What they didn’t tell me
I asked my nine-year old Nathan about his favorite camping memory. Apparently I was not on this trip to Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and after hearing what happened, that might be a good thing. These are his words:
“This was on my first backpacking trip where there were all these rock places where you climbed up to get to all these Indain adobe houses. We’d just barely got to camp and I climbed up this almost straight up and down wall with only a few dents to climb in. And then I moved to the right where there was, like, this plant growing out and a rock under it where I could put my foot to climb. And then I kept going right until I couldn’t go right anymore so I went back left and I couldn’t find my way down. I had to hang on by leaning back, sitting down and holding on with my arms. I thought I might be there for a while or have to jump down. After about 30 minutes Dad finally found a way for me to get down, but I still had to jump down to him when I was about six feet from the ground. I thought I’d have to jump down from WAAAYYY up there.”
OK. What else do I NOT want to know about?
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