On Friday the 13th..

I brought a rabbit's foot, a four leaf clover and a wish bone on yesterday's  ramble. After all I was going into the Superstition Mountains Wilderness. One can't be too careful in an area where gold mines go missing, let alone a little dude like me. 

The "Sups" are legendary for mother lodes that somehow become forgotten. Talk about senior moments! The Lost Dutchman Mine is the most famous tale of "Holy Crap! Where did I put that mine?" 

Down through the decades scores of adventurers have gone out in search of that hole of wealth. Many died in gold vain. (A little miner's humor there). One was found with two bullet holes in his bleached skull. That's a high price to pay for a potential piece of jewelry. 

With all of this in mind, I tossed in a flashlight, an extra layer of warm clothes, matches and the above mentioned good luck charms into my daypack. Of course, I forgot my maps! 

Somehow, I made it out fine and in one piece. I didn't rediscover any mine. I did find a lot of peace and solitude in those 12.5 miles of trekking. These days, that's a good thing.

In lieu of yesterday's atrocities in Paris, wilderness areas are looking better to me each day. 

Be safe out there,

The world is becoming scarier and I don't mean the wild places.

Jeff

PS: last photo graphically shows why Arizona hiking would not be a good idea for someone who is a hemophiliac. 

My idea of...

Winter.

On top of Mighty Camelback Mountain in Scottsdale, Arizona  (,2704 feet of oxygen deprived granite)  there was a slight wind chill in the 75 degree sunshine. Somehow I survived and endured the harsh elements. After all, I didn't want to embarrass myself before those 100-plus bestest buddies who hiked with me to the summit. Ahhh wilderness! 

Speaking of atrophy: with T-Minus one week until I turn 61, I realized taking a three day break from physical mobility is not a good idea. The way I was breathing on that minuscule chunk of crumbly rock, one would think I was summiting Everest. 

Note to self: Always keep moving until Happy Hour. 

Cheers from 33.5 degrees North.

Enough to make a difference in being SAD. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/11/i-playing-dirty.html

Jeff

I'm playing dirty...

At Ojo Caliente, New Mexico. There's nothing like a mud bath to ease the 900 mile jaunt to warmer temperatures, longer days and shorter shadows. 

I'm en route to Scottsdale, Arizona which should relieve my onset of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). It's real. I wish it wasn't so. I've been lethargic, lazy and the simple task of placing an IPA to my limps has become a chore. Add the double whammy of being a cold weenie (I've worn pants for three days in a row!) and it explains the primary reasons why Barley the Van and me are now on the run.  

In two days I descended south from 40.5 degrees North to 36.3 degrees North. A gain of over 15 more minutes of daylight. Score!

Here's my post from last year when I was way too far north for early November. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/11/arches-for-the.html

Be thankful you don't have this malady. You are saving heaps of money by not spending it on gasoline or airline tickets. 

Today I'll travel south of the frost zone.. It was 23 degrees in Ojo Caliente last night. Brrr. I'm glad Barley has plenty of blankets.

BTW: playing in the mud is fun.

Cheers!

Jeff

After Working too Many...

Halloweens, I can't say it's a number one Holiday on my personal hit parade. 

For emergency service employees, it was no party. 

We were usually up all night separating warring Witches and Warlocks, dealing with costumed drunks and seeing the results of mixing drinking with driving.

I might have scored a few hours of rest eventually, but woke feeling hungover even though an IPA never touched my lips. 

That all being said, the Sambur's know how to throw a fiesta. Here's some photos of the action.

The last photo is me in my "the guy who lives in a van down by the river" costume. The "Free Candy" sign is my nephews sick Sambur sense of humor at work. 

With the longer shadows and shorter days, Barley will soon be pointing south.

Cheers

Jeff

With a Dwindling IPA Supply...

and time constraints, Jenny and I retreated from Beyond the Zion Curtain to brew and marijuana friendlier Colorado. Despite less than stellar weather, we stayed in motion. We visited lots of stands of Red Rocks. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/10/hiking-between-the.html

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/10/a-heck-of-way-to-run.html

We had the moist fortune of glimpsing a rare tap pole shrimp. They occupy a small niche in the big order of things. Their whole life cycle revolves around the periodic pools of pot holes. 

Birth, childhood, sexual maturity, Happy Hour, parenthood and death all within the wet and dry cycle in a sandstone depression. They made great protein supplements for our dinners too. Use a really tiny lure to hook them if you want to be successful. They are most excellent when served up Cajun style. 

From The Hot Springs Lodge of Glenwood Springs,

(Barley the Van took the night off),

Jeff 

Hiking between the...

wet spots. 

Somehow Jenny and I lucked out for a few hours when there was nothing liquid falling from the sky. We opened this window of opportunity to tiptoe through the puddles to see these ohh-ahh views. 

A high pressure (sort of) system is pushing the moist stuff out. Yay! 

Back to the Needles District in Canyonlands National Park manana. 

Compared to being in Moab, it really will be "west and wewazation at wast!" 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/10/and-wewazation-at-wast.html

From the wilds of Canyonlands RV Park, deep in the heart of downtown Moab,

Cheers!

Jeff

A Heck of a Way to Run

a Desert. 

As Hebrews, Jenny and I are genetically linked to arid regions. Think Moses and the Tribes wandering around the Negev for forty years. Those poor snooks had more luck finding Manna than moisture.

Since we've arrived near Moab and its famous red rock attractions, most of what we've experienced are Noah's Arc downpours and icky clouds. 

In downtown Moab, Barley the Van hydroplaned through three creek crossings. In a normal October they are dry street crossings. In Dead Horse State Park, a mudslide nearly inundated two REI tents. (Not ours!)

WTF! 

I yearn for a return to normalcy. I wanna talk to who's in charge! 

From dank and dreary Dead Horse Point State Park,

It's a great day for hypothermia!

Cheers!

I still have plenty of IPA's and a dry hotel room in Moab is looking better and better.

Jeff 

"West and Wewaxation at Wast!"

Thank you Elmer Fudd.

After my gig at repairing 4X4 doohickeys in the Maze, I needed a break. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/10/edward-abbey-classic.html

So I turned thumped up and filthy Barley the Van east to Grand Junction, home of my long time friends Jack and Judy Miller.

Barley was wounded too. I had to replace a cracked battery that couldn't handle the road abuse. There's nothing like sniffing sulfuric acid fumes for a good night's sleep. No wonder I had a scratchy throat and itchy eyes. 

Manana, we're heading back behind the Zion Curtain. My beer and coffee supply are holding up well. Jenny will be joining me for her first close encounter of Utah. We hope the weather cooperates. One can only spend so much time at the Moab Brewery.

Last photo: "Be vewwy, vewwy quiet. We're hunting wabbits!" 

Elmer Fudd is the Yogi Berra of cartoon characters. 

Cheers from River City,

Jeff

Edward Abbey's Classic...

character from his breakout novel, "The Monkey Wrench Gang" is named George Washington Hayduke. In one chapter, our hero is on the lam and being hotly pursued by the Mormon Posse. Where did Mr Hayduke run to? To the Maze of course.

It's still a place, I discovered where one can disappear. 

This notion makes me grin. 

While there, I covered thirty miles of sketchy trails. The act of missing a set of cairns could have had me wandering off to Neverland. No, not Michael Jackson's estate where creepy things happened, but the one that makes front page news in a bad way for the hiker. (Me). I never saw a soul in those miles. That makes me grin II.

It's a drastic landscape of washes, slot canyons, slick rock, spires and arches. There's little frame of reference to use as a lighthouse. Oh yeah, once in awhile the La Sal Mountains spring up into your personal viewfinder (Moab lies at the foot of them),  but you can't get there from here by walking. There's cliffs, two icy western rivers to swim and all the above obstructions to negotiate. Even Chuck Norris couldn't do it. 

Our expedition was running out of gas so we had to cut our trip short. It was a grueling nine hours of driving time to make it back to a gas station, hotel and a meal in Green River, Utah. Greg's Ford Truck 4X4 thingamajig  broke. Greg was able to repair the what-ya-ma-call-it in the dirt. I was the able bodied assistant. 

"Jeff! It's righty tighty! Lefty loosey" As you can see, my hands got dirty.  

Was it worth it? Hell! Yeah! It's not often I get the chance to be in one of the most remote areas of the National Park Service land holdings. I just hope I don't have to wait another thirty years for the opportunity to return. 

For you twenty or so blog fans, I'd be more than willing to provide guide service and provisioning if you want to beat up your 4X4 vehicle. I'll even bring the IPAs and coffee. 

Thank you so much Greg Lyle and his wonderful family for allowing me to tag along. 

I hope it was as good for the Lyle's as it was for me. I needed a cigarette, it was that good.

Cheers from Green River, Utah.

I still have real beer left.

Jeff 4X4 enthusiast. 

"Hayduke Lives!"

Postscript: Greg's truck limped into Green River with the equivalent of three Bomber beer bottles of diesel. Six/tenths of a galłon. 

37 Miles in 6 hours...

37 miles in 6 hours..

to pound, bully and gyrate two 4X4 vehicles into the guts of the Maze.

When we arrived at sunset at Chimney Rock campground, the Lyle's and I were almost too exhausted for Happy Hour. Somehow I rallied enough to lift a cold IPA to my lips. Not an easy task after wrestling a 1985 Jeep through the tortuous terrain. The Jeep won many rounds.  

For once the National Park Service was spot on. The road into the Maze is long and unforgiving. 

Ahhh...but once the IPA buzz took hold and I looked around, I realized the effort (for now) was worth it. From the rim of the canyons, it's big views and big sky country. I can practically see the Moab Brewery from here. Below the rim, it only took a moment to see how the district got its name. It would be an awful place to get disoriented in. There's no easy way in or out. The trails are like the roads, rough and tumble. 

I ventured down to see the "Harvest Scene" petroglyphs. The Ancient Ones created a panel that looks like a cow. Maybe they were lamenting it's disappearance within this jigsaw puzzle landscape? Who knows? The Ancient Ones aren't spilling the Anasazi beans. 

Live from the Maze!

Can you believe I have Verizon cell phone coverage here?

Cheers from the Land of Standing Rocks.

Jeff