"Be vewy, vewy quiet, I'm hunting...

Dinosaur tracks!" 

My apologies to Elmer Fudd. 

After another disappointing outcome at the Wave Powerball, I turned my attention to the Moccasin Mountain Tracksite. The BLM, the Utah State Parks and the Kanab Visitor Center all talked it up.

Heck, I've never seen a dinosaur let alone it's footprints. Why shouldn't I go? I'm retired. I could find the time in my BUSY schedule. 

So I drove away from Kanab and found a sandy ATV road. Happily for me, there were no motorized noisemakers around. I squashed the sand down for 2.5 miles and located an information kiosk at the site. I half glanced at the map and wandered out on the sandstone. 

There I turned bloodhound. I put my nose down low to the gritty stuff, and zig-zagged my way across the surface. Since I've never ever seen a dinosaur track, I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. The closest I was getting to the dinosaurs were a few skittering lizards. A very distant relative to the big guys.

Ahh! But the place was stunningly silent, the clouds looked like parading pregnant sheep, and the temperature was bask in the sun warm. In other words, I wasn't complaining. 

It was after 30 minutes of futile dinosaur track efforts, I tapped my pocket and then remembered. I had a map! Those cool fellas at the BLM took an aerial photo of the site and delineated where those reptilian footprints could be found. I shifted from bloodhound to Sherlock Holmes. 

By lining up trees, a tear shaped pool, and fence posts I found evidence of my elusive prey. I sat by Kayentapus while I ate my PB&J lunch. Mr or Mrs K was a 15-18 foot long, carnivorous Bad Ass. He/She was a distant relative of Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

I thought back on how if I were sitting at this same spot 190 million years ago, I could have been K's kosher lunch. Would the first thing that crossed that pea-sized reptilian brain be, "That tasted just like chicken!" 

The first photo is what my lunch date imprinted on the site. The last photo is a footprint of Jeffus Samburus. A very rare, migratory species. If you chance upon him, don't be afraid. He's pretty docile. 

Cheers from Kanab.

Today is my last chance to score a permit for the Wave for this season. At this point, I would lean into a fast ball  just to take a base. I want that permit! 

Jeff

Kanab, Utah-Home of the Wave and Bob.

"The village which had been started only a year or two was laid out in the characteristic Mormon style, with wide streets and regular lots, fenced by wattling willows between stakes. Irrigation ditches ran down each side of every street. The entire settlement had a thrifty air as is the case with the Mormons. Not a grog-shop or gambling saloon, or dance hall was to be seen; ordinarily the usual disgraceful accompaniments of the frontier town."

Frederick Dellanbaugh from his book "Canyon Voyage" written in 1871

Well, Kanab hasn't changed much since those heady pioneering Mormon years. One doesn't visit Kanab for a steamy Las Vegas nightlife. It's about the Wave. 

I'm here again to test my luck in trying to score a coveted Wave permit. I went 0 for 2 last year. This year I'm hoping for a hit. I would even settle for a bunt single. From last year's sorry disappointments:

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/close-but-no.html

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/0-for-2-on-the.html

Kanab is a clean pleasant town consisting of about 4,500 friendly white folks. After dropping Barley the Van off for an oil change. I wandered around on a dappled sunshine spring day.

The Kanab tourist office drew me in. I'm a map nerd, and I needed alternative hiking information in case of more Wave disappointment. 

I was also hoping for another meet up with Jerry. (A true western character) From last year's post.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/being-polite-and-smile.html

Instead of Jerry, there was Bob. He was resplendently dressed in a turquoise string tie, a western cut shirt, creased blue jeans and electric blue eyes. This picture was topped off with a black Stetson cowboy hat. He sported a welcoming grin as well.

I made small talk and asked about Jerry. 

"Jerry retired from the tourist office. He's beginning to show signs of dementia." 

This saddened me. In the course of one year how much a person's life can change from vibrant to doddering. 

However, I began to notice something about Bob. He had western character written all over him too. I donned my "cub reporter" hat and I began my interview.

"Did you grow up here?

"No, but I spent most of my life in southern Utah. I was born near Bryce National Park in an old homestead. My grandmother was a midwife. We moved to Saint George where I went to high school."

I pressed on smelling a blog scoop. "Then what?" He was warming up to me.

"I joined the Navy and worked sonar on a Destroyer in the Pacific theater. Those were good times. We once harassed a Russian sub for days until a typhoon hit. Then it wasn't much fun."

"A typhoon! What was that like?"

"We saw thirty foot waves. We just headed right into them and watched as the water crashed down on the ship. The seamen standing watch were given a shot of rum before and after their four hours of getting water logged." 

"Did you get seasick?"

"Not that time. I only got sick once and that was when I was hungover. I spent four years on ships. Later on it wasn't the same. The younger sailors were getting stoned on the fantail!" 

He mentioned that with a wry smile. 

After thanking him for his service to our country I continued. 

"What do you do now for fun?"

"Well, I've always been a thrill seeker. I've boated most of the rivers in Utah. Want to see a photo of me in the Virgin River Gorge?" 

He pulled out his I Phone and dialed up a snapshot of a younger Bob. In the photo, there he was (from the waist up), with one oar in a maelstrom of frothy water. No boat!

"Where's your boat?"

"It's there. It was a small boat and made of plastic. The whole thing was about six-feet long. I had to bail a lot. We would run the gorge a few times a day." 

What a guy! Even though his Navy days are done, this land locked westerner still found an outlet for his water needs. 

"I'll be floating the Green River in November too!" All this from a 73 year semi-retiree.

I picked up a few maps, thanked Bob for his time and continued my wandering.

Kanab is also known as "Little Hollywood." Many western/cowboy movies used this red rock country as a backdrop. Why even a Teflon-coated president once strolled these same streets. 

Wish me luck in Round Two of the Wave!

Early morning in Kanab and the coffee is brewing.

Cheers 

Jeff

My Expanding Family...

By now all my faithful readers know about buddy Brad being my brother from another Mother. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-brother-from-another-mother.html

On this recent arduous journey through the depths of the Grand Canyon, Brad brought along his sons, plus one significant other. Between the three of them they had a total of one trip's worth of backpacking experience. In the wide world of hefting loads and humping up and down canyons, they were barely out of the candy wrapper. We are talking newbies.

Those youngsters kicked butt! 

I have now adopted all three to be my extra nephews and one niece from another Mother. 

They have given me hope for the future. They were all well mannered, smart, respectful and didn't whine! 

Max, Cassy and Sam were even considerate. They managed to stifle yawns as a doddering blogger (me) expounded on John Wesley Powell, the Kolb Brothers, Glen Canyon, the Sierra Club and Colorado River law. 

From their ever present smiles, I truly believe they were as overjoyed to be in the Big Ditch as I was. That's a lot of grins.

I'm almost sure these rookies caught the pretty places passion too. I hope so. We need young folks to stand up for wilderness, National Parks and all the good stuff that makes America worth retiring in. If
not the future for people like me isn't bright. Strong Work!

Thank you Brad/Bro/Dude for taking the task of parenting seriously. Your efforts paid off in a human's worth of winning Powerball tickets. Even a curmudgeon bachelor (your's truly) can see that.

As for me, I relearned a lesson. I'm happier in wild, stark places than overbuilt, congested cities. In  March 2017, me and Barley the Van will stay on the road and explore. 

Onto Utah today!

Cheers!

Jeff

PS. Give a shout if you happen to be behind the Zion Curtain this month and May. I'm pretty sure I have enough IPAs for guests.