This one is less dear.
We went to St. George, Utah the last weekend of summer (for B. at least, my classes will start after Labor Day) to attend a wedding but also to escape town and get some semblance of a vacation in the few weeks between summer school and fall semester. We were guests to my sister-in-law Jess and her husband. They're both fantastic, and I think the time we got to spend with them really allowed us to get to know each other better. Even better, we got to see our not-so-baby niece, too. She's an adorable handful and we love every chance we get to see her.
Our first day there was a marathon of scrambling across town, getting wedding gifts, B. getting her hair done, seeing this family and that family and at long last visit my grandmother, my uncle and my aunt. We took them out to one of our favorite restaurants down there and I had a great time talking with my grandmother as an adult rather than a little kid interested in candy, cartoons and not much else.
After such a hectic day, we blew off the hike we planned and postponed it til the next day. We had a down day. We cooked our classic staple polynesian chicken and introduced B.'s sister to its wonders. B. finally saw one of my favorite movies, Rise of the Guardians, or as little niece calls it, "Jack Fwost movie." We slumped on the couch and enjoyed the air conditioned indoors and chatted with the sister-in-law I had never really gotten to know too well. We talked about future plans, convinced her to jump on the Breaking Bad bandwagon, and enjoyed the hyperactive antics of her hilarious toddler.
That night we got all dolled up (B. looked fantastic in her 40s style polka dot dress) and went to a wedding. Pardon, a weddin'. The groom, the lucky man who won the heart of B.'s stepsister, wore a cowboy hat at the ceremony. They really embraced the Southwestern cowpoke motif. (as well as the term "getting hitched")
On the final day of our last hurrah before school hit, we set our alarm for 7:00 to make it out to the park early. Well, I did. B. it seemed, had other plans. As did her sister. They slept in while I dozed and fiddled on facebook. We finally got ready to go and left around 11 am, planning to be back around 3pm. 4 at the latest.
Weather and fate, it seemed, had other plans.
Our plan was to got on a hike called the Narrows, a trail following the deep crevice worn into the red stone by the Virgin River. Now, the full hike is a twenty-something mile trek that takes two days. Our abbreviated version would only take a few hours. We'd take a detour off into another branch of the canyon called Orderville Gulch and find a small but decent waterfall. I'd kiss my wife in the waterfall, we'd take some snapshots and turn back, no problem.
But there was a problem.
The last few days had been a bit rainy (darn monsoon season) and a lot of silty runoff had accumulated in the canyon, giving the normally clear river through which we were to traverse a chalky brown consistency. There were flash flood warnings up, but it hadn't rained in quite some time and we honestly weren't going too deep in, so we decided to try anyway (this was after all our last day of summer)
It took some getting used to, testing blindly with our river shoes for slippery footholds in the Willy Wonka river, but we established a pattern and I, the tallest was elected the guinea pig in testing depth. We had dressed to get wet, so I didn't mind an unexpected swim. We took some great photos, had a lot of laughs and stretched and hyperextended a lot of foot tendons in our numerous slips. We would be sore in the morning. At last we came to the long awaited waterfall, much shorter than expected but still taller than me and powerful enough to give it some real force. I inched up to it, dipped my head in, and returned to where B. and her sister had oerched to eat granola bars and trail mix. I sat down briefly and began munching, when suddenly we heard it.
A distant rumble in the sky.
All three of us locked eyes and knew. B. voiced what we were all thinking:
Time to go!
As it started to sprinkle, I became a little concerned about flash floods. At least until we broke out of the Orderville Gulch detour (a very narrow passageway). But even if we were overtaken by a sudden current, we were all adults who could swim and the current would only speed us back to the trailhead. Worst case scenario, we'd swim more than walk and the greatest challenge would be to stay together and stay afloat. Once we reached the main, wider banks of the Virgin River, I wasn't too worried.
But I was the only one. My poor sister-in-law was bawling. She had a baby girl, she couldn't die here! My poor asthmatic B. was having an anxiety attack as we splashed our way back. I told both of them we would be fine, they only partly listened. I held B. close for a second and urged them both to be fast but smart. We couldn't see where we stepped, so it was best to move at a quick pace, but still move carefully. A sprained ankle would only slow us down further. I could carry one of them, both of them would be a challenge. We all held hands in a chain as we crossed from bank to bank, hurrying with the rising water level and quickening current.
Trying to lighten the mood, B. wondered aloud about the scene in Fellowship of the Ring where Arwen summons the watery horse-head waves to drown the Ringwraiths. I love my wife; even in a panic attack she can pull Lord of the Rings references. I laughed. Jess just splashed ahead of us.
The rain picked up briefly, soundly soaking us and giving birth to new waterfalls along the trail. We were rounding a corner as one spouted off of the edge of the canyon and splashed down next to us. That did not help to ease the two hysterical women clinging to my arms in the middle of the river. I couldn't help but laugh. Not at them or their distress, but I just loved every moment of the trip, being caught up in the elements, drenched to the bone, witnessing the birth of waterfalls in one of the most beautiful places on earth. I drank in the moment, even as we hurried back to dry land (well, high ground).
Obviously we made it back just fine. Jess's knees were killing her, I had to carry her a little on the way back to the shuttle. B. was a trooper - thank goodness she packed her inhaler. We were all relatively damp if not dry as we left the shuttle and made our way to the car. In the last fifty-foot stretch before we got to our car, the heavens opened up and dumped on us yet again. We just had to get the car wet apparently.
Showered and changed back home, I rubbed my already tender and sore feet. My metatarsals hand been warped and stretched in all sorts of nasty ways. B. felt a million times better after a hot shower. Jess, once in the cozy comfort of sweats at home, admitted that our situation might not have been as dire as she had originally thought.
I just smiled to myself, taking comfort in the fact that my marriage has taught me enough to know when to offer advice, when to offer facts, when to offer comfort, and when to just shut up and let women have their hormonal freakouts. B., my headstrong feminist told me (and Jess) as we were scrambling our way back to the trailhead that she was glad they had a man around at that moment. I don't quite know what to make of that, but it's good to hear from my woman.
Next time we'll go when the water's clear.
S
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