don’t really know, but I am.” I responded. And from there, a friendship was born.

I knew that it would be cold in the van and we hadn’t had any real conversations with anyone aside Andrew and Vincent, so I convinced Lexie to come with me and make some friends. Their English wasn’t great, but everyone speaks the same language when they’re drunk so I knocked on the door, held up a bottle of Jack and a bottle of wine, and was received warmly.

Over the next 3 hours, there was never a dull moment. Despite the slight holes in their English, we laughed, drank, and shared stories about our travels. The conversation was alive as if neither of us had anywhere us to be (we didn’t). While hearing about their life, what brought them here, and the troubles they faced along the way, we were able to connect in a few hours only in the way that travelers can. It’s weird; you don’t connect with random people like that while in normal day-to-day life. But I really would like to…I mean, I know everyone would really like to since the world would likely be a better place. At any rate, I’ll move on.

Carl

This guy is a trip — one of those type of people you don’t think exists and only hear stories about. We were in the Grand Staircase, looking to hike the Coyote Gulch. We hiked about 2 miles from the van and then set up camp (this was Lexie’s first time with a pack on) on the rim of this giant bowl (See pictures). Lexie wasn’t too sure about hiking down the next day so we decided to sleep on it. We don’t expect to see anyone as there was only one other car in the parking lot and the registration book said they were headed all the way down. It was also extremely remote so I assumed we had the place to ourselves.

At about 7pm, we hear footsteps, but it doesn’t sound like 2 legs. It gets closer and closer and Lexie freaks out jumping into the corner of the tent. I pop my head out, shine the light, and hear, “Is this the edge right here?” It sounds like an old man. “Yes! You’re really close!” I responded, shining the light at the black abyss. Completely disregarding that we were obviously freaked out, the man goes on to tell us that he just hiked out there, alone, by moonlight and only with a compass. Mind you, this guy looks old (turns out he’s 70).

Over the next hour or so, we discuss our plans for the next day. Carl’s been hiking this region for years now and tells us that we have to head down into the Gulch as this is a famous loop. He lets us know about the 300-foot steep 5.4 slab of rock at the end, but reminds us that if he can do it, then Lexie shouldn’t have a problem. He actually tells her that she looks like a lizard, and that she should just slither on up.

The main reason I want to write about him is because his story is just incredible (as you can watch in the documentary). Here’s a guy that moved to Wyoming in 1965 to become a cowboy, but then became a photographer when he figured out people would pay him thousands of dollars for what he was already doing for free. He then stopped when the money dried up, but still hikes and backpacks by himself to this day. A true life-long commitment to adventure and the outdoors. I was inspired. In the morning, he helped us lower our bags by rope and continue the hike.

So there are three examples of awesome people we’ve come across during out trip. I could see the traveler ethos — whatever that means — in all of them, and I thought I’d put them into blog immortality. We’re rushing to the airport to resume our trip after the Thanksgiving break so I apologize about the typos. Really excited about this next leg. Wahhoooo!