Mesa County

Fruita, just outside Grand Junction, and like Grand Junction is known for its temperate and arid climate. We don’t know it that way. While desperately needed rain fell, I hunkered down in the trailer with my broken ankle elevated and iced while watching old reruns on antenna. There were movies too, generously hacked to PC pieces for the general viewing audience. Ken definitely tried to get out and do some things, which I am proud to recreate here for your entertainment.

• Rattlesnake Arches, first attempt.

“Lo, the clouds have lifted and the enduring rain have marooned my heart. I hear the gentle calling of near adventures, beckoning me with promise of beauteous splendors henceforth unseen. Upon first approach with my mighty motorized steed, had been advised to return to my abode from impassable road slurry. Undeterred, my steed found a second passage to the trail where I began my ascent. Ancient walls reaching for the sky adorned my vista, my path obscured by so much meandering waters that in nothing flat my bearings were lost. In moderate concern for finding my way I turned, and as approaching the correct course, lost my faithful footing and pass into a bath of mud. Egads! Shaken and cold I returned to my carriage and posthaste to the lady Lexi fair.”

We left Fruita to hang out with Andy, Alice, Julia, John and Julie outside Moab at Horsethief Campground. The first night was not surprisingly raining. But, it did clear up, it even got warm! While John and Julie took off early for work (boo, you damn working people always ruining adventure time!) Ken and the crew got to go mountain biking for two days. The first day was at the Brand Trails. Honesty, for two whole days I thought everyone was talking about the Bran Trails, and I couldn’t figure out how mountain biking trails would motivate the bowels so much to be named after bran. The second day was a huge network of trails around Horsethief. Mad love to the Hayes’ for working Ken over on those trails.  I think he might have the mountain biking bug now.  Below is Ken’s account by me.

“BICICLE.

BICICLE.

I WANT TO RIDE MY BICICLE,

I WANT TO RIDE MY BIiiiiiiKE!”

Then a week in Palisade. Beautiful Palisade, with your peach trees changing colors, your spectacular sunsets off the Palisade Rim, your sweet little fruit farms, and quaint cafes serving delicious farm to table foodie foods.  We got to spend time with John and Julie in GJ, grabbing cocktails and grub, and great laughs!  (BTW, thank you guys! We feel like we’ve known you our whole lives!). Ken did some hiking adventures and some fishing here and there. His account, in my recollection went something like this…

• Palisade Rim Trail

“So, the guy at the place said this was easy.  All the books said it’s only like 3 miles. I biked down the road and locked ‘er up, hit the trail and went up, up, up. Awesome views of Palisade and the RV park where my most divine Lexi rest, and 9 miles later, I returned to the trailer.”

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• Rattlesnake Arches, second attempt.

“I shall not be deterred by this problematic trail. Yay, I will triumph! In absence of torrential rains the trail has made itself slightly more distinguished. With elevation gaining below my winged feet I fly past the catastrophe pond of days past. Joyous are the views, light are my legs, warm are my shoulders basking in the sun. Hold, drat! The trail is lost, gods have pity on me, give me the sight to see! Upon a quick return the trail is recovered, alas, only for a moment and the trail vanishes. Oh, trail Atlantis, return to me! In circles I am found and lost, only to return again. I am now Hermes lost, defeated, spent. I sulked back to my Queen Lexi, who with grace and goodness restored my resolve. I shall not go defeated thrice.  This unnatural challenge remains for another day.”

• Fishing on Grand Mesa.

“Shit! It’s cold. Snow! What the shit?!?!  Screw this crap, I’m going for a long ass drive instead. Now, I need beer. MMMMMM, beer…”

I should finish by adding, Ken literally said none of these things, and I might have messed up the when’s and where’s. But, this is what happens when you refuse to write your own memories! Poor guy! The pictures are all his though, so mad credit for that!