I'm Going to Die

I did another slot canyon this Saturday.

We started out hiking in this lovely wash.  Nice and flat.  Soft sand.  Pretty autumn leaves.  I was thinking, "This is great!"

And then we went up.

Up a mountain.

A steep one.

**I am one of those people who pretends that I'm brave, but really, I'm a big fat chicken.

I was dying. 

Not of pain or exhaustion, but I really thought I was going to die at one point.  I was stretched as far out against the rock face as I could, trying to find a foothold while keeping my hands clenched against the rock.  I could feel myself slipping.  Oh man, it was bad.

And then we had to go down.

Down is even worse. 

You see how far you could fall the ENTIRE time.  Not just if you turn around and look down. 

I don't think I'm going to go canyoneering again in the fall.  Rappelling into a chest high section of water that was freezing cold is not my idea of a swell time.

**we also ran into this lovely group of men from CA there for a bachelor party.  Their favorite topic?  Rape.   And how funny it is.  Oh and let's not forget the f-bomb.   Because conversations are always so intellectually stimulating when that one is thrown in there.   I was definitely getting the "creeper" vibe.  We let them go in front of us. 

So I don't sound like a Debbie Downer, I did enjoy myself for part of the time.  And I do feel a sense of pride at tackling 190 foot rappels and big huge mountains.   But I don't think adrenaline rush sports will ever be my cup of tea.  I'd rather crochet.  (Grandma alert!)

We made it out of the canyon at 6:00, just when it was starting to get dark, (we started at 8:00 am).  Glade had locked his keys in our car, which was at the top of the canyon.  Glade's car was at the bottom and we were supposed to get a ride in it back to our car.  Guess who we flagged down to give us a ride?  Bachelor party guys.  We made Aaron ride with them.