Moody
Needs to get out more
"Goin' where the wind don't blow so strange..."
A Father… and a Son.
After the plans to hit Escalante were nixed due to the area receiving significant amounts of snow, and everyone else bagging out, it was just my pops and I. He pitched the idea of going to Valley of Fire SP in Nevada, rather than Escalante, as "it will be warmer". My pops, John, and I left it open, figuring we would hit Valley of Fire, and then see where the wind would blow us. I had in mind heading further south to Death Valley, but I was open to anything…
My Dad and I hit the road later than we expected, due to a significant storm hitting the Salt Lake valley on Friday the 26th. We stopped off to pick up a photo for a friend that needed it delivered in St. George. After a quick topping off of fuel, we went with just one stop to St. George, delivering a very nice photo of Zion to the Greens.
John, in all of his ramblings, had never been to Valley of Fire, and I hadn’t either. While we arrived at night, we knew the day would offer some goodness, and after throwing down our fourteen bucks for the campsite (which included the entrance fee –and- hot showers, by the way) we hit the sack.
John was skeptical of the Columbus. He even brought an empty bottle of saline solution from the University Hospital (where he is employed at) to use as a midnight latrine. He never said it, but I could tell he was happy to not spend the time pounding stakes in the ground, or sliding cold aluminum poles through sleeves and clipping them to the tent.
We awoke to this:
A Father… and a Son.
After the plans to hit Escalante were nixed due to the area receiving significant amounts of snow, and everyone else bagging out, it was just my pops and I. He pitched the idea of going to Valley of Fire SP in Nevada, rather than Escalante, as "it will be warmer". My pops, John, and I left it open, figuring we would hit Valley of Fire, and then see where the wind would blow us. I had in mind heading further south to Death Valley, but I was open to anything…
My Dad and I hit the road later than we expected, due to a significant storm hitting the Salt Lake valley on Friday the 26th. We stopped off to pick up a photo for a friend that needed it delivered in St. George. After a quick topping off of fuel, we went with just one stop to St. George, delivering a very nice photo of Zion to the Greens.
John, in all of his ramblings, had never been to Valley of Fire, and I hadn’t either. While we arrived at night, we knew the day would offer some goodness, and after throwing down our fourteen bucks for the campsite (which included the entrance fee –and- hot showers, by the way) we hit the sack.
John was skeptical of the Columbus. He even brought an empty bottle of saline solution from the University Hospital (where he is employed at) to use as a midnight latrine. He never said it, but I could tell he was happy to not spend the time pounding stakes in the ground, or sliding cold aluminum poles through sleeves and clipping them to the tent.
We awoke to this:
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