It was slow lighting up this morning, too cloudy. The cold kept us in our sleeping bags for a while too. To the south we soon saw obvious signs of precipitation against the side of 50-mile Mountain, and it was moving toward us. Time to get a move on.
The road was straight and narrow, but dipped in and out of various washes, offering occasional respite from the chilly wind. One problem with the road was that most of it was just sand, making walking less than easy. And the vegetation was a sage, cactus, rabbit brush mix. The problem was that I don’t carry toilet paper, and the selection of natural substitutes in the vicinity was uniquely sparse. Not that my bowels cared in the least. In a panic I scared up a few passable rocks and rushed off. Luckily I didn’t need much this time around.
Flurries had been blowing all morning, but at around noon it began to snow in earnest. The view quickly shrunk, and the snow actually began to accumulate—maybe an inch. At this point we began to see vehicles. Everybody would stop to see if we were all right, but they were all going in the other direction. They were incredulous when they realized we were just out there walking, and not in some sort of fix.
“Do you folk have vehicle trouble?”
“No we’re fine, we’re just looking for a ride into town.”
“Well, where’s your car?”
“Uum. Mine is in California and hers is in Wisconsin.”
“So you’re just walking? How far you say?”
“Yup.”
“Huh.”
The one car we did see going in our direction didn’t stop. It figures. Eventually, we saw Lindy’s silver Buick coming up the road. He had, unfortunately, decided to get off the trail, so Ron had come up from Albuquerque with his car to get him. They were coming down the road to pick us up, bringing bananas, cookies and chocolate. It was kind of a culture shock after seven days out.
We’re in Escalante, a small town in the middle of nowhere Utah with everything a hiker could possibly want. We might take a zero day; we’ll see how fast we move tomorrow.
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