Pretty fluffin' amazing, huh? This is where Doooders and I went on vacation in southern Utah. And it wouldn't be summer without some good old-fashioned "Camp Tales" right?
Well, the hike wasn't what I would call "easy" nor did it offer the worthless ratings-scale that the park service usually offers from "Vigorous" to "Easy."
It did say, "Walking can be strenuous, especially in hot weather." Moronically, I somehow missed this tiny warning in .008 sized font on my pamphlet.
"Doooooder," I stammer breathlessly almost 20 minutes into the hike as I'm covered in perspiration and mosquito-bites, "Did you pack the booze?" I whine. We brought a tiny bottle of Malibu coconut flavored rum to commemorate the end of the hike, and I needed a nip, NOW. As in right the fuck NOW. My mouth watered just thinking of it.
"Why no, I thought you did," she replied non-chalantly. I stifled a whimper and prayed she was kidding. She wasn't.
"N-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!! We MUST have booze after this hike. Let's run back to the car and get it," I pleaded.
"No, we must press forward," says Dooders as she marches on, reminding me very much of the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket. Soon, I alarmingly realize that I'm very much short on my water supply. It's about then that I start feeling stabbing pains in my calves and turn my mind to more pleasant topics such as dehydration and heat-stroke. Walking through the southern Utah desert is very much like parading through two feet of powdered sugar. You can never seem to make much progress. Your feet sink through the 145 degree sand, trying to find purchase while you're stomping slowly through it, marching quite similar to how a zombie wearing snowshoes might march.
"I . . .can . . . no . . . longer go on. You might have to go on without me," I announce after about 2 hours in. I fall over a rock and gasp for air.
"Oh, you'll be fine. Think how great it'll feel to be at the falls in the cool, icy water," Doooder replies cheerfully.
"I . . . NEED. . . beer," I gasp. Doooders only shakes her head and we plod on.
I suddenly feel for what the Mormons must have endured on their desperate journey through the desert. My knees hurt; my skin feels like it's peeling off my body I am so hot. I'm starving, and my back hurts. Even my eyelashes hurt. A bevvy of mosquitoes attack me, and one even bites me inside my ear which was simply the last straw.
"Acckkkkkkkk! Jezus!" I scream and sort of throw a full blown temper-tantrum, jumping up and down, purple-faced, hair standing on end, slapping mosquitoes and giving an amazing show to the group of Asian hikers who walk past me, carefully avoiding any eye-contact. "When the FUCK does this hike end?" I scream.
By now, even Doooders begins to wonder if there's really a waterfall at the end.
"It's just around this corner," she says dubiously, but of course it's not.
Finally, after about a dozen, "It's just right around this corner's" we hit the falls about an hour later.
More later. I promise.