That Time We Made New Friends In Moab.

The weekend story goes a little something like this:

We left the house with the "wagon train" in tow.

We met the girls' step mom at a weigh station in the freezing cold.  Okay, maybe I'm just not acclimated to the dropping temps yet, but whatever.

We slept in a dirt parking lot on the outskirts of Moab as we pulled in late and it was too dark to find a decent spot to park our rig.

We awoke the next morning, chased down breakfast at one of our favorite Moab breakfast spots, then chased down one of our favorite camping spots, where we found a spot still open, despite the signs claiming the whole place was filled up.  It wasn't.  We were happy... campers.

We hooked trailers, rehooked trailers, loaded up some snacks, and were off to find our first trail, Moab Rim.  Uncle Tim was supposed to join us on this trip but had knee surgery instead so we were on our own.

We drove by homes built into the side of the rocky mountain side (it takes the phrase "living in a cave" to a whole new level), got a little lost, back tracked, and finally found our trail head.

While unloading the razor a group pulled into the parking lot and also began to unload, to which West replies, "Oh good, I'm glad we won't be the only ones out in case something happens."

West had a lot of toys to tinker with and the group (three machines, five people) hit the trail before we did, but we weren't far behind them and easily caught up to them on the first obstacle where they had just got their machines up and the man kindly helped West by pointing out "the line" for him.  (The line being the best spot to get up an obstacle).

A woman asks, "Should we wait for you?" To which West tells her no, it was okay.

They continued on and we finished our climb on the obstacle.

We met the a few minutes later, all pulled over at a log fence that had a pathway through it, and West says, "must be something cool if they're all stopped there.  Let's go see."

So we pull up next to them and they begin to tell us that it's an overlook over the entire town of Moab.  We look at the overlook and spend the next 15 minutes shooting the breeze with them and found that the banter was seamless.  They invited us to join them on the rest of the trail and this time West agreed.

We ended up riding with them for the next three days.

We did break off on our own the first two evenings, and on the first evening we drove out to see the old Dewey Bridge and see if we could find the abandoned cave house that was mentioned in a trail book we have.

And we were successful in finding it:

The view from the "upper floor balcony," a beautiful full moon:

We tackled Krane Creek on Friday:

Where we saw the Montero that got swept away down the canyon during a flash flood this last spring.  Luckily the occupants were able to climb to higher, drier ground, but their Montero is now permanently lodged far down into the depths of the canyon where there is no way to pull it out again. We pictured the damage and as we drove farther up the canyon I couldn't help but picture how the gushing water had swept that vehicle through.

Right before this (below) was the point where The Man almost took us off that cliff side.  There was a climb on the road and he took the outside line.  You know, the side with no mountain to bump against, but rather a drop off to fall down.  He started the climb over the large rock in the way and slid... towards the cliff side.  I was panicking.  Thinking of all the possible things I could do to survive that fall.  He claims he knew all along he had it under control, but as we sat there for those moments while he reassessed the position, my stomach felt hollow.

We made it perfectly fine.

Obviously.

Kane Creek gave us the perfect spot to stop for lunch:

The next morning we had to make a pit stop, after all river water and mud of Kane Creek.

And then we drove part of Poison Spider, taking the Golden Spike turn off to "the crack."

 

The Man tried a particularly steep spot on our way back out of Poison Spider.  We squeeled up.... and then slid back down, landing on the backside of the Razor while it sat straight up on it's back end and took a moment to decide which way it would fall, back on its wheels or over onto it's top.

It choose back onto its wheels, up against the rock.

West tried again.

And again we landed on the backside of the Razor while it sat straight up and decided which way it would fall.

Back onto its wheels against the rock.

At this point I told West I would get out, snap some pictures, and hike up that rock, thank you very much.  I wasn't tempting fate with that one again.

As it would be, he decided on the third try to take a lesser route on that rock face and made it up no problems.

You know when you meet someone and just know you're going to get a long and be good friends, and they know it too?

That was this weekend.

Hank, Tina, Larry, Shelley, and Bryce showed us the ins and outs of all the trails we went on, all being new to to us of course, and familiar to them.  They knew every nook and cranny and every sweet spot (have you seen the arch over there (on a break during Poison Spider)?  Steph, get of the razor, we're going to go over and show you that arch).

They were kind and looked out for each other, and us as well.  We were instantly part of them on those trails.  By Saturday night we were rubbing elbows at dinner, swapping phone numbers and emails, and making promises of further adventures together.

West and I find that when we go on vacations we have incredible luck in one way or another, and we feel that that's holding out to be true where we've meet this great group of people who want to include us in their riding group.

I didn't do a single bit of my math homework.
I didn't get to take a ton of naps (those rides were all day events from breakfast to dinner).

But this was by far the funnest trip to Moab we've had.

I chalk it up to the company we were lucky to find.