Harrison Ford’s Got Nuthin On Me!

I spent the last 48 hours in one death-defying adventure after the other. My comfort zone is so stretched it may never return to normal. All I need now is my own bull whip and I can star right next to Indiana Jones in his next adventure. It all started with the back pack that was on sale at REI. Dan thought the color would look good on me, the size seemed right, so he bought it for me. "Ummmm, thanks honey. What is it?" "It's a back pack." "I know, but what am I supposed to do with it?" I should know after hanging out with a lawyer for several years to never ask a question I don't know the answer to. "You put stuff in it and then you strap it on your back and go off into the wilderness where you survive for days with whatever it is you thought to put in there." Hmmm, didn't look big enough to fit a microwave, ice maker, flush toilet and shower. But, whatever. So that's how I ended up driving 23 miles on the Road of Wreckage to hike on the Trail of Death, which took us to the Canyon of Doom and ultimately on to the River of No Return. I forgot to bring in my camera to download the photos so details to follow. Suffice it to say that "two or three miles" on the Trail of Death turned into roughly eight, emphasis on the rough. It was starting to turn dark and the sky threatened rain. I only had one Clif Bar in my backpack and I searched for it as vultures circled overhead. To be continued . . .