Moab - Hiking, Flying, and Jumping

Back on the slick rock

June 2 – I made my first hike of the trip this morning. The Moab area has such a wealth of choices, from Canyonlands to Arches and everywhere in between. I decided I’d hike a trail I read about in Backpacker called the Moab Rim Trail. It promised a steep ascent with a wonderful payoff, and it was right.

I got a little later start than I wanted to – I had to stop and ask a cop where the trail head was. I had a map, but it was a topographical map and it didn’t show the name of the road. I knew where it ran, but I didn’t know how to access it. Once I had that figured out, it was about 9 a.m. when I arrived, which is late to begin a hike in the dry, hot Southwest.

As I was putting on my pack and setting my GPS, a couple came down from the hike. They were locals, and they said this was one of their choices for a morning walk with the dog. After I suffered a quick bout of envy, we talked a little about the hike, about living in Moab, and hiking with dogs.  As they drove off, I began the hike.

The Colorado, straining at its banks

Every year, when I first hike on slickrock, I’m surprised how unslick it actually is. This was the virgin excursion for my new boots, so I was eager to see how they performed, which they did superbly. Not only do they grip the rock well, but also they are very comfortable – more so than any boot I’ve tried. And again, they look outdoorsily hip.

Climbing the initial ascent was rigorous, but most of the route was shaded and I felt fresh and alive. I could look out over the Colorado River as I climbed, and it felt so good to be back on a challenging, beautiful trail here in red rock country. When I was near the top, I ran into a hiker coming down. He was another local, and we visited for quite a while as he gave me advice on hikes to take and places to see. I’ve filed it all away, and I hope to use some of his suggestions. But the conversation delayed me another 30 minutes, and I knew the day was getting hotter by the minute. We said our goodbyes, and I soon climbed out of the shade and into the full force of the southern Utah sun. In not too long, though, I came to the reason for the trail’s name – a grand view of Moab and Arches National Park.

(My camera did this automatically - I took a number of quick pictures, and it stitched them together. WTH? I love this Galaxy s5!)

I soaked in the view, climbing out as far as I could on the jutting rocks. I decided to hike about another mile and a half before heading back to the car, making the full hike about five miles. The trail took me away from the rim and back toward the rising and falling landscape. The trail led up some slick rock and down through some washes, and it offered some spectacular views of Canyonlands. The beauty of this area defies words. I can’t begin to communicate the feeling of connection and attachment I have to these lands. They’re brutal and unforgiving, harsh and rough, but the contours and colors of the landscape – the reds and oranges, juxstaposed with creams and grays – is breathtaking. Every step leads to a different view, a new combination. And this time of year the land is not overly stingy with her greenery, and the wild flowers are sprinkled more liberally than later in the year.

I turned around right at two and a half miles, and retraced my steps. The day was getting hotter, and I was getting tired. I have a tendency, when I get fatigued hiking, to push harder rather than to rest. This is not really a good plan, and I’m trying to break that habit. I kept thinking I’d stop for an energy bar and some rest when I hit some shade, but that didn’t happen until I was more than four miles into the hike. When I finally did find some shade I could sit in – what had been shaded for the climb up was now in full sun – I remembered how much it helps to take those few minutes to rest. I had renewed energy to finish the hike, and was back at the car before long.

Appreciating my new boots

I returned to town, showered, and drove around the area a little. As I was heading back to my campsite, I passed a billboard for Skydive Moab. Before thinking about it too much, I called the number. It turned out they had a special of $25 off a jump and had an opening the next morning at 7 a.m. The voice on the phone gave me a few hours to decide, and I texted the kids and asked their opinion.

Me: I’m thinking about skydiving tomorrow. What do you think?

Emilie: Do it!

Anna: Jealous!

Nick: Dope!

I took this as encouragement, called back, and made the reservation. I was going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane in the morning.

Ready to go!

June 3 – I rose early, broke camp, and allowed myself time to grab a cup of coffee before heading to the airport for my appointment to jump. I had initially been worried about hurting my ankle or feet before the big hike at the end of the month, but realized I could turn my ankle on one of the hikes I’m doing just as easily – maybe even more easily – than hurting myself skydiving.

 

            I met Dani, the woman who was jumping at the same time, in the parking lot, and we walked in together. She was from Arkansas, and her husband was with her. He was not jumping. We approached the hangar, and it had an airplane parked in the middle of it, some office equipment on one side of the plane and a couple dirty sofas with a television on the other side.

            We began our training by filling out a four-page form that basically said we could die and we wouldn’t sue anyone. Then we watched a video that said we could die and we couldn’t sue anyone. The instructor, Kevin, ended up being my jumping partner. He was probably in his late 20s or early 30s, was tattooed liberally, and was hipsterish in an outdoorsy adventure kind of way. He was the older, more mature appearing of the two instructors.

            We quickly donned our harnesses with help from Kevin, after being warned by the video that we “may be touched in ways that at other times might be considered inappropriate, but was necessary to secure our harnesses,” and were instructed where to stand, how to exit the plane, and what to do when we began our fall: “Look back as we do the free fall flip to see the plane flying away – it’s awesome!”

Sticking the landing

            It all happened so fast. Even though we flew for about 20 minutes over Canyonlands, I felt I had no time to get nervous. I’m not one to worry a lot about something like that until I’m actually beginning it, and it happened so fast, the first time I felt nervous was when they opened the door and a blast of cold air hit me. Dani jumped first, and I didn’t even have time to watch her as we moved quickly into position and were out the door. Hovering a few seconds with my feet on a little ledge below the wings, my guide pushed us out into the sky.

            The free fall was amazing. I wore goggles to protect my eyes as the wind hit us at 120 miles per hour. But it was spectacular. I never felt afraid, I never felt anxious. I just wish it could have lasted longer. Paradoxically, we seemed suspended in the air for a long time before Kevin pulled the chute and we were jerked back into a gentle float. He let me guide the chute a few times, turning us one way then the other, before he took control back. Soon the landing spot was in front of us, and the ground was approaching. He called for me to lift my feet, and then as soon as his hit the ground he said to put mine down too, and we jog-walked into the landing.

Time is completely non-existent when you jump. It seems to last forever and it seems to happen in a split second.  The whole experience was phenomenal, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Before I jumped, Deb Heaton reminded me to keep my eyes open, and to be honest, I don’t remember if I did or not. I do remember getting a look at the bottom of the plane when my instructor reminded me, but when we actually launched off the platform, I don’t remember. 

Valley of the Gods

            These guys, all young and a bit rumpled, were professional and very good at what they did. I could have let appearances put me off, but that would have only detracted from the experience. As it was, I loved every bit of it and was so glad I took the leap. (Nice pun, no?)

            The jump took me out of the mood for the short hike I had planned for the morning, so instead I stopped at the Moab Diner and tried an omelet smothered with their famous green chile. I now understand why it’s famous – the omelet was spectacular and a fitting close to my time in Moab this year.

Monument Valley

            I drove most of the rest of the day, taking the drive through The Valley of the Gods and Monument Valley, enjoying these monoliths rising from the desert floor. After some consideration of camping near Monument Valley, I decided to drive on to the Glen Canyon Recreation Area to camp and find some hikes the next day. I chose to camp at the main campground on Lake Powell, giving up seclusion for good showers, real restrooms with running water, cell service and Wi-Fi, and a breeze off the lake. I could have swum or dined at the yacht club, but I’ll only take this pampering stuff so far.

View from my campsite at Wahweap Bay on Lake Powell

            So I’m sitting here, with my feet warmed by the campfire and a soft breeze blowing across the lake and the slick rock, enjoying the evening. This day I’ve checked another main item off my bucket list, and for that – and for so many other things – I’m grateful.