Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 6: Girls' Hike and a Check-up for Farley

I caught an awful cold and laryngitis on the way to Lake Powell with my friend Yvonne a few weeks ago.  I was over it before this trip but apparently gave it to Marc.  Who gave it to Other Mark while they shared the Casita before Jo and I arrived.  Then he also gave it back to me.  Somehow, Jo's been immune to it so far.  But three of the four of us at this campsite sound like hell, stuffed up and coughing. Lucky for Wayne and Cindy, they're staying at a cabin in town, far away from the germs.

Today Marc and Wayne rode Porcupine Rim.  I opted out.  Partly because I was so exhausted yesterday, partly because I was scared. They finished with just one crash between them--Marc's.  One of his knees is a little banged up.

I had called the most highly-rated auto repair place in town yesterday to see if they could take a look at the clunk coming from under Farley on bumps.  They said they could get him in at noon today.  So Jo and I dropped him off while Other Mark shuttled Marc and Wayne to their ride.  Then we hooked up with Cindy for a girls' hike to Hidden Valley.  With directions from Marc and Other Mark, who did the hike last week, we still didn't find the petroglyphs.  Turns out we didn't go far enough.  But it was a good climb to a gorgeous meadow, one not like anything else I've seen in Moab.

Hidden Valley. 

And it turns out all Farley needed was to have his lower shock bolts tightened. Best $50 spent.  It was a little expensive for such a simple fix, but the peace of mind that the wheel isn't going to fall off is worth it.

Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 5: The Best Trail Ever, but Not the Best Day Riding It

Today Other Mark shuttled Wayne, Marc and me to the start of Mag 7, my favorite trail in Moab.  But sometimes, you just aren't feeling it and I didn't ride it very well.  I stopped and got off too many times without even trying the things that looked challenging to me.  Plus I got a flat. We finished the ride and then rode the eight miles back to town, which is mostly downhill but today was also into a headwind the whole way so it was still work even though I was exhausted.

Marc loves to have his
picture taken.  On Mag 7.

Me, at a moment of not being

a chicken-shit.

 
As we went toward the bridge over the Colorado River, here was a guy sitting there on a huge rock with what looked like some long poles or ropes.  I said, "Hey, whatcha got there?"  He said he had a slackline and if we waited a minute, he'd be getting on it.  So we waited and watched with amazement.  It was windy and looked especially challenging.

Dude slack-lining the Colorado River.

We biked on to the Moab Brewery where the tap beer is Utah-awful (Utahful?) but the house-made root beer is good.  As are the 25c wings on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  After eating to our stomachs' content, we loaded our bikes into Other Mark's truck and headed back to camp, where we celebrated with Halloween masks by the fire.  P.S.  No trick-or-treaters ... 

When you don't get trick-or-treaters,
you have to make your own fun.

Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 4: Not Every Day Is Exciting

After a lot of hemming and hawing and about what to do for far too long, we decided to head into town for some free wifi at the visitors' center so Marc could read the sports news.  I happened to see a poster there for Day of the Dead celebration in the afternoon, and then I ran into Other Mark and Jo at the bookstore, so we decided to all go over together.  It was a pretty big celebration, with alters, candles to be lit, an educational area about death rituals in many different countries, and much more.  Unfortunately there wasn't any food available a la carte, and we weren't hungry enough for a $10 platter. I must say, though, that what Other Mark and Jo bought looked incredibly tasty and authentic.

Day of the Dead festival

One of the altars. 

Awesome mariachi band from Salt Lake.

After the festival, Marc and I headed up to try a new-to-us trail on the edge of town, Mill Creek Rim.  We unloaded the bikes, got all ready, headed up the trail, and then couldn't find where it went up to the ridge.  We looked everywhere.  It was supposedly a blue intermediate trail, so you'd think it would be pretty easy to find. Not like we should be climbing straight up a pile of rocks. We gave up and went back downtown where Marc read a little more at the visitors' center and I rode my bike along the length of the river trail.  Got to see some parts of Moab I'd never seen before!

Some parts of Moab

(this is the dirt part of the
river trail) are just like home.

Cool bench near the youth garden on the bike trail.

Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 3: Dead Horse, Hopefully Not Dead Van

Today we waited for our Helena friends Wayne and Cindy Huntley to arrive.  They'd spent the night in Spanish Fork, a few hours away.   While waiting, I carved the Wal-Mart pumpkin I brought from Helena to get ready for trick-or-treat on Monday. When Marc and I hadn't seen them by 11 a.m. or so, we decided to take on the day and head out to ride at Dead Horse Point State Park.

The trails at Dead Horse are beginner/intermediate with little bits of more technical stretches thrown in.  Marc and I rode 11 miles of cool desert trail.  We wrapped up with lunch in Farley and a stop at the visitor's center to learn a little something.  Farley did start making a clunking noise as we drove over a drain grate in the parking lot there, so we might get him checked out in town on Monday. 

The Intrepid Trail System in Dead Horse Point State Park. 
If you're a solid intermediate rider, you'll love this because
there's barely anything you can't get up or down.

After showers at the Moab Aquatic Center, we headed back to camp, where Wayne and Cindy had shown up and we were all planning to have dinner. We ate, drank, and laughed until Marc broke up the party by insisting on listening to the WSU-OSU game on XM. I learned during the game that the Huskies beat Utah today, which is no big deal, but Marc told me that ESPN College Game Day was in Salt Lake City.  That's right; Kirk Herbstreit was in the same state as me and Marc didn't even let me know.  Probably best for Kirk.

My pumpkin, ready for Halloween
in a mere two days.  No one seems to think
there will be kids in the campground on a Monday,
nor do they think they'll come up to a
van to get candy.  We'll see about that.

Sharing headphones to listen to the
WSU game on XM.  At this point,

we were down 21-0. 
Marc was dubious.

Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 2: Arch Hike, Mountain Bike

Across the street from our campground is the trailhead for what was formerly known as Negro Bill Canyon.  Now it's Grandstaff Canyon.  Regardless, Marc and I hiked up to what is the world's sixth largest arch.  It was an easier hike than I expected.  The arch is insane.  As were the folks rappelling from a wall nearby.  It was obviously a family and with a couple of guides.  I talked to the dad, who said he'd never rock-climbed before so, yes, beginners could do it.  They'd hiked in, rappelled one wall a short distance from this one, a little more hiking, then the second rappel, then they were going to hike out the same way Marc and I came in. I gotta check out the cost.  I work a ton in the next six weeks at the ambulance and might splurge if the price seems right.

Any hole in a rock wall with a couple of timber supports
is irresistible to mining man.

Morning Glory Arch, with
someone rappelling
in the background.

Then Marc and I headed to the Brands Trails area outside of town for a short afternoon ride.  We did one of my favorite Moab loops, Lazy-EZ.  It's the easy kind of trail where you won't get hurt on your first day and ruin the rest of your trip.  Then we did a second loop of more slick-rock type riding, O-Something. I describe it as the longest three miles in mountain biking. I was exhausted by the time we were done.  So we headed back to camp, made van quesadillas and salad, and sat around the fire drinking beer with Other Mark and Jo and getting to know our campground neighbors from Texas. Wayne and Cindy arrive tomorrow morning!

The Circle-O Trail. 
Way off in the distance is Arches National Park.

Farley Goes to Moab and the Mighty Palouse, Day 1: Two Girls, Two Bikes, One Van

Three couples--Other Mark Smith and Jo Berg, Wayne and Cindy Huntley, and Marc and I--planned a trip to Moab for a long weekend this weekend.  Then Marc and Other Mark had to go and decide to leave early, on Monday, so Other Mark could spend a little more quality time in the new Casita he and Jo brought home from the factory in Texas last month.  I had to work Tuesday and had book group Wednesday, so Jo and I decided to stick with the original plan and leave Thursday morning.
It was the first time I'd ever driven Farley any real distance without Marc.  I told him I was freaked out about a break-own.  He told me, "Just do what you'd do if I were there.  I'm not mechanical.  Call AAA." Luckily, it didn't come to that.  Farley was awesome.

It was a quick and, thankfully, uneventful, trip.  We were undecided about whether we'd stop and spend the night along the way or just bomb on through the 715 miles to get there in one day.  Somewhere around Salt Lake City, we realized it was only another four or so hours, so we decided bombing through was the way to go.  I was beyond hopped up on caffeine and at a bathroom stop in Wellington, Utah, I realized I was shaking, either from caffeine or not enough food, so we drove a couple blocks back to a fast-food Mexican place I'd seen for the Thursday two tacos and a soda special.

You can't beat all this food for $4.50
Soda included.
Horchata for an extra $1.

We got to Mark and Other Marc's campsite along the Colorado River outside of Moab around 7:30 that night.  We were distracted just before their campsite by a truck with huge light panels shining up onto the red rocks along the road.  We assumed it was some sort of road work or maybe search and rescue but turns out it a tourist company illuminates the rocks for a boat trip along the Colorado.

Farley, down by the
Colorado River.

Home is where the heart is. 
Go Cougs!

Canyon walls across the
street from our campsite,
all lit up for the boat tour.

Farley Heads for the Pacific Coast, Day 2: Bugs, Booze and Bocce

This morning I startled awake at 5:15 a.m.  I'm glad I did.  I missed the most brilliant part of the sunrise while I was getting dressed, but I caught an amazing reflection of it in the clouds and water to the west.

I missed the best part of the sunrise, but not the best part of its reflection

We only had a few hours to drive today, so it was pretty leisurely.  We stopped just across the river in Umatilla, Oregon, at the Pacific Salmon Visitor Information Center.  Not a lot of activity this time of year; September is the biggest run up the fish ladder, but we did see a few from the underwater viewing area.

Watching salmon climb the fish ladder back upstream.

Changing into shorts as the day warmed up, Marc discovered he had a tick!

Our only other stop was the Maryhill Winery, back on the Washington side of the river farther west.  We did a tasting, then got a glass of rose and checked out a free set of bocce balls and ventured to the courts to play. With the rules posted on the wall, it was pretty easy to learn.  It was like we were back in college bowling again.  I won; just let's make sure that fact gets stated.

Wine-tasting at Maryhill Winery.

Marc's doppleganger was standing
beside him at the bar.  I can't believe how
much they looked alike, from their hair
and glasses all the way to their similar sandals.

Reaching back into my college years to
regain my bowling form for bocce in the vineyard.

Tonight we're staying at Haystack Reservoir about 45 minutes north of Bend.  It's a real, $12 pay campsite.

$12 gets you neighbors who are much less sketchy.

Farley Heads for the Pacific Coast, Day 1: Roll On, Columbia, Roll On

Today was the first day of a three-week Farley trip.  On the itinerary:  Bend, Oregon (for some transmission work at German Transaxle, a VW specialist, and maybe, coincidentally, some beer); maybe Portland, to meet our friend Rick Alton, unless he meets us in Bend); the Oregon and California coast; Nevada (by default, because you can't get to Salt Lake from California without going through its endless scrub-brush desert); and finally ending up in Salt Lake City at the end of the month for the Warped Tour all-day punk concert.

Today was also pretty uneventful.  We met our friend Andy Hander in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, for Vietnamese lunch and pre-season Cougar football talk.  Another stop outside Tri-Cities, Washington, at one of those tourist traps that sells jellies, sauces, salsas and candies, as well as a little fresh, local produce.  I got a whole pint of raspberries for just $2.49.  That's insane.

OMG, hot and spicy Vietnamese chow mein.

Then we headed on to Paradise Park on the Washington side of the Columbia across from Umatilla, Oregon.  Another freecampsites.net find and perhaps one of the best.

Room with a view.

There's even a waterfront swing!

Walking the shores of the mighty Columbia.

There was a sign about sturgeon fishing on the access road to the park.  I'm assuming that's what someone was trying to catch with this thing I found on the beach.  It's now hanging from Farley's rear-view mirror.  And I might need a tetanus shot.

I grew up picking raspberries every summer. Sometimes I really miss Washington.

Farley Hits the Desert Southwest, Day 17: I Shied Away From the Brothel Tour

We headed north out of Las Vegas, back into the unending desert.  We stopped for gas and a soda at the Area 51 Alien Center.  I couldn't resist a photo of the brothel but I did resist the free tour.  I wasn't sure what I might see but WAS pretty sure there was nothing I DID want to see.  All the Area 51 stuff cracked me up, too. 

The desert is always beautiful
at the beginning of the drive.

I hope the ladies here are prettier than the building.

Oh, the wonders this place held. 
And right next door to the brothel.

How did they know I wasn't one of them?

Because I look like one of them!

These are not gag alien glasses. 
They're my real sunglasses.

World's largest pistachio in New Mexico,
world's largest firecracker in Nevada.

Marc pulled me away from souvenier shopping for alien trinkets and we continued on toward Death Valley National Park.  I'd planned to do a few hikes, but it was 102 at the visitor's center when we got out of the car.  Sweet baby Jesus.  I'm a lizard, but I need a little acclimation from 80 to 102. So we just made stops at a couple of mining ghost towns and kept moving. 

I actually felt like I was in Burundi.

Wild desert burros.

Part of the Rhylolite mining ghost town.

We stopped for the night at Walker Lake.  Once again, it was dark when we got there, so we were happy to wak up to a gorgeous morning lake view.

 Not a bad view to wake up to!

Farley Hits the Desert Southwest, Day 16: Meeting an Icon

We got up early this morning and headed for Las Vegas, for the NOFX concert at the House of Blues at Mandalay Bay.  While Marc was driving, I found a spot on freecamping.net in a parking lot behind Bally's.  We pulled Farley in amid a bunch of big RVs and headed to the Strip.
 
We wandered south toward Mandalay Bay, doing a little gambling along the way.  We stopped at one of the restaurants on the walkway between Excalibur and Mandalay Bay for a bite and I watched the passing crowd closely for NOFX band members but didn't see any.  We got to Mandalay Bay and Marc bought our tickets and we headed in.  At security, the guy asked me to empty my pockets and put my arms out.  I was so focused on him, I didn't realize that Fat Mike the lead singer of NOFX, walked by the other way.  After we were past security, Marc said, "Fat Mike walked by the other way while you were emptying your pockets.  In fact, you bumped his girlfriend when you put your arms out."  Dammit, Marc; epic fail!  And, of course, I couldn't leave once I was inside.

This is how old men dress for punk shows:
In punk record label shirts and peepers.

The concert was great.  I am not the hugest NOFX fan.  However, I am a huge fan of the band's between-song banter.  Again, we were right in front.  I feel a little guilty taking up valuable big-fan space, but I enjoy being up there, unless I start getting shoved too much. 

Fat Mike, best stand-up comedian in punk rock.

After the show, Marc pointed out their manager, Kent, in the sound area.  Years ago, NOFX did a TV series of their international tour.  Kent was hysterical.  He drank quite a bit and got into a lot of hijinks.  I've watched the episode of him on the train in Russia several times.  Some snowy night, you should borrow my DVDs and binge-watch them, even if you don't like NOFX's music.  Kent is worth it. 

I've looked for him every time I've seen the band.  So, after Marc spotted him, I walked up and tapped him and asked, "Kent, could I take a selfie with you?"  He said absolutely.  I said, "I loved you in the band series.  You were the best part."  He laughed.  I said, "But you're sober now, right?"  He said yes.  I said, "Congratulations."  He said, "Thanks!  But I'm still the best part."  It was pretty awesome.

Kent will always be the best part.

And with that, we walked back to our home-away-from-home behind Bally's for the night.

Farley Heads for the Desert, Day 15: I Heart Flagstaff

This morning we got up and started off toward Flagstaff.  We knew we were going to go to the Voodoo Glow Skulls concert there at night, so we had plenty of time for side trips.  One of which was to the Walnut Canyon National Monument.

We looked around the informational displays about the cliff dwellings and then I got in line to ask one of the rangers about hike options.  I don't think she was a hiker.  She had a deep Southern drawl, which doesn't necessarily mean she doesn't hike, but, she doesn't hike.  She pointed out the Island Trail, which dropped deep into the canyon (she emphasized twice the 200+ stairs) past the dwellings, and the Rim Trail, which went by two areas of ruins.  I replied that those two hikes were only about a mile-and-a-half combined, and how far was the Arizona Trail we'd passed on the entrance road.  She said, "That trail just goes into the trees."  Um, we're OK with that. So we hiked both the trails she recommended, then drove a couple miles of dirt road to reach the Arizona Trail trailhead.  It goes the length of Arizona, some 800+ miles.  We only ran a couple, but it was a great, pretty flat, smooth singletrack. 

View from inside one of the
cliff dwellings.

Cliff dwellings from across
the canyon.

After a little trail run.  That no one takes.

On to Flagstaff, where we tried another one of their breweries.  This time we went to Mother Road.  Another winner.  The bartender was washing glasses right in front of us at the bar so we got to chatting.  Turns out he has an old Toyota van he plans to fix up and drive all 48 continental states.  We told him about freecamping.net and he was super-psyched to check it out.  In fact, as we walked out, he was telling one of the locals sitting there about it.

Demographics here look pretty much like Blackfoot.

Beautiful pour, inspiring motto.

We quizzed him a little about living in Flagstaff.  He said it's a great place if you have a job lined up first, or you're retired.  He had a bachelor's and master's in some kind of engineering and is working in a tap room.

From there, we wandered back to Proper Meats and Provisions so Marc could get some of their homemade chorizo.  And then we had to stop at Historic Brewing.  Just like in Montana, they let you bring in food, so we grabbed some Vietnamese food from down the block and came back to enjoy a couple of beers.  I had an orange Dreamsicle beer that was insane as far as fruity beers go.  I ended up buying a baby growler to go.

Vietnamese food and
Orangesicle beer.  A delightful combo.

And then we continued on to the Green Room for the Voodoo Glow Skulls concert. They had a great set-up where you could get near the stage with a drink, but a no-alcohol area right up front.  I stood toward the left side of the stage, out of the fray of the pit (which, I should note, if I did get bumped, the friendly Flagstaffers apologized) and Marc was in the center.  He did make a loop or two in the pit and his glasses got knocked off and broken right at the nosepiece.  I thought he should've taped them up, engineer-style, and continued wearing them the rest of the trip.  Luckily, though, he had just stocked up on contacts.

Cock Sparrer fan dad taking his
daughter to a punk show.

I touched the Voodoo Glow Skulls.  Indirectly.

We left the concert and camped for the night in the trees somewhere outside of town that we found on freecamping.net